Clarissa Valentine
“Isn’t that the girl who was sitting alone at the next table?” asked
Judy. “I noticed her watching you and smiling when you were singing that
song, Irene. She seemed to be enjoying it.”
“I knew I shouldn’t—”
Irene stopped. The girl at the cashier’s desk was really in trouble. Her
voice had risen to a wail.
“You’re a thief!” she cried out melodramatically. “Daddy warned me
against people like you.”
“Your daddy should have warned you to be more careful of your money,”
the cashier retorted sarcastically. “If you’ve lost twenty dollars—”
“I didn’t lose it,” she insisted. “You took it from me!”
“Poor girl! She really thinks she’s been cheated,” Irene whispered.
“She’s beautiful,” said Flo, “especially when she’s angry. That girl
ought to be in advertising. She’s just the unspoiled type of beauty
we’re looking for. Of course, she ought to do something about her hair.”
“Shampoo it with golden hair wash, I suppose? Please, Flo, don’t try to
make her over,” Irene pleaded. “She’s in enough trouble as it is.”
“It looks as if the cashier is going to win the argument,” observed
Judy. “I feel sorry for the girl if he really is trying to cheat her.”
“More likely she’s trying to cheat him. She could be putting on an act,”
declared Pauline. “There, I told you so. Now she’s turned on the tears.”
In a moment the weeping country girl was surrounded by a little knot of
concerned people who had left their tables to try and settle the matter.
As they pressed toward him the cashier flung open the cash drawer.
“You see!” he pointed out. “There’s no twenty! I haven’t changed a
twenty-dollar bill all day. She’s made a mistake—”
“I did not,” the girl retorted tearfully. “I know what I gave you. It
was a twenty. Now I don’t have money enough for my fare home.”
“Where do you live?” he asked as if concerned.
“If I tell you, will you give me my nineteen dollars?”
“No!” he snapped. “You can’t get away with a trick like that.”
“Then I’ll call the police,” she threatened. “I won’t let you cheat me
out of all the money I have.”
“Do you think the police will believe you?” the man inquired in a lower
tone.
“I don’t know!” cried the girl. “I don’t know what happened to my twenty
dollars if I didn’t give it to you.”
“There!” he exclaimed triumphantly. “You’ve admitted you lost it before
you came into this restaurant.”
“I did nothing of the kind. Doesn’t anybody in New York care about the
truth?” The girl seemed to be asking this question of the other people
in the restaurant. “Please, mister,” she began to plead, “give me back
my change so I can go home.”
“I’m sorry.” The cashier seemed almost sympathetic. Yet he remained firm
in his refusal to give the girl any money, insisting that she must have
lost the bill she thought she gave him.
“Come, sit with us and tell us all about it.” Judy offered on impulse.
“We care about the truth.”
“Then you’ll look in that man’s pockets,” declared the nearly hysterical
girl. “He took it—”
“We would report him to the manager,” Florence Garner suggested.
“And make him lose his job? Mistakes happen,” declared Pauline Faulkner.
“We have no way of knowing which of you is in the right.”
“That’s true.” The girl controlled her sobs and said, “It’s kind of you
to take an interest in me. I needed that twenty—”
“If we each chip in five dollars, you’ll still have money enough to take
you home. You may consider it a loan,” Irene said.
“Thanks.” The girl smiled for the first time. “You’re a genuine Golden
Girl. I’ve seen you on television. I recognized your voice, too, when
you sang that funny song. You’re Irene Meredith!”
“Indeed I am.” Irene introduced the other girls and offered the newcomer
the vacant chair at the table.
“Now our phantom friend is real,” declared Judy.
The girl looked startled. “I hope I’m real. Once,” she confessed, “I
looked in the mirror, and there was no reflection. It scared me half out
of my wits. Why do you call me a phantom friend?”
“We were pretending we had a fifth girl at the table. It was just a
joke. You do have a name, don’t you?” Judy asked.
“It’s Clarissa,” the girl replied. “Clarissa Valentine.”
“That sounds like a stage name,” declared Pauline. “You aren’t an
actress, are you?”
“No, but I’d like to be. That’s why I came to New York,” Clarissa
admitted. “At home we had a little theater group for a while. But
they’re old-fashioned down there. Some of the people in my father’s
parish didn’t think it proper for a minister’s daughter to act on the
stage. We had to give up the little theater, so I coaxed Daddy to let me
come here. I thought I could get a little part on TV, but I was wrong. I
couldn’t get any kind of a job. I was all out of money when Daddy sent
me that twenty dollars for Christmas. He said he hoped I’d spend it for
a ticket back home to West Virginia. I was going to take the train
tonight.”
“You can still take it if you let us help you. Meantime,” Florence
Garner suggested, “why don’t you join us for a tour of Radio City, my
treat?”
“Do you mean it?” asked Clarissa, obviously surprised. “Touring Radio
City was one of the things I especially wanted to do. Will we see
ourselves on television?”
“We certainly will.”
“Are you joking?” asked Judy. “How could we—”
“You’ll see,” Irene promised. “There’s a live show you may catch if you
hurry. But perhaps you’d rather wait and see mine tonight. Francine Dow
is playing the Sleeping Beauty. You’ll love her in it. I’m lucky to have
her as a guest on my show. She can really act.”
“So can you, Irene.”
The Golden Girl of TV and radio tossed Judy’s compliment aside. “I can
sing and tell stories. That’s about all. A part like this takes real
talent. When you see the show you’ll understand. Notice the equipment
and don’t be afraid to ask questions of the guide while you’re taking
the tour,” Irene continued. “You’ll enjoy my show more if you know the
types of cameras being used and understand what the men on the floor are
doing.”
“Who are the men on the floor?” asked Clarissa.
“I haven’t time to tell you now. The guide will explain it. I must dash,
or I’ll be late for rehearsal. Our studio is way uptown. Here’s the
address.” Irene handed Judy a card on which she had written, “Admit
four.” “That includes Clarissa if she wants to come. You know I’m not on
one of the big networks.”
“You could be,” Florence began.
“Please,” Irene stopped her. “I won’t be on anything if I’m late for
rehearsal. Turn in your contributions, girls, and let’s go.”
Clarissa seemed almost too eager to accept the four bills the girls
offered her. They paid the cashier, counting their change carefully, and
left the restaurant together.
Outside, the wind had increased, sending swirls and flurries of snow
ahead of them as they crossed the street. They could scarcely see each
other through the whiteness in the air.
“I’ll leave you here. Cheer up, Flo. I’ll let you know my decision in a
day or two,” Irene promised as she hurried off.
“Talk her into it, Judy,” urged Pauline.
The four girls had entered the RCA Building, glad of the warmth they
found inside.
“Talk her into _what_?” asked Judy. “I’m afraid I don’t know the
language. Do you have a new sponsor for Irene?”
“Yes, the golden hair wash people.”
“Oh,” Judy said and was suddenly silent.
“Would she be on one of the big networks?” asked Clarissa.
“Yes, the biggest. You’d see her on your TV at home, Judy. Isn’t that
worth thinking about? You can talk her into it if anyone can,” Flo
urged.
“I’ll discuss it with her. How do the rest of you feel about it?” asked
Judy.
“I think she ought to accept the offer,” Pauline volunteered. “There’s
nothing wrong with commercials if they’re in good taste. Lots of stars
do them.”
“It’s a selling job like any other. The sponsor pays for the program,”
put in Flo. “I wish Irene could see it that way. She could sell golden
hair wash.”
“She doesn’t believe in it,” Judy objected. “If she used the stuff
herself it would be different.”
“I’d use it. I’d do anything,” declared Clarissa. “I’d dye my hair green
to get on TV.”
“That’s hardly ever necessary,” laughed Flo.
“Do we really see ourselves on television when we take this tour?”
Pauline questioned.
“I think so.”
Judy asked at the information desk to make sure and came back all
excited. “It’s true!” she exclaimed. “The guide just told me.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” asked Clarissa.
Taking Judy’s arm, she pulled her on down the concourse until they came
to a high desk where tickets were being sold. Judy found herself paying
for them although Florence Garner had been the one to suggest the tour.
Clarissa clutched her ticket eagerly and whispered, as if to herself, “I
hope I _show_. It would be terrible if I just faded away.”