_Chapter I_
"THE CHINESE IMAGE"
Winter hung on grimly in the Middle West that year. Late March found the
streets piled high with snow and on that particular morning there was a
threat of additional snow in the air as Janet Hardy, a blond curl
sticking belligerently out from under her scarlet beret, hurried toward
school.
It was an important day for members of the senior class of the Clarion
High School, for Miss Williams, the dramatics instructor, was going to
hand out parts to read for the class play. For that reason, Janet walked
more briskly than usual and she failed to hear footsteps behind her until
another girl, running lightly, called.
"Slow up a minute, Janet. I'm nearly breathless. I've been chasing you
for more than a block."
Janet turned to greet Helen Thorne, who lived half a block beyond her own
home and on the same broad, comfortable thoroughfare.
The girls fell into step, Janet slowing her pace until Helen could
recover her breath.
"What chance do you think we'll have of getting parts in the play?" asked
Helen, her face reflecting her hopefulness.
"Just as good as any of the rest," replied Janet. "I don't think there
are any Ethel Barrymores in school and I wouldn't worry if there were. I
won't be heart-broken if I don't get a part."
"That's easy to say, but I'm afraid I'll be pretty much disappointed if I
don't get one. You have the _Weekly Clarion_ to keep you busy."
"It does that all right," conceded Janet, who was editor of the page of
high school news which appeared once a week in the local daily paper, the
_Times_, under the title of "The Weekly Clarion."
The girls turned into the street which led up the hill to the high
school, a sprawling brick structure which covered nearly a block. The
original building had been started in 1898 and as the city had grown
additions had been made, seemingly at random, until hardly any one knew
how many rooms there were and it was not unusual for a new student to get
lost.
Janet was slightly taller than Helen. Her hair was a golden blond with
just enough of a natural curl to make her the envy of most of the girls
in school. Her blue eyes had a friendly, cheery look and her mouth had an
upward twist that made it easy for her to smile.
Helen was a complement to Janet, with dark brown hair, brown eyes and a
dusky skin. Because of her brunette coloring, she inclined to gayer
colors than her blond companion.
It was half an hour before school when they reached the building, but a
goodly number of seniors were already on hand and competition for rôles
in the play would be intense. With 132 in the senior class, not many more
than a score could hope to win parts.
"There's so many it's going to be a discouraging business," said Helen as
they went upstairs to the chemistry auditorium where the class was to
meet.
"If a lot of the others think that, it will be easy for us," smiled
Janet. "Come on, tell yourself you're going to win a part and you will."
"I want to for Dad's sake. He wrote that he would be home for my
graduation and would attend all of the senior activities. So I've just
got to make the play cast."
"Keep up that kind of a spirit and you're as good as in," encouraged
Janet, who secretly confessed that it was going to be quite a job to win
a place in the play.
The chemistry auditorium was well filled when they arrived. Almost every
senior girl was there and at least half of the boys.
Janet looked around the large room, gauging the mettle of the girls they
would have to compete against. Well up toward the rostrum was Margie
Blake, petite and blond and exceedingly vivacious. Margie was popular,
confessed Janet, and probably stood a good chance of winning a part in
the play for she had innate dramatic ability, while Janet, who had taken
a leading rôle in the junior play, had been compelled to study each bit
of action carefully.
Near Margie was Cora Dean, a pronounced brunette, who had already
announced that she intended to have a leading rôle, and Cora had a
reputation of getting whatever she went after, whether it was a place on
the honor roll or a part in one of the drama club's one act plays.
"I'm afraid Cora will be after the part I try out for," whispered Helen.
"She's good, too."
"She's not a bit better than you are, and not half as pretty," retorted
Janet.
"But you don't always win play parts on your looks," said Helen.
Just then Miss Williams, the dramatics instructor, hurried in. In one
hand she carried a large sheaf of mimeographed sheets while in the other
was the complete book for the play. Several plays had been tentatively
considered, but final approval had been up to Miss Williams and she was
to announce the title that morning as well as give out reading parts.
The room quieted down as a few stragglers, coming in at the last minute,
found seats at the rear.
Miss Williams sorted the mimeographed sheets into piles and at exactly
8:45 o'clock she rapped briskly on the desk with a ruler. The dramatics
teacher was pleasant and almost universally liked. She smiled as she
looked over the seniors who had gathered.
"It looks like we're going to have real competition for the play parts
this year," she said. "I suppose, though, that first you'd like to know
the name of the play."
She paused a moment, then went on.
"I've read all the plays the committee recommended carefully and my final
choice is 'The Chinese Image.'"
There was a ripple of applause, for a number of seniors, including Janet
and Helen, had read portions of "The Chinese Image."
Helen leaned toward her companion.
"That's the play I've been hoping would be selected. There's a part I
think I can win."
"The leading rôle?" asked Janet.
"Well, hardly, but it isn't a bad part."
Miss Williams held up her hand and the buzz of conversation which had
started after her announcement ceased.
"I have had parts for every character mimeographed and each sheet gives
sufficient reading material for tryouts. There are 23 rôles in 'The
Chinese Image.' I'm familiar with the ability of almost all of you and if
you'll come up as I call your names, I'll give you tryout sheets. The
first sheet contains a brief synopsis of the play with the complete cast
of characters and the second sheet has the part I want you to try for.
You will also find the hours on the second sheet when I want you to go
down to the gym for the tryouts."
Janet had to confess that she was more than a little nervous as she
waited for Miss Williams to call her name. Senior after senior was called
up to the desk and handed his sheets. To some of them Miss Williams added
another word or two, but she talked too low to be heard by the main body
of pupils.
As the tryout sheets were handed out, the seniors left the room for it
was nearly assembly time.
Helen looked anxiously at Janet.
"I wonder if we're going to be called? There are less than a dozen left."
"We'll know in a couple of minutes," replied Janet. "There goes Margie
Blake. Wonder what part she'll get a chance at?"
"One of the leads, you can be sure of that. And there's Cora Dean. I
suppose Cora will get the part I try for. That happened in several of the
one acts last year."
"This isn't last year and Cora's a bit too temperamental. Well, we are
going to be the last."
All of the others had been called before Miss Williams spoke to Janet and
Helen, and with a feeling of misgiving they advanced toward her desk.
_Chapter II_
LEADING RÔLES
Miss Williams smiled pleasantly as she looked up from the now slender
pile of sheets with the tryout parts.
"Afraid I was going to forget you?" she asked.
"We were commencing to worry," admitted Janet, "for after all there's
only one senior play."
"Right. And I'm determined that 'The Chinese Image' be the best ever
produced by Clarion High."
The electric gong that heralded the opening of school banged its lusty
tone through the hall.
"Never mind about opening assembly," said Miss Williams. "I'll explain to
the principal that I detained you."
The dramatics instructor looked quizzically at Janet and Helen.
"You make a good team, don't you?"
"Well, we don't exactly fight," smiled Helen, "but there are times when
we don't agree."
"Of course. That's only human. What I mean is that when you get together
with a goal in mind, you work hard to attain that goal. When Janet went
out for editor of the _Weekly Clarion_ last fall, you were working hard
for her to win."
"I did my best," admitted Helen.
"And it had a lot to do with my winning out over Margie Blake," said
Janet whole-heartedly.
"Which is just the kind of spirit I'm looking for to put across the
senior play. I'll have to make a little confession or you'll wonder why
I'm so intensely interested in the success of this special play. A
dramatic producing company has made me a tentative offer, but their final
decision will be made after one of their representatives has seen the
senior play."
"But that would mean leaving Clarion," protested Helen.
"I'm afraid it would, and while I wouldn't like that, the opportunity
offered by this company, if it finally develops, would be such that I
just couldn't afford to reject it."
"I suppose there isn't a whole lot of money in teaching dramatics in a
high school," said Janet.
"Not enough so I want to make it a life career," replied Miss Williams.
"But this isn't getting along with my plan. Helen, I'm assigning you for
a tryout for the leading rôle. Here's your part. Read it over carefully
and be ready tomorrow afternoon at 4:15 o'clock."
Miss Williams handed the mimeographed sheets to the astounded Helen.
"They won't bite," she smiled.
"But the lead? I never dreamed you would want me to try out for that."
"Why not? It calls for a brunette with ability and brains and I think you
answer that description."
Miss Williams turned to Janet.
"Here's your rôle, Janet. It's the second lead. You play a jittery little
blond who hasn't a brain in her head and probably never will have."
"Does that rôle fit me?" asked Janet, her eyes twinkling.
"Well, hardly, but I think you'll have a lot of fun working on such a
part. Margie Blake is going to try for it, also."
"Who will be trying for the part you've assigned me?" asked Helen.
"Cora Dean. I expect that with such competition both of you will be
forced to do your best to win the part. Maybe it's a little mean of me to
match you against each other this way, but I've got to have a superlative
cast for the play."
"You'll get it," promised Janet, "for Helen and I are going to do our
best to win these rôles. Why Helen's father is planning on coming back
for graduation week and Helen's got to make the play."
"Is he really coming?" asked Miss Williams, almost incredulously, for the
name of Henry Thorne was a magic word in Clarion.
"He's promised, and both mother and I are counting on it. We haven't seen
him since last fall."
"Then I know one dramatics teacher who is going to be doubly nervous the
night of the play. Just think of it--Henry Thorne, star director of the
great Ace Motion Picture Company, watching a high school play. I'm afraid
the cast may go all to pieces, they'll be so nervous."
"But Dad's so entirely human," said Helen. "That's just the trouble.
Because he's made a success in films, people think he must be some kind
of a queer individual who goes around with his head in the air thinking
he is better than anyone else. He's just like Janet's father and when he
gets home he likes nothing better than getting his old fishpole out,
digging a can of worms, and going out along the creek to fish and doze."
"I suppose you're right, but his pictures have been so outstanding it
seems that directing them must be some sort of a genius. I've never quite
understood why you and your mother stayed on here, though."
Miss Williams had often wanted to ask that question just to satisfy her
own curiosity, but the opportunity had never opened before.
"Dad's working under pressure on the coast, long hours and a terrific
strain, and he says some of the things that are said about Hollywood are
true. Most of the people are fine and hard working, but a small, wild
crowd gives the rest a bad name and he doesn't want to take any chance on
my getting mixed up with that bunch."
"But you wouldn't," said Miss Williams.
"I don't think so, but Dad thinks it best for us to stay here in Clarion
and mother and I are happy here with all of our friends. Of course we
don't see a whole lot of Dad, but when he does get home or we go out
there, we have an awfully good time."
Miss Williams glanced at her watch.
"It's 9:10. You'd better go down to assembly. I'll explain why you were
late. Don't forget, tryouts for both of you tomorrow afternoon and I'm
counting on you to do your best."
"We'll try," promised Janet, as they picked up the sheets with the tryout
parts and left the chemistry auditorium.
In the hall Helen, her dark eyes aglow with excitement, turned to Janet.
"Just think; I've got a chance at the leading rôle. Of course Cora will
probably get it, but at least Miss Williams is considering me."
"Now let's stop right here," said Janet firmly, "and get one thing
straight. You have a chance at the leading rôle." Helen nodded.
"Cora has a chance at the lead." Again Helen nodded.
"But," went on Janet, "you are going to win the lead."
"Oh, do you really think so?" There was a tinge of desperation in Helen's
voice.
"I know you are." Janet spoke with a definiteness that she didn't quite
feel, for Cora was a splendid little actress. But Helen needed some real
encouragement and Janet knew that if Helen felt confident from the start
half of the battle was won.
The morning passed in a whirl of routine classes, but Janet found time to
study her tryout sheets for several minutes.
"The Chinese Image" was ideally suited for a senior play, with an
excellent mystery story to carry the action. A whole lot of dramatic
ability was unnecessary for the rapid tempo of the story would carry
along the interest of the audience.
The synopsis Miss Williams had prepared was brief and Janet read it
twice.
"The Chinese Image" centered about a strange little figure which had been
brought back from China in 1851 by Ebenezer Naughton, then captain of one
of the clipper ships which had sailed out of Salem for far-away ports in
the Orient. The strange, squat little figure had remained in the Naughton
family ever since for Captain Ebenezer, in his will, had stipulated that
it must never be given away or sold.
"When grave troubles befall my family, turn to 'The Chinese Image,'" he
had written, "and therein you will find an answer."
But the Naughtons had prospered and the will had been almost forgotten
until the family came upon hard times and its fortune dwindled. Two
grandsons of Captain Ebenezer, now heads of their own families, quarreled
bitterly and in the ensuing family feud the image became involved. It
finally fell to the lot of Abbie Naughton, the rôle played by Janet, to
solve the mystery of the image, which she did in as thorough a manner as
might have been expected of the light-headed Abbie.
Janet chuckled over the lines she was to read in the tryout. The part of
Abbie should be great fun, for Abbie did about every nonsensical thing
possible and the giddier the part could be made, the better, decided
Janet.
Helen's rôle was more serious, for she was supposed to be in love with
one of the boys of the other branch of the family and many were the
trials and tribulations of their love affair. It was a delicate rôle,
with much sweetness and tenderness, and it should prove ideal for Helen.
Janet couldn't conceive of Cora Dean, who had a certain harshness about
her, getting the part. But then, Cora was capable and she might be able
to play the rôle to perfection.
Just before noon the sky, grey since morning, turned a more desolate
shade and the clouds disgorged their burden of snow. It was dry and fine
and tons of it seemed to be coming down.
Janet met Helen in the hall.
"What about lunch?"
"I'm going to stay at school and have mine in the cafeteria," replied
Helen. "How about you?"
"I don't relish the long walk home, but I didn't bring any money with
me."