"Why?"
"Won't it depend on how our work shows up whether we get any more rôles?"
"Yes, I suppose so," said her father, "but I could push you into some
minor parts in other films."
"Now you're wrong, Dad. We don't want that any more than you would want
to do it."
"I guess you're right, dear. I did give you a boost with Billy and if you
didn't make good on 'Broad Valley' there's little more that I can do."
They were silent for a time. Helen's mother, who had been to a
neighborhood picture house, came home and they went into the dining room
where a cold lunch was ready for them.
"I hear you had some unusual experiences," said Helen's father.
"Oh, we had a few falls," admitted Janet. There was no use in voicing
their suspicions about Bertie Jackson.
The next four days were spent in sight-seeing around Los Angeles, in a
trip to Catalina Island and several swimming expeditions at Malibu. Then
came a call from Billy Fenstow.
"We're screening 'Broad Valley' at the studio tonight," he informed them.
"Better come on out. It's at eight."
This was the news they had been waiting for, but now that the actual
screening was to take place, both girls felt nervous and upset. Helen's
father and mother insisted on coming with them, "to enjoy the triumph or
share the sorrows." Henry Thorne smiled and Janet later wondered whether
he had advance information on the outcome of the picture.
The small auditorium in which the picture was screened was well filled
that night with most of the members of the cast on hand, including Curt
Newsom and Bertie Jackson.
The lights were out and the picture started. Janet read the title:
"'Broad Valley' with Curt Newsom and Bertie Jackson, directed by William
Fenstow; produced by the Ace Motion Picture Corporation." Then came the
cast of characters and well toward the bottom of the list she found her
name. Her heart leaped and she held Helen's arm close. What a thrill it
was to actually read her own name in the cast of characters of a film.
Then the action started, the story of Curt Newsom's fight to hold title
to his ranch.
Almost before Janet and Helen knew it they were in the picture, the
midwestern cousins arriving for a visit and in spite of herself Janet
chuckled as she stumbled over the rug. It DID look wholly accidental.
Then for a time they were out of the action, coming back again in the
riding sequence in which Janet was dumped into the watering trough. This
entire bit of action had been kept in the film and she heard several
hearty chuckles as she went headlong into the trough.
After that came the wild ride in which Janet was pitched from her horse
and the final victory of Curt over his enemies. "Broad Valley" came to a
close with Curt winning the affections of Bertie Jackson and Janet felt
her distaste for the actress growing as she watched the final fadeout.
The lights in the projection room flashed up and Henry Thorne turned to
the girls.
"Nice work," he said.
"Do you really mean it, Dad?" asked Helen.
"Of course I do, honey. I think both of you handled your parts very well
and Janet added a couple of top notch comedy incidents."
"They weren't intentional," Janet assured him.
"Then that explains why they look so natural. Billy will be a sap if he
cuts them out in the final version."
"And I'm not a sap," said Billy Fenstow, who had quietly joined them.
"How about my next western? Think you could stand a few more weeks in my
company?"
"Are you serious?" demanded Janet.
"Enough so that I'm promising you parts right now. In fact, we'll pay you
$75 a week instead of the $50 a week you got for this first picture. How
does that sound?"
"Not enough," put in Henry Thorne, "especially if the girls can give you
some more comedy as good as the stuff they put into this one."
"Now wait a minute," protested the little director. "I don't work on
budgets that run up to half a million. I've got to watch my pay-roll."
"I was only kidding, Billy. But honestly, the girls ought to be worth a
hundred a week. You'll only use them a couple of weeks and that's pretty
cheap."
"I won't make any promises about a hundred a week," said Billy, "but you
can count on another job if you want to join the company for my next
western."
"Then we're in right now," decided Helen, and Janet nodded her approval.
_Chapter XXIV_
"KINGS OF THE AIR"
The next morning Janet found an interesting paragraph in one of the
morning papers, which had been written by a reporter who had attended the
screening of "Broad Valley."
"One of the pleasant surprises about this latest Billy Fenstow western
was the work of Helen Thorne and Janet Hardy, two newcomers. Miss Thorne
is the daughter of the famous director and Miss Hardy is a friend of hers
from the middle west. Although playing minor rôles, both girls handled
their parts well with Miss Hardy providing several of the best comedy
touches seen in a western by this reviewer in some months. It is reported
that both will be in the next western which the prolific Fenstow will
produce."
Janet read the brief comment three times, then clipped it out of the
paper, wrote a brief note home, and sent the clipping to her folks.
Later in the day they received their final vouchers from the studio for
work on "Broad Valley." Altogether the two weeks work on the picture had
netted them $100 apiece, more money than either of them had ever earned
in a similar length of time.
"No wonder girls come to Hollywood," said Helen as she looked at the
check.
"Yes, but remember that we're lucky. We didn't have to break down any
barriers; we didn't have to make introductions. The way was all smoothed
out for us. Look at those poor kids over at the casting office."
Helen turned in the direction Janet pointed. Half a hundred young men and
women were waiting patiently in a line before the window of the casting
office. Most of them were rejected; only one or two were allowed inside.
"That's what happens to the average seeker of fame in the films," said
Janet. "So many, with some beauty and high hopes, come out here expecting
to make a success, and then almost starve. Of course they get a bit once
in a while, but it's hardly enough to buy their food much less their
clothes and all of the other necessary things."
"You're right, of course," admitted Helen. "If it hadn't been for Dad
we'd never have had a look-in."
They were having lunch that noon at the studio restaurant with Helen's
father. They were waiting when he arrived. Accompanying him was a
stranger.
"Girls, I want you to meet Mr. Rexler, general manager of the company."
The general manager, tall, thin and exceedingly nervous, greeted them
cordially, then seemed to forget that they even existed for he talked
business from the moment they reached their table until lunch was over.
But in spite of that Janet and Helen enjoyed the hour. Some of the most
famous stars on the Ace lot were lunching there that noon and Janet and
Helen enjoyed watching them come in.
The general manager, a man of quick thought and action, suddenly turned
toward them.
"I saw 'Broad Valley' the other night. Congratulations on a nice bit of
work."
The hour passed quickly, with Helen's father and the general manager
continuing their conference in the executive's private office in the
administration building.
"Dad and Rexler are having trouble over the story for the new air
picture," said Helen. "I heard him talking with mother just last night.
They can't agree on the final version. Dad was going over it last night."
"I'd like to read it," said Janet.
"I'll get it for you if he brings it home tonight."
That night Janet had her chance to scan the script of Henry Thorne's next
picture. The tentative title was "Kings of the Air." The action was
fast and stirring, the panorama of the story covering the entire
transcontinental route of one air mail system and Janet could understand
that there was material here for a really great picture. But there was
something lacking--a crashing climax that would make the spectators grip
their seats.
Henry Thorne, watching Janet as she laid the script aside, spoke quietly.
"If you can suggest a suitable climax you can just about name your own
ticket on our lot," he said.
"How about a race for a contract?" suggested Helen.
"Too old; it's worn out."
"Then why not have the plane going through with valuable papers which are
needed for say," Janet paused, "a naval conference at Washington, on the
outcome of which may hinge the fate of the world."
Henry Thorne started to reject the idea, but halted. "Where did you get
that idea?"
"Something I read in a paper several months ago suggested it," admitted
Janet. "Navy planes were racing across country with a naval envoy and
they got held up somewhere in Wyoming on account of bad weather. You
could have your mail plane take over there after the navy ship was
grounded."
"That would give the navy a black eye."
"Some other solution could be worked out then," said Janet.
"You know, that's not a bad idea. It would require some rewriting of the
script, but we've got to have a terrific air race against time and the
elements in this thing for a conclusion. I'll talk it over with Rexler in
the morning."
Then Helen's father changed his mind. "No, I'll talk it over with him
tonight if he's home."
He phoned the general manager's home, found Rexler there, and informed
him he was coming over.
"We'll see what he thinks of your suggestion," he flung at Janet as he
hurried out the door.
"Shall we wait up and learn the outcome of the conference?" asked Helen.
"Just think if they should decide to work out a climax along the line you
suggested."
"I'm all for waiting up, but I'm afraid my suggestion is pretty weak,"
said Janet.
At eleven o'clock Mrs. Thorne decided to retire and urged the girls to do
likewise, but they insisted upon awaiting the return of Helen's father.
Midnight passed and finally the clock struck one A. M.
"I'm too sleepy to stay up any longer," admitted Helen.
"Oh, wait half an hour more," urged Janet, and Helen agreed.
It was 1:20 when Director Thorne reached home. There were hollows under
his eyes and he looked unusually tired, but in his eyes burned a spirit
of elation that fatigue could not beat down. Mrs. Thorne, in a dressing
gown, joined them.
"What's the decision?" asked Helen.
"We're going to work out the climax along the line suggested by Janet,"
replied her father. "Rexler called two of the writers down and they're
working right on through the night on a new treatment for the whole
script. It must be done tomorrow noon. We're to start shooting next week.
It means another bouquet for you, Janet."