"Oh, I wouldn't feel that way about it. I think you did a lot better
than most of the girls I've had in the company."
"Thanks, Curt. That was nice of you to say that, but I realize I have
very definite limitations as an actress."
"Well, I'm not so hot as an actor," he admitted. "About all I have to do
is stick on a horse and shoot a gun loaded with blank cartridges."
"That isn't all and you know it," reproved Janet.
Curt looked at the typewriter and the blank sheet of paper.
"I'm keeping you from your work. I only dropped in to tell you about the
preview tonight. I've got to get along."
"I'm supposed to be generating ideas for Mr. Fenstow's next script,"
confessed Janet, "but the mental generator seems to have gone on a
strike."
"What's the story going to be about?"
"You guess," smiled Janet.
"Well, why don't you have a young heiress, pretty much spoiled, who owns
a ranch. She's never seen it so she goes west for a trip and while there
learns that most of her fortune has been wiped out through the declining
value of securities and by embezzlement of some of her trustees. About
all she has left is the ranch and a brother who is pretty much
worthless."
"It's a grand idea," exulted Janet. "Then of course we could have a
cattle war, some rustling, maybe a vein of gold found on the ranch, and
plenty of action."
"You're supposed to write the story," chided Curt. "Well, I must get
along."
"Thanks for the help. I'll make you coauthor," called Janet as Curt
strode toward the street.
Curt's suggestion gave her the nucleus of her story. It would be a
little different treatment of the western theme. Janet started working,
her fingers flowing rhythmically over the keys. She wrote simply. All
that was required of her was a good, comprehensive outline of the story.
The studio writers would put in the dialogue.
But Janet's interest grew as the story progressed and she found herself
putting in conversation and bits of description of the characters. She
was so absorbed that Helen came and stood beside her for several minutes
before she was aware of her presence.
"Going strong?" she asked.
Janet, barely interrupting the smooth flow of her story, nodded.
"Preview's tonight at the Bijou after the regular feature. Curt Newsom
stopped to tell us."
"Then you'd better stop writing now. You've been at it steadily for more
than hour. You want to feel peppy tonight when we go to see the
preview."
Janet finished the paragraph and pulled the sheet of copy from the
machine. She had written eight pages and the top and bottom margins were
narrow. She wanted to keep on writing, but knew that Helen's advice was
sound. She wanted to be rested enough to enjoy "Water Hole," to see
herself, for probably the only time in her life, as the leading lady of
a motion picture.
They met Billy Fenstow at the box office and he handed them tickets for
a few seats which had been reserved for his friends.
"Nervous?" he asked Janet.
"A little. How is it?"
"Wait and see. Here comes Mr. Rexler."
The girls turned in time to see the taciturn general manager of the Ace
studio stride into the lobby. Close behind him was Helen's father. Janet
felt her heart sink. Here was the chief of the studio on hand to
pronounce final judgment on the picture. But Bill Fenstow seemed
unperturbed and she forced herself to be calm.
They all went in together. The feature was a south sea love drama
produced by a rival studio and it was typical program picture with
nothing to make it outstanding in interest.
Then the picture they had been waiting for flashed on the screen.
"'Water Hole,' directed by Billy Fenstow, starring Curt Newsom and
produced by the Ace Motion Picture Corp." Then came the credits for the
story, photography, etc., and finally the cast of characters with Curt's
name at the top. Janet felt her heart stop for one breathless moment,
Her name--_Janet Hardy_--was the second in the cast and directly under
that was Helen's.
Then the picture zoomed away to a fast start with the action that always
characterized a Billy Fenstow production. Janet tried to be critical,
but she couldn't help enjoying the picture and her voice didn't sound so
terribly bad as it came out of the loudspeakers.
The picture ended all too suddenly. The house lights came up and Janet
found herself staring at the others, waiting for their verdict.
Rexler was the first to speak. He leaned over and tapped Billy Fenstow
on the shoulder.
"Nice show, Billy. Got the girl signed up?"
Billy turned to Janet.
"How about it; want to sign a contract to stay with my unit?"
Suddenly Janet knew that she didn't. It had been a wonderful summer,
climaxed in the picture she had just seen with herself as leading lady,
but now she was just a little homesick. Then, too, there was the trip to
Radio City.
"Not right now," she told the director. "Later, perhaps, but not now."
The general manager looked at her strangely.
"I wouldn't be surprised if it is the smartest thing you could do. If
you change your mind, let me know."
He stood up and stalked down the aisle, but Janet knew now that she
would never change her mind.
Chapter Thirteen
JANET TURNS AUTHOR
Early the next morning Janet returned to the task of writing the story
for Billy Fenstow's next picture. The story developed rapidly and she
found plenty of opportunities to provide the hard-riding action for
which Curt Newsom was famous.
She worked steadily until mid-forenoon when Helen joined her in the
garden.
"How is it going?" she asked.
"It's lots of fun, and I think I have a fairly good idea. Whether I'm
getting it across is another thing," smiled Janet. "I suspect the
regular studio writers will think it pretty much a mess when they get
their hands on it."
"I wouldn't care much what they think as long as Mr. Fenstow likes it.
After all, he's the one who will accept or reject it and the check you
get will depend on his approval."
Janet leaned back in her chair and gazed at the scudding white clouds
far overhead.
"How much do you suppose they'll pay if they accept the story?" she
mused.
"Sometimes they pay thousands of dollars," said Helen.
"But only for outstanding books or plays. I mean for little stories like
this; the kind that perhaps have an idea in them that can be developed
further by the studio staff."
"Maybe a thousand dollars," ventured Helen.
"That would be enough," said Janet, a faraway look in her eyes.
"Now just what do you mean by that?" Helen wanted to know.
"A thousand dollars would go a long ways toward guaranteeing me a
college education. Why, with what I've saved out of our salaries this
summer, I'd have nearly two thousand dollars and I could make that go a
long ways toward four years of college."
"I've saved a lot this summer, too," admitted Helen. "Dad and mother
were talking this morning. We're going back to Clarion."
Helen was silent for a moment. Then Janet spoke.
"When are you going back?"
"Soon; perhaps next week. But you and I will go on to New York to help
with the radio promotion of 'Kings of the Air.'"
"Will you be happy in Clarion after a summer here?" asked Janet,
watching her companion closely.
"I'm sure I will. After all, I'm a small town girl and all this amazes
and scares me a little. Perhaps when college days are over I'll want to
come back and try to make a name for myself in pictures. Dad thinks that
would be wise."
"What school are you going to go to?" Janet asked the question with
bated breath. They had always planned on going to their own state
university, Corn Belt U., but she thought it possible that Helen's
father might have expressed some other preference since their arrival on
the coast.
"Corn Belt U.," replied Helen. "Dad left that entirely up to me and of
course I wanted to follow out our plans."
Janet sighed heartily. She was elated at Helen's words for it meant that
the pleasant companionship they had enjoyed through high school days
could continue through college.
"We'll have lots of fun," said Helen, "but if we go on to Radio City for
the promotion work we'll have to register late. Perhaps we can arrange
for that while we're home. It isn't more than half a day's drive from
home to school."
"I'm sure we can, especially if we explain that the trip to New York
will enable us to earn more money for our college educations."
"But, Janet, you know we don't actually have to earn our way through
school. Dad's got plenty and your father is comfortably fixed."
"I know it, but it's a matter of pride. I'd like to have as much of my
own money as possible for college. If I got in a pinch, I'd yell for
Dad's help, I suppose."
They talked on about college plans and were finally interrupted when
Mrs. Thorne summoned them to lunch,
More plans for their return to Clarion were made at the luncheon table.
Packing would have to be started soon.
"Let's pick out our college wardrobes here in Hollywood. Then we'll be
sure and have the latest styles."
"Maybe Hollywood styles won't be campus styles," smiled Janet, "but I
would like a chance to wear that wonderful gown Roddy made for me to a
college party."
It was pleasant to think of their first experience in Hollywood when
Roddy, the famous designer of gowns at the Ace studio, had created
gorgeous evening gowns for them to wear at their first movie premiere.
Janet could imagine that wearing such gowns at a party on the campus at
Corn Belt U. would create quite a sensation, and she thrilled pleasantly
at the thought.
After luncheon was over, Janet returned to her writing and Helen joined
her beside the pool, stripping the wrapper off a copy of the _Clarion
Times_, which had arrived on the noonday mail.
"Look at this; what nerve!" exclaimed Helen, shoving the front page of
the paper at Janet. She pointed to a story in the center of the page.
Janet stared at the headline with unbelieving eyes.
"LOCAL GIRLS FEATURED IN MOVIE."
Her eyes followed down to the story, which heralded the fact that Cora
Dean and Margie Blake, Clarion girls touring in the west, had been
drafted for roles in a western picture by Billy Fenstow, the famous
director. Janet read on.
"Miss Dean and Miss Blake report that Janet Hardy and Helen Thorne also
have roles in the picture," the story said.
It was then that Janet flushed. She could have told Cora and Margie just
what she thought of them if they had been anywhere within hearing
distance but fortunately for them, perhaps, they were a good many miles
away.
"How do you suppose the _Times_ got that story?" asked Janet, the flush
fading from her cheeks.
"I know," said Helen with emphasis. "Cora wrote to Pete Benda, the city
editor, and gave him all of the information which is in the story.
Imagine her telling him 'that we are also in the picture.' I'm certainly
going to see that 'Water Hole' is shown in the theaters at home. That
will kind of spoil their story."
Janet laughed. "Perhaps Cora and Margie did feel that they had the major
roles. You never can tell what others will think is important."
"It would be a joke on them if the film cutters left out the sequence
they're in," chuckled Helen.
Janet looked at her quickly.
"Don't you suggest that to anyone," she warned.
"I won't," promised Helen.
Janet handed the paper back to her companion and went on with her work.
She spent most of the afternoon at the typewriter and when she was
through, felt that she had done a good day's work. The manuscript would
be ready with only another morning's writing.
Billy Fenstow, dropping in after dinner for a visit with Helen's father
inquired about the story and Janet handed him the first draft of as much
as she had completed.
The little director read it with interest, the lines around his eyes
gathering in little puckers as he skimmed through the typed pages. Janet
almost held her breath through all the time he was reading and she saw
Henry Thorne leaning forward, trying to read some reaction on Billy
Fenstow's face.
When the director had finished, he looked up and smiled at Janet.
"Reads well," he commented. "Of course there are a lot of rough spots,
but we'll be able to use it."
Chapter Fourteen
CLOTHES BY RODDY
Janet felt her pulse pounding. Acceptance of the story would mean a
great deal toward swelling her college fund and she leaned forward
eagerly.
"You mean you'll accept it?" she asked.
"If your final chapters are as good as these, we'll take it," replied
Mr. Fenstow. "Of course we won't be able to pay a whole lot since the
studio staff will have to whip it into shape, but we'll make it worth
your while."
"How much do you think it will be?" this was from Helen, whose interest
in the sale of the story was almost as great as Janet's.
Billy Fenstow mopped his forehead.
"That will be up to Mr. Rexler. I'd say that it wouldn't be more than a
thousand dollars."
"Really!" gasped Janet, who had visions of her college fund mounting in
one great jump.
"Well, maybe not that much, but I'll get all I can for you. Now you
finish it up as rapidly as possible."
"It will be ready tomorrow noon," promised Janet.
Billy Fenstow left a short time later and after he had gone, Henry
Thorne spoke to them about the journey back to Clarion.
"Now that Janet is practically assured the sale of her story, we'd
better make our plans. Can you be ready to start home next Monday?"
The girls looked blankly at each other. Of course they had known that
their stay in Hollywood was near an end, but to put the date so soon was
something of a shock.
Mrs. Thorne spoke first.
"I'm sure we can, Henry. But we'll almost need a truck to take back all
of the things we've accumulated."
"I'll have some professional packers come out and make whatever boxes
are needed," her husband assured her.
"But we've got to get clothes," wailed Helen. "We want to wear Hollywood
styles when we go to college."
Her father bit the end of his cigar and looked at it thoughtfully.
"Why don't you call on Roddy?"
"But he wouldn't do clothes for us; we couldn't afford it," said Helen.
"He might do it for you as a special favor to me," grinned her father.
"As a matter of fact, I think he mentioned something about it the other
day. Wanted to know when you were leaving and said he might be able to
do something for you."
"We'll see him the first thing in the morning," said Helen.
"I won't," spoke up Janet. "I've got to finish the story whether I have
clothes made by Roddy or not."
"That's the fight, Janet," said Henry Thorne.
"When do we go on to Radio City?" asked Helen.
"You'll have only a couple of days at home. Then you'll have to go on to
New York."
"How long will we be there?" Janet wanted to know.
"I'm not sure. At least ten days; perhaps more."
"Which means we'll have to hurry back home and start in to school as
soon as our work at Radio City is over," put in Helen. "I wonder how it
will seem to be before a microphone?"
"Not any worse than before a camera," said Janet.
They talked on at length of plans for their college days and although it
was late when they went to bed, Janet was up early and working at her
typewriter. The final two chapters of her story unrolled easily and
rapidly and at eleven o'clock she leaned back in her chair. The job was
done.
Helen had gone on to the studio to talk with Roddy and Janet was to join
her after lunch. Janet stood up and stretched. Her back ached from the
strain of bending over her typewriter and she went into the house and
changed into her trim swimming suit. Fifteen minutes in the pool washed
away the aches and when she emerged she felt greatly refreshed.
Janet dressed carefully for she wanted to look well when she talked to
Roddy. Mrs. Thorne was the only other one at home for lunch and they
enjoyed a pleasant meal.
Janet picked up the finished manuscript and took it with her to the
studio. She left it at Billy Fenstow's office and went on to the
building where Roddy had his office and where the wizard of design
created the gorgeous fashions that were worn by the stars in the big
productions at the Ace studio.
Helen was in Roddy's own fitting room and Janet joined her there. Roddy
appeared in a few minutes and after greeting her warmly, set about the
task of providing her with a new outfit.
"Tell me just what you want," he smiled.
"Honestly, I don't know. I'm going to college," said Janet.
"Then let me decide," he begged and Janet agreed.
The next hours passed in a swirl of fittings and cloth which was draped
this way and that around them, and when they were through neither girl
knew exactly what had happened.
"That's all," said the little designer. "I'll send them to your home. It
will be a week before they're ready."
"Thanks so much," said the girls as Roddy waved them out of the office.
"What do you suppose he's going to make?" asked Janet.
"Well, I know there'll be a sport outfit and an afternoon dress; perhaps
something for the classroom; about three apiece."
"But how will we ever pay for them? The materials alone will be more
than we can afford."
"Let's not worry about that. I have a hunch that there will never be a
bill for them."
They met Helen's father near the studio entrance and they all drove home
together.
"I've had a long talk with the general manager," he said. "You've got to
be in Radio City in about ten days."
"That won't mean much time at home," said Janet.
"Nor much to get to Corn Belt U. and get our late registrations fixed
up," added Helen.
"Don't worry about that. All those details can be taken care of," said
her father. "Just plan to have a good time in Radio City when you get
there."
Both girls knew that they would enjoy their broadcasting experience in
New York to the utmost. There might be a little fear of the microphone
but they knew that facing a camera couldn't be any harder than one of
the silent "Mikes."
At dinner that night they told of their hours with Roddy and speculated
again at the creations which his fertile mind would turn out for them.
"No use to try and guess," warned Helen's father. "You never can predict
what Roddy will do."
On the following day Janet received a telephone call from Billy Fenstow.
"Can you come over to the studio?" he asked.
"Just as soon as a taxi can get me there," she promised.
Helen and her mother were down town shopping and Janet phoned for a
taxi. She slipped into a fresh dress while she was waiting and then was
whirled away to the studio. Envious eyes watched her go through the
gates which were shut to so many.
Janet found the little director in his office back at stage nine, her
pile of manuscript in front of him.
"I've finished the story and Mr. Rexler has gone over it," said the
director, after greeting Janet and waving her toward a chair.
She waited breathlessly for his next words.
"We both think it will do. Mind, it isn't anything sensational, but it
does have a new twist or two and can be made into a Curt Newsom feature
very well."
He paused and picked up a check which was on his desk.
"There will have to be a great deal done to the story by our own writing
staff, so we felt seven hundred and fifty dollars would be a fair price
to offer for the story," he said handing the check to Janet.
She took it mechanically and turned it over. Then looked at the name on
the face of the check. It was payable to Janet Hardy.
"Thanks so much, Mr. Fenstow. It's very satisfactory."
"Too bad you won't stay on. I'd give you the lead," he urged.
"I'm sorry, but I've made up my mind. Perhaps when college days are
over, I'll come back and apply for a job."
"You'll get one if I'm still on the lot grinding out westerns," he
promised.
Janet left the little office and walked across the sprawling motion
picture plant. It was probably her last visit for the hours left before
their departure would be filled with thoughts of packing. It was a dull
time at the studio, with only one or two pictures in production, but
with the coming weeks every sound stage would be humming with activity
as new celluloid dramas were rushed to completion for the entertainment
of millions of movie fans. Janet knew that she would not be a part of
it, but there was a tremendous satisfaction in recalling the experiences
of the past weeks and looking forward to the new ones that were bound to
come at Radio City.
Chapter Fifteen
HOMEWARD BOUND
Hours filled with packing and last minute details took their time up
almost until the actual hour of the departure of their plane. They
finished finally at midnight and they were to take the four o'clock
eastbound plane for the midwest. New schedules had been inaugurated
since they had come west and they would be home in time for dinner that
night.
Helen's mother came in.
"You girls must get some sleep, or you'll look pretty much worn out when
you reach Clarion."
"I'm too excited to sleep," confessed Janet.
"Then let's take a swim in the pool. That ought to relax us," urged
Helen.
They slipped into their suits and for nearly half an hour enjoyed the
pool. The moon was well up in the cloudless sky and it was an ideal
night. Neither girl said very much, just floated on the pool, wondering
what the coming weeks would have in store for them.
When they finally emerged from the water they were ready to call it a
day and they were sound asleep by one o'clock.
Mrs. Thorne called them at three. It was still dark, but a hot breakfast
was ready for them in the dining room. Even up to the last minute it
seemed as though there were a host of things to do and they took a final
survey of the house before they closed their bags. Two cabs were
waiting; one for them and the other to take their bags.
It was exactly three-thirty when they started for the airport. The
streets were deserted and lights were on in only a few of the homes.
Their cab swung on to a boulevard and flashed past the entrance of the
Ace studio. Janet caught only a glimpse of the plant, but she felt a
queer tightening of her heart, and she wondered if she had been wise in
deciding to leave Hollywood. But it was too late now. She had made her
decision.
At the airport the big twin-motored transport was on the ramp, its
motors idling and flickers of blue flame coming out of the exhaust under
the wing.
An attendant at the gate checked the tickets Henry Thorne held in his
hand and they were escorted to the plane where their stewardess assigned
their seats. The cabin of this ship was even more luxuriously furnished
than the one in which they had flown west and Janet settled herself
comfortably into the thickly upholstered chair. Their baggage was stowed
in the tail of the plane and then she saw the pilots come out of the
office.
They stepped into the cabin and walked up the narrow aisle to their own
compartment. Both of them were youthful and Janet wondered that they had
the marvelous skill in their hands necessary to guide the huge plane on
its flight.
Two more passengers hastened up to the gate and were escorted to the
cabin. Then the stewardess checked the list of reservations. In addition
to Henry Thorne and his party, there were only the two late-comers, both
of whom were men.
The motors roared and the plane rolled ahead, gaining speed rapidly.
Before Janet knew it they were off the ground and soaring into a half
light of the early day. A blanket of lights unfolded beneath them, but
the lights were strangely dim and the plane headed away for the
mountains, climbing steadily to have safety in crossing the dangerous
peaks.
Night faded rapidly now and they were well into the mountains at
sunrise. They were heading northeast, flying now over great stretches of
desolate land where there was nothing but sand and sagebrush, and
sometimes precious little sagebrush.
Salt Lake City was beneath them almost before they knew it and when the
plane landed there Janet and Helen got out to stretch their legs while
the crews were changed and the plane refuelled. Then they were in the
air again, climbing once more to get above the continental divide and
after that came the descent to Cheyenne. Lunch was served aboard the
plane with Omaha the next stop and they roared on east as the sun rolled
westward.
Janet was watching the landscape below closely now for this was her home
state--a land dotted with many farms and huddles of houses that were the
villages, tied together by strips of white highway and an occasional
train that seemed to be puffing along a ladder which had been laid on
the ground.
Almost before she knew it the motors of the plane lessened their roar
and a town appeared underneath. It was Rubio, the nearest regular stop
on the transcontinental line.