Henry Thorne’s words echoed in Janet’s ears as the girls changed their costumes in the dressing room. Of course he must have been saying it lightly, paying them a pleasant compliment for their work. She forced herself to dismiss it from serious consideration.

They changed quickly, hung up their costumes, and hurried out to join their parents for Henry Thorne was entertaining at dinner down town.

“What was the idea of telling us you were in charge of lighting when you actually played the second lead?” Janet’s mother asked after they had left the gym and were rolling down town in the car.

“But mother, I told the truth. I was in charge of lighting until about twenty minutes before the curtain went up. Then one of the drops broke away and fell on Margie. She suffered a minor concussion and it was up to someone to step in and take the part or the show would have flopped right then and there before the curtain went up.”

“You mean you stepped in cold and handled the second lead?” asked Henry Thorne, turning around in the front seat to gaze incredulously at Janet.

“But it wasn’t hard. You see I tried out for that rôle and then I attended every rehearsal. Of course I sort of lived the character I tried out for. I missed some of the lines tonight, but the others knew I might and they covered up for me.”

“Well, I’ll be darned. I thought you had been rehearsing it from the first and had told us you were on lights just to surprise us,” said the famous director. “Anyway, you did a swell job. Maybe I will take you back to the coast with me.”

“Now Henry,” protested his wife, “don’t start saying things you don’t mean. You’ll get the girls all excited and then you’ll have to rush away to start work on another picture and you’ll forget all about your promises to them.”

“Probably you’re right mother, but they’re smart, good looking girls, even if one of them is my daughter, and heavens knows we could use some really smart, level-headed girls in one of my companies.”

Janet’s father wheeled the car in to the curb in front of the restaurant where they were to have dinner and in the bustle of getting out of the car conversation switched to another topic, but Henry Thorne’s words persisted in sticking in Janet’s mind.

Henry Thorne had planned and ordered the supper himself. It was a man’s meal and Janet and Helen, now tremendously hungry after the strain of the play, enjoyed it to the utmost.

First there was chilled tomato juice and in the center of the table a heaping platter of celery, olives and pickled onions that they ate with relish through all of the courses of the dinner.

Then came great sizzling steaks, thick and almost swimming in their own juice, french fried potatoes, a liberal head lettuce salad, small buttered peas, hot rolls and jam. And after that there was open-face cherry pie and coffee for those who cared for it.

“So this is your idea of a meal, Henry?” asked his wife, surveying the welter of dishes on the table.

“Well, perhaps not every day and every meal, but once in a while I’d say yes. This is my idea of a meal.”

“I think it’s been grand,” spoke up Janet’s mother, “especially since I didn’t have to do any work toward it.”

“That does make a difference,” conceded Mrs. Thorne, “but I’d hate to think of Henry’s waistline if he had a meal like this every day.”

Conversation turned to neighborhood issues and talk of the town, for Henry Thorne maintained a tremendously active interest in the affairs of his home city.

When they finally started home, it was well after one o’clock, but routine school days for Janet and Helen were at an end. Exams were over and there was only the junior-senior banquet and then commencement.

Janet slept late the next morning and it was after ten o’clock when her mother finally awakened her.

“Helen and her father just phoned they are coming over. I thought you might like to go with them. After they get some worms out of the back yard they’re going fishing. I’ll put up a lunch.”

Janet hurried into her clothes and met Helen and her father as they arrived. Henry Thorne was armed with an ancient cane fishpole, had on a venerable straw hat, cracked but comfortable shoes, old overalls and a blue shirt.

“I think he’s thoroughly disreputable looking,” said Helen, laughing at her father.

“Granted, my dear, but I’m most thoroughly comfortable, which is the main thing. I wouldn’t trade this old fishing outfit for the best suit of clothes in the world.”

Janet showed them a corner of the back lot that promised to be productive of worms, and then went in the house for her own breakfast. She ate on the kitchen table while her mother packed a basket of lunch to be taken by the anglers.

It was a grand morning for a fishing expedition and especially if those going fishing really didn’t care whether they caught any fish or not. Just before they left Janet’s father arrived and hastily changed into old clothes.

“Want to go to the creek in the car?” asked John Hardy.

“Not on your life. We’re walking, both ways,” grinned Henry Thorne, and the men, the cane poles over their shoulders, started for the creek. Helen carried the can of worms and Janet took the lunch basket.

Indian creek was a pleasant stream, meandering through the rolling hills north of Clarion. Its waters were clear, alternating in quiet pools and swift little riffles over its gravel bed.

The air was mild and there was scarcely a cloud in the sky. They went up the creek for more than a mile before Henry Thorne found a pool that looked like it might have a few bullheads. The foliage overhead was thick and the water here looked almost turgid, far different from the clear stream which danced along its bed farther down.

The men baited their hooks and Janet and Helen sat down to watch the fishermen.

Helen’s father got the first bite, but he failed to land his fish. After that there was a long interval when the fishermen failed to talk and the fish failed to bite. Then the bullheads all seemed hungry and Janet’s father was the first to land one, but Henry Thorne was right behind him with a larger catch.

“Cut a willow stick for a stringer,” said Helen’s father, tossing a knife to her, and Helen, knowing exactly what was needed, found a forked willow and trimmed it down.

In less than an hour they had eleven bullheads on the willow stick.

“That’s plenty,” decided Janet’s father. “There’s no use spoiling the fun by taking more than we need. Shall we have them for supper tonight at my place?”

“Nothing doing. We’ll have them right here. Remember when we were kids and used to clean them along the creek, put them on a stick, and try and cook them over a fire?”

Janet’s father nodded.

“That’s what we’re going to do right now. We’ll clean the fish while the girls get some dry sticks and build a fire.”

Thus they had their noon meal, bullheads off the spit, crisp and hot, with just a sprinkle of salt on them, sandwiches and fruit from the basket, and cool, sweet water from a nearby spring.

Henry Thorne, his appetite appeased, his mind and body relaxed, stretched out on the grass and looked meditatively into the creek.

“What a life this would be – no strain, no thoughts of tomorrow, no temperamental stars to worry about, no stories to doctor, no budget to watch.”

“But after what you’ve had this would tire in a few weeks. Why, you’re thinking about getting back into the harness right now,” said Janet’s father.

Henry Thorne flushed guiltily.

“Caught that time,” he admitted. “Sure I was thinking about getting back on the job. I’m too much of a work horse, I guess.”

“But you’ll stay until after graduation, won’t you?” asked Helen anxiously.

“That’s one thing you needn’t worry about,” promised her father. “I’m thinking now of what’s going to be best for you after high school days are over; whether you and mother will prefer to stay here in Clarion or would like to come west with me. You’re pretty much of a young woman now, Helen, and from the play last night, quite a capable little actress.”

“Not much of an actress, I’m afraid, Dad, but I did want to be in the class play because you were coming home and I wanted you to be proud of me.”

“I was very proud of you, dear. Just how proud you’ll never know, and I’ve been trying to think of something I could do that would show you just how pleased I was over the work you and Janet did in the class play.”

They were silent for a time, all of them enjoying the quiet charm of the afternoon. Henry Thorne puffed slowly on a venerable pipe while Janet’s father dozed, his hat pulled down to shield his eyes from the sun. The embers of their fire turned black and then grey as they cooled.

Janet thoroughly enjoyed relaxing on the creek bank. School days were almost over and she couldn’t help wondering what the summer and the coming year would hold in store for her. Of course there would be college in the fall, but just where had not been determined. It was generally understood at home, though, that she would be allowed to make her own choice providing it was anywhere near within reason.

Janet knew that Helen’s plans were very uncertain. Her friend wasn’t even sure that they would continue to make their home in Clarion.

Just then Henry Thorne knocked the ashes out of his pipe and squinted at the sun.

“Better be starting home,” he said. He picked up a small stick and tossed it at Janet’s father, who awoke with a start.

“Come on sleepy-head. Time to go.”

Janet finished packing the few utensils that went back into the lunch basket while the men wound up the lines on their fishpoles.

They started home, walking leisurely in the warm afternoon, the men leading the way.

Half a mile down the creek they came upon a farm boy, riding bareback. The horse was a beautiful, spirited animal, and the lad rode with amazing grace. They paused for several minutes to watch the horse and rider until they finally disappeared over a nearby hill.

“Can either of you girls ride?” Henry Thorne asked the question almost sharply.

“A little, but not much nor very well,” confessed Janet.

“I belong in the same class,” added Helen.

“Is there any place in town where we can find good horses and a good instructor?” Helen’s father shot the question at John Hardy.

“Hill and Dale farm keeps a fine string of horses. I’m sure I could arrange for instruction there.”

“I’ll go with you this evening and we’ll see what can be done. I want the girls to become proficient at riding as soon as possible.”

“But what’s the idea?” asked Helen.

“Just another quirk of mine,” smiled her father.

As soon as they reached home Henry Thorne urged Janet’s father to accompany him to see about riding lessons for the girls and just before dinner returned.

“Your first lesson will be at eight o’clock to-morrow morning,” he announced. “Look up some old duds that won’t be hurt if you fall off.”

“But how about the girls?” demanded his wife.

“They’ll have to take a chance on that,” he smiled.

Chapter XV
HOLLYWOOD BOUND

Janet remained awake for some time that night, wondering what the significance of Henry Thorne’s decision to have her and Helen learn to ride, and ride well, could be. Finally she gave it up as a bad job, realizing that he would tell them in his own good time.

Graduation week passed in a mixed whirl of events, with the junior-senior banquet and actual graduation exercises interspersed between the long hours passed at Hill and Dale farm where Janet and Helen underwent an intensive series of lessons on horsemanship. Both girls were agile and anxious to learn, and both soon came to enjoy the riding thoroughly. Their instructor, an older man, found them eager pupils and Helen’s father encouraged them at each lesson, for he went with them on every trip to the farm.

Like the senior class play, the graduation exercises were held in the gymnasium and Helen stopped for Janet. They were going on ahead of their parents for they had to be at school half an hour before the start of the program.

“I hope I don’t smell like a stable,” smiled Helen, radiant in her crisp, white organdie dress. “We’ve been at the farm so much I almost say ‘Giddap’ every time I start to do anything.”

“I feel almost the same way. One good thing, though, I can sit down comfortably now and I couldn’t after the first two days.”

When they came down from Janet’s room, Helen’s father and mother were there.

“We’re early, but I want to talk to your folks,” Henry Thorne told Janet. “You youngsters run along and we’ll be there in plenty of time.”

When they were on their way to school, Helen spoke.

“Dad’s been acting so mysteriously the last two days and mother seems to be unusually happy about something. This morning Dad put in a call for Hollywood, but he wouldn’t talk from home; went down to a pay station. I asked mother what was up, but she said not for me to worry as long as she wasn’t.”

“Perhaps he isn’t going back west,” suggested Janet.

“You don’t know Dad. I heard him mumbling just this afternoon about some kind of a story idea. You know he usually sits in on the final drafting of all of the stories he produces. I expect that as soon as graduation is over he’ll start back.”

“Has he said anything more about taking you with him?”

“Not a word lately and that’s what I’m puzzled about. Neither Dad nor mother have talked about what I’m to do next fall. You know I’d like to go to school with you.”

“And I’d like to have you, Helen. I’ll be lost if we aren’t able to hit it off together. We’ve had such good times through high school and especially this last year.”

The final meeting of the seniors, as a class, was held in the assembly, the girls in their snow-white dresses and the boys all in their dark suits made a pleasing contrast. Some of them were visibly nervous while others remained unusually calm. To some it was a momentous event while others took it as the last step in a tiresome school career.

Margie Blake, still white and feeling none too strong, was near the door when Janet and Helen entered.

Janet started to speak, but Margie deliberately turned her back, and Janet, shocked and hurt, looked at her sharply.

“Now why do you suppose she did that?” she asked Helen.

“I wasn’t going to tell you, but you might as well know,” said Helen. “Margie is hinting around that she suspects you had something to do with the injury she suffered.”

“You mean that I contrived to have that piece of scenery fall on her just so I could get her part in the play?”

“That’s exactly what Margie’s hinting. Of course she isn’t saying that openly, but she doesn’t give you much room to guess what she means.”

“Then I’m going to have a word with Margie right now. That’s one thing I won’t stand for.” Janet’s face was flushed and she was furiously angry when she confronted Margie.

Margie’s eyes widened and Helen thought she saw her hands tremble just a little. Perhaps she surmised that Janet was on the warpath and that she was the cause of it.

“Margie, I’ve been told that you are insinuating I was responsible for the accident which forced you out of the play and gave me your place. Is that so?”

Janet’s words were low enough so that only Margie and Helen could hear, but there was a compelling force in them that would not be denied.

“Why, no, that’s not so. I never said you caused the accident.” Margie stammered and flushed hotly.

“You’ve no right to accuse me of this thing,” she added defiantly.

“I’ve a very good right if you are dropping hints about me and the accident the night of the play. If you’ve been doing that all I’ve got to say is that you’re smaller than I ever dreamed you could be. You’re simply below contempt.”

Janet whirled and left Margie with tears in her eyes. Helen paused a moment for Margie seemed about to speak.

“I’m sorry about what I’ve said,” Margie managed to say. “I guess I was a little indiscreet, but you tell Janet I won’t say anything else.”

“I’ll tell her and I think you’ll be a very wise girl if you decide to let the whole thing drop,” advised Helen, turning to rejoin Janet, who had gone to the other side of the room.

The principal was giving his final words of instruction.

“As your names are called for the presentation of diplomas, each of you will come from your places to the platform, receive a tube of paper, and return. After the exercises are over come to me in this room and I will present your real diplomas. If you can not come here after the close of the exercises, call at my office tomorrow.”

He paused a moment, then added, “and I should like to say that I am extremely proud of this class. I think it is the finest to graduate from Clarion High in the eight years I have been principal.”

“Which,” whispered Helen, “is quite a compliment, if you ask me. It’s the first he ever paid this class.”

“He sort of made up for the lack before by these last words,” smiled Janet.

Again they went onto the stage of the gymnasium, but this time not as actors and actresses in a play of make believe, but in the very serious business of graduating from high school.

The gymnasium was filled with parents and friends of the seniors. The air was close, portending the storm that was to break later. Fortunately the program was simple, the address by the superintendent of schools lasting only fifteen minutes. Then the names were called and one by one they went forward and when they came back their high school days were over.

It had been grand, being in school, decided Janet, and now she felt just a little scared. Life was ahead and life was so vast and uncomprehending and she knew it could be cold and cruel and merciless.

They bowed their heads at the benediction, there was a final swell of music from the orchestra and the lights in the gymnasium glared. It was over and Janet, in that moment, felt years older. She was a high school girl no longer…

Parents and friends of the graduates crowded around them and Janet saw her father beckoning.

“Get your diplomas,” he called. “We’ll meet you outside.”

Janet and Helen went up to the assembly where they turned in the paper scrolls which had been presented to them at the program. In return they received their real diplomas.

Outside they found their parents.

“We were tremendously proud of both of you,” said Janet’s mother. “You were by far the prettiest girls on the stage.”

“I’ll cast my vote in support of that statement,” put in Helen’s father, “and that’s from someone who should know a pretty girl when he sees one.”

They had planned a light supper at Thorne’s and all of them enjoyed the walk home for the air was close. Dark banks of clouds, illuminated once in a while by flashes of lightning, were mounting higher and higher in the west.

“Looks like we’ll get a real one tonight,” said Janet’s father, and the others agreed.

“Do you realize that the folks haven’t given us anything for graduation?” whispered Helen.

“Well, not exactly any concrete gift just now, but they’ve given me a lot of character and a sense of realization of the finer and honest things of life.”

“Oh, silly, of course I realize that, but Dad has been so mysterious today I know something is in the wind.”

When they reached Helen’s home they sat down to an informal supper in the dining room.

On two plates were envelopes, one marked “Janet” and the other “Helen.” Helen’s father was puffing rather furiously at his pipe as he watched the girls, their fingers clumsy from their haste, rip open the envelopes.

Long green slips of paper, looking very much like railroad tickets, came out of the envelopes. Helen was the first to read hers.

“Why, Dad,” she cried. “It’s a round trip ticket by airplane to Los Angeles.”

“So is mine,” gasped Janet. “What does this mean?”

Her father chuckling, nodded toward Henry Thorne.

“I’d say that it meant a round trip to Los Angeles. Also, if you’ll dig a little further into your envelopes, you’ll find reservations for the westbound plane out of Rubio just one week from tonight.”

“But Dad, we didn’t know anything about this,” gasped Helen.

“Of course not. It wouldn’t have been a surprise,” chuckled her father.

“Seriously though,” he added, “I liked your performances in the high school play and I’ve talked it all over with Janet’s folks and with mother here. You’re going back to Hollywood to spend the summer with me and this morning I contracted the production unit of our company which makes cowboy films and both of you are to have a chance in the cast of that picture. You’re Hollywood bound, girls.”