Janet Hardy in Hollywood Part 15

Janet helped her mother clear away the dishes. It was too late to wash them and they were hastily stacked in the sink.

"How do you think Henry looks?" asked John Hardy coming into the kitchen.

"He's too tired and looks like he's been going on nervous energy for simply days," replied Janet's mother.

"I got the same impression. If we can manage to make him forget that strenuous business of his, of making successful motion pictures he'll be able to build himself up."

"He'll find plenty to interest himself in the graduation program," said Mrs. Hardy, "and if you take him on some fis.h.i.+ng and loafing expeditions along the creek he'll get a fine chance to relax."

"Unless they send a rush call from the coast for him to return at once like they did a year ago just after he had settled down to a fine vacation. Well, staying up and talking doesn't help the situation. Scoot for bed, Janet. It's a good thing you aren't in the cla.s.s play, what with keeping such late hours as this."

Up until the afternoon of the play Janet saw very little of Helen's father. He was over to the house once, but Helen informed her that he had been sleeping and taking long drives around the countryside with her mother.

"They have so very much to visit about," explained Helen, who was worn thin by the strain of the last rehearsals. The night before it had been midnight before they rang down the curtain. Janet had been up equally as late for her work on the meager lighting equipment kept her on the job as long as the cast rehea.r.s.ed.

On Friday afternoon they made a final check of sets and lights and costumes and Miss Williams rehea.r.s.ed one or two of the minor characters who had been causing more trouble than the leads in getting their lines in just the way she wanted them.

The gymnasium was filled with row upon row of chairs. The old curtain which s.h.i.+elded the stage had been refurbished and looked quite presentable in spite of the landscape scene which it depicted. Someday Janet hoped the school would be able to buy adequate stage equipment. The stage was large enough, but the sets were pitifully few in number and all of them several years old. They had been changed a little here and there by the stagecraft cla.s.s, but underneath you could detect the same flats and doors and windows of other years.

It was five o'clock before they finally straggled away from the gym and the call for the entire cast and stage crew was 6:30 o'clock for Miss Williams wanted everyone on hand early. Janet had seen the instructor conferring with a rather distinguished looking man that afternoon and guessed that he was the representative of the producing company, there to see the production and make the final decision on offering a job to Miss Williams.

Janet, in spite of the fact that she was only a member of the stage crew, found it hard to eat even though supper that night was especially delicious and her mother, although silent, looked at her reprovingly.

Helen arrived before supper was over and Janet was surprised to see her so calm. Perhaps her father had been coaching her on composure.

Janet folded up a clean smock, tucked it under one arm, and joined Helen.

"Good luck, girls," said her father. "We'll wait for you after the show and all have a lunch down town to celebrate the event."

"Do you know where your folks are going to sit?" asked Janet.

Helen shook her head. "Dad wouldn't tell me; thought if I knew I would be looking for them and it might make me nervous."

"This is the first time a high school cla.s.s has ever performed before a famous Hollywood director," said Janet.

"Oh, don't think of Dad in that way. Now that he's back home he's just a neighbor and he wants to be thought of in that way."

"All right, but you can't keep the cast from remembering that an ace director is in the audience tonight."

"I suppose not. I only hope it won't make them too excited and upset."

"How about yourself?"

"I had been wondering up until tonight. But now I've made myself realize that he's just Dad and that makes all of the difference in the world.

Sort of gives me the confidence that I need for I know that if I make mistakes he'll understand. I wish you were going to be Abbie."

"Well I'm not, and you'll get along all right with Margie. I think she's really been working hard."

"Oh, she's worked hard enough, but somehow she doesn't seem real in the character."

"You mean I'm just crazy and silly enough to make a very real Abbie?"

chided Janet.

Helen's face flushed quickly.

"You know better than that. Margie is light-headed enough for the role of Abbie, but she lacks some spark of sincerity that's needed, for after all, you know, Abbie finally solves the riddle of the Chinese image and pulls out the string of priceless pearls which saves the fortunes of the Naughtons."

The cast and stage crew reported on time and Miss Williams checked each of them in. She devoted her own energies to making up the princ.i.p.als while several other teachers, fairly adept in dramatics, helped with the makeup of the minor characters.

Janet put on her smock and checked the lighting instructions which had been mimeographed and placed it beside the small switchboard. Actually she knew them all by heart, but she wanted to be sure there would be no mistake; no dimming of the lights when they should be brightened nor a sudden blackout in the middle of a love scene.

Margie Blake came up from one of the dressing rooms. She was glorious in salmon-hued taffeta and golden slippers.

Margie, fully aware of the striking picture she made, walked slowly across the stage, which had been set for the opening scene, the garden of the Naughton home.

Ed Rickey was standing nearby and Janet saw his eyes widen as they took in the beauty of Margie and her costume. And Janet felt her own heart tighten. Here she was in a smock, with her hands none too clean, no wonder that Ed had eyes only for Margie.

One of the sky drops was hanging unevenly and Miss Williams sent one of the boys in the stage crew up into the loft to adjust the lines and even the drop. The dramatic instructor stood in the middle of the stage motioning for first one end of the drop and then the other to be lifted or lowered.

Suddenly there was a cry from the loft and Janet, looking up, saw one end of the heavy drop sagging. It hung there for a moment. Then there was the sound of rending wood and the drop hurtled down toward the stage.

Miss Williams leaped backward instinctively, but Margie, seated on a garden bench, didn't have a chance.

Janet tried to shout a warning, but the cry jammed in her throat. Margie looked up and Janet caught one terror-stricken look on her face. Then the drop thudded to the floor, a tangle of painted canvas enveloping Margie.

_Chapter XIII_ JANET STEPS IN

Ed Rickey was the first to reach Margie. With desperate hands he tore away the pile of canvas, splintered wood and snarl of rope. Jim Barron, who had rushed from the dressing room with his makeup only half on, helped Ed lift Margie to a nearby bench.

Then Miss Williams took charge. Margie was breathing regularly, but her eyes were closed. There was a nasty b.u.mp over her forehead and her dress looked like it might have been run over by a ten-ton truck, for a ma.s.s of dust and grime had come down with the drop.

The boy who had been in the scene loft scrambled down.

"The pulleys let go!" he cried. "Honestly, Miss Williams, I couldn't help it."

"Of course not, and I don't think Margie is badly hurt. She'll come around in a minute or two."

Someone brought a gla.s.s of water and Miss Williams raised Margie's head and forced some water between her lips.

After a time Margie opened her eyes.

"Where was the storm?" she mumbled. Then, recognizing the anxious faces of the members of the cast about her, struggled to sit up.

"What hit me?" she demanded thickly.