Janet Hardy in Hollywood Part 16

"The pulleys gave way and a drop came down," explained Ed.

Margie tried to stand up, but sat down abruptly.

"My head," she moaned. "It feels ten sizes too large."

"Carry her downstairs," Miss Williams said to Ed and Jim. While the boys were obeying instructions, Miss Williams went to a telephone and summoned a doctor.

It was 7:15 o'clock then and the curtain was set for eight. In just forty-five minutes the show must go on and Margie had a splitting headache and her costume was ruined at least for the night.

When Doctor Bates, the school physician arrived, it was 7:30 o'clock and Margie, stretched out on a couch in the girls' dressing room, was holding cold cloths on her head.

Doctor Bates' examination was quick but thorough.

"Mild concussion, I'd say. She must go to bed at once and remain there, perfectly quiet, for at least twenty-four hours."

Margie struggled to her feet and was as promptly returned to the couch by the doctor, who forced her to choke back her words.

"Sure, I understand," he said. "You've got a part in the play and you've got to go on. That's the tradition of the theater. But this isn't a theater. This is a high school play and young lady you're not going to risk serious injury to yourself by doing any such thing as attempting to appear in this play. I'm going to take you home right now."

Doctor Bates, who usually had his way, helped Margie out to his car. It was a tearful and protesting Margie, but Miss Williams joined in insisting that she go home and there was nothing else for her to do.

By the time Margie was on her way home the first rows of the gym were filling with spectators and Miss Williams, a look of desperate intent upon her face, called the cast together on the stage.

"We've got to go on for this means so much to me and to you. Try and forget, if you can, what has happened to Margie. Do everything you can to help the girl I'm going to push into Margie's role. If she stumbles on her lines or forgets them, fake until you can pick it up again."

Then she swung toward Janet.

"Can you get anything from home you can wear for the first act--something very light and pretty. You'll be able to wear the costumes intended for Margie in the other two acts."

"You mean you want me to step in and take Margie's role?" asked Janet.

"That's exactly what I mean. You've got to do it. You're the only one who knows the lines."

"But I'm afraid I'll make a terrible mess of things; I'll spoil the whole show."

"You can't, Janet, you can't." There was desperate entreaty in Miss Williams' words. "I've heard you repeating Margie's lines to yourself at rehearsal. You know them all and you know the action. Just imagine that you were originally picked for the role. You can handle it, I know."

"Come on, Janet. This is our chance. We'll be playing together tonight. I need you to steady me." It was Helen speaking, saying she needed Janet to steady her.

Janet smiled to herself. She would be the one who would need bolstering.

Miss Williams came up.

"I've found one of the boys with a car. He'll take you home and bring you back with a costume for the first act. I don't want to hold the curtain unless absolutely necessary."

"I'll make it," promised Janet.

There was no one at home and she rushed upstairs and dove into the large wardrobe in her room. She had been wondering all the way home what to select. Probably that pale green silk print. She'd only worn it once or twice, and never to anything at school.

Janet seized the dress, slipped out of the smock and everyday dress she had worn under that, and wiggled into the cool, crisp silk. Stockings and shoes were changed in a flash. Pausing just a moment before her mirror, she brushed her hair vigorously until the light caught all of its natural golden glints. Then she ran down stairs, breathless from the rush.

It was two minutes to eight, just two minutes before the curtain was scheduled to go up, when Janet reached the stage. Miss Williams was pacing nervously when she hurried on, but she stopped instantly and eyed Janet approvingly.

"Splendid, dear, splendid. We'll start on time. If you forget some of the lines, just make up a few sentences until you can recall them. The rest of the cast will help you carry along."

Helen, dark and radiant, came out of the wings.

"You need a little more color on your cheeks. You look as pale as a ghost."

"I feel pretty much like a ghost," confessed Janet as they slipped into a dressing room where Helen adeptly applied a touch of rouge, used an eyebrow pencil sparingly, and then finished the makeup with just enough lipstick to accentuate the charm of Janet's lips.

"Everybody ready?" It was Miss Williams, calling the cast together for a final checkup.

Fortunately Janet would not go on until the middle of the first act. It would give her an opportunity to regain her full composure, to get into the swing of the play, and to brush up on any lines she was afraid she might forget.

The music of the high school orchestra, which was playing in the pit out front, reached a crescendo and died away. Janet faintly heard a wave of applause for the efforts of the orchestra. Then the girl who had taken her place at the switchboard dimmed the house lights, shoved the switch that sent the electricity surging into the footlights, and the curtain started up.

There was that little breathless pause before the action of the play began. Then Helen, the first character on the stage, started her lines.

Clearly, confidently, she spoke, and Janet's fears for the play, fears for any mistakes of her own, melted away. Helen was going magnificently, perfectly at ease and seemingly living the very role of Gale Naughton.

Janet slipped into the mood of the play. It wasn't hard for she had attended every rehearsal and knew the lines of almost every character.

On the other side of the stage Miss Williams, the prompt book in her hands, was obviously pleased.

Then came a cue that awoke Janet from the pleasant glow. She was on next.

With hands that fluttered just a little she picked up a mirror on the tiny dressing table in the wings and made sure that her hair was right.

It was time for her to go on, a rollicking, bouncing sort of entrance that one would expect from gay, light-hearted Abbie Naughton, and Janet did it perfectly.

The blaze of light from the footlights s.h.i.+elded her from the audience.

She didn't need to care what they were thinking. All she needed to do was to go through her part, playing it to the utmost. Later she would know what the audience thought, but then it would be too late to matter.

Janet and Helen had a fast exchange of lines, Helen reproving Janet for her gayety when the family funds were so low. They carried that hard bit of repartee off successfully and when the conversation swung to another character, Helen whispered under her breath.

"You're grand, simply grand. Keep it up."

"Double the compliment for yourself," replied Janet, her lips barely moving yet the words were audible to Helen.

The first act was over suddenly. The curtain came down, smoothly, silently, and as it b.u.mped the floor a gathering wave of applause echoed throughout the gym. Miss Williams nodded and the curtain went up again, the members of the cast smiling and bowing.

Then came the rush for the second act. The stage must be reset and the girls, especially, had to put on new costumes. Miss Williams stopped Janet in the wings.

"Margie's costumes for the last two acts are laid out in the dressing room. I'm sure they'll fit." Then she laughed. "They'll have to, Janet.

We can't stop for a costume, can we?"

"Not after the first act," replied Janet.

But Margie's costumes did fit. It was as though they had been made for Janet.