Janet Hardy in Hollywood Part 21

"Pete isn't satisfied, but I guess he won't print all of the rumors,"

reported Janet as she hung up the telephone.

"You can just bet that Cora and Margie ran up to the _Times_ office and filled Pete full of hot air," said Helen. "I thought maybe after we were out of high school things would be different. I'd like to be friendly with them for they can be delightful when they want to be, but both of them are still carrying a chip on their shoulders."

There was only one more afternoon of fis.h.i.+ng and loafing along the banks of the creek and John Hardy went with Janet, Helen and Henry Thorne on the outing. Their luck was with them again and they hooked a fine mess of catfish and fried them over an open fire. Through the late afternoon Janet and Helen talked incessantly of their hopes and plans while at a distance their fathers dozed along the creek bank.

It was dusk before they started home, walking slowly through the twilight.

"This is the last night at home," Janet's father reminded her. "Tomorrow night we go to Rubio and you take the west-bound plane for Hollywood."

"It hardly seems possible, but it must be so," said Janet. "Everything is like a dream."

"It will be until you actually arrive and start work in the studio."

Janet's father was silent for several minutes. When he spoke again his voice was so low that it could not be overheard by Helen and her father, who were walking a short distance ahead.

"I'm not expecting you to turn into a motion picture actress, but I want you to do your best out there. The change will be a fine vacation and when you're actually on the lot working before the cameras, give it everything you've got. That will add to the pleasure you'll have in later years when you look back on this summer."

"I'll do it, Dad. I'll do the best possible job."

"Sure, I know you will. It's going to be lonesome here," he added, "but the break had to come sooner or later."

"But I'm not going away for good, Dad. Only for the summer."

"Of course. You'll be home in the fall and we'll make plans for school then. Have you thought anything more about the university?"

"Too bad I wasn't a boy, Dad, then I could have tried for football there." There was just a note of seriousness in Janet's voice for her father was an All-American halfback at Corn Belt U. and she knew he had always secretly been a little disappointed when she proved to be a girl, for there was no chance of a girl becoming an All-American halfback.

"Football isn't everything," replied her father. "I'm satisfied," and he said it with a conviction that brought joy to Janet's heart.

Through the evening hours Janet and her mother checked over the last minute packing. Trunks had been sent ahead by express and only the essentials were going to be carried in the bags they would take on the plane.

Janet's luggage was attractive, but not expensive, for her father had never believed in undue waste of money.

That night Janet found it difficult to get to sleep. Tomorrow night they would be winging westward at three miles or more a minute and by the noon of the second day would be landing at the Grand Central airport at Glendale, from where they could motor over to Hollywood.

Finally sleep came and Janet dropped into the dreamless slumber of youth.

It was mid-morning when she finally awakened as her mother shook her shoulders.

"Time to get up," said Mrs. Hardy, "for there's much to be done today before you start for Hollywood."

Janet leaped out of bed for in spite of all of the preparations they had been making through the last week there were a hundred and one small things that remained to be done.

The hours fairly melted away. She made three or four trips down town on hurried errands and as many over to Helen's, where the same hurry and bustle prevailed.

At dinner time her mother made her slow down.

"Everything's done," she announced. "Of course you may have forgotten one or two things, but they aren't important, and they can be sent on later.

Now you take it easy and enjoy dinner for this is the last one you'll have with your father and me for some weeks. My Janet, but we're proud of you," she added, with a happy smile.

"I'm just afraid I won't make good; that's the only thing that scares me," confessed the usually self-reliant Janet. "Everything out there is going to be so strange and as actresses, I'm fearful that Helen and I will be about the worst that ever struck Hollywood."

"Impossible," smiled her mother encouragingly, and after Janet mentally reviewed some of the pictures she had seen, she decided that quite likely her mother was right.

Her father arrived home promptly and they pa.s.sed more than an hour at a leisurely dinner, visiting about a score of different incidents, none of them important in themselves, but all of them important in that they kept them around the dinner table, prolonging their last dinner hour.

Janet's father finally looked at his watch.

"You'd better dress, dear. The westbound plane leaves Rubio at eleven o'clock and there's no reason to rush the trip over there."

He reached into his coat pocket and drew out a small case which he handed to Janet.

"Here's a little present mother and I want you to have."

Janet opened the case with hands that shook visibly. Inside was a tiny wrist watch with a thin, silver chain to go around her wrist. It was a beautiful creation of watchmaker's skill and Janet looked up with just a trace of a tear in her eyes.

"It's wonderful, but you shouldn't have done this after giving me the trip to Hollywood."

"You'll have to have something to keep time by so you can get to the studio on time. Maybe I should have gotten you an alarm clock," grinned her father.

"I packed one in her trunk," smiled Mrs. Hardy. "Now hike and get into your things."

Janet, tremendously happy and so thrilled she felt she was walking on air, hurried up to her room. After a quick bath, tapered off with a cool shower, she started dressing. Her outfit was new from the silken underthings to the sensible but attractive summer linen suit. The skirt, snug and well tailored, fitted beautifully and a small but bright blue tie added a note of color to her heavy, white silk s.h.i.+rtwaist.

The night air was warm and Janet decided to carry her coat. There was no use in putting it on and getting it mussed until necessary.

Standing in front of her dressing table, Janet looked around her room and a queer little lump caught in her throat. It was such a pleasant room; she would miss it, she knew, in the months to come.

Then her father called and she caught up the small traveling bag she was to carry on the plane, snapped out the light, and hurried down stairs.

"Step right along," her father warned, and they hastened into the car and rolled around in front of the Thorne home down the block.

Henry Thorne, pacing up and down the porch, called to his wife and Helen, who appeared almost immediately. Both carried small overnight cases. As they came down the walk to the street, Henry Thorne turned off the lights in the house, locked the door, and followed them.

Now that the time of departure was near there seemed little to say. They had talked of it for so many hours it hardly seemed possible that they were on their way.

John Hardy sent his big car over the road at a smooth, effortless pace.

The lights of Clarion dropped behind and they sped through the open country where there were only the occasional lights from farmhouses to mark the blackness of the night. Later there would be a moon.

Tonight they were in the heart of the mid-west and to Janet it was almost incredible that by noon tomorrow they would be in the city made famous by the movies.

When they reached the airport at Rubio several hundred cars were parked near the entrance for the coming and going of the night planes always brought out a crowd if they arrived before midnight.

Henry Thorne, who had their tickets, took them into the office to have them validated. When he returned he announced that the plane would arrive in 25 minutes.

"There's a good tail wind up high tonight and they're stepping right along," he explained.

A field attendant took their bags and stowed them on a small luggage cart.