  After a leisurely dinner that evening they enjoyed a quiet half hour beside the pool. “There’s plenty of time; let’s take a swim. The trunks arrived this afternoon and mother’s found our suits,” said Helen, and Janet seconded the idea at once. It had been a hectic day and the water would relax them. They had trim one-piece suits, Janet’s of cool green and Helen’s a sharp blue. For twenty minutes they splashed in the water or relaxed and floated just as the mood struck them. Finally Mrs. Thorne called. “It’s less than an hour before we must start for the premiere,” she said. Janet and Helen climbed out of the pool, rubbed themselves briskly with heavy towels, and hastened into their bedroom. Large boxes were at the foot of each bed and from them they drew the gowns which Roddy had created. Dressing that night was one of the thrills Janet would never forget. The costume was complete for just the right undergarments had been sent by the designer. The hose were the sheerest gold, with gold slippers to match, while Helen’s accessories were silver. “How do you feel?” asked Helen. “Something like a fairy princess and it’s hard to make myself believe that this is all real.” “Then let’s enjoy every minute of it. We may wake up and find that it is all just a dream.” Janet looked at herself in the mirror. She was sheathed in blue silk, ankle length, with just enough of a slit in one side to show her dainty, silken ankles. Helen helped her tie a blue ribbon around her hair and watched while Janet applied rouge judiciously. “I imagine the lights will be bright as we go into the theater,” said Helen, “so remember what Roddy said about the color.” In turn Janet helped Helen, fastening the crimson velvet dress. Like her own, it was a sheath of material with Helen encased inside. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to sit down. Dad may have to hire a truck and drive us to the theater in it. I’d hate to have this gown all mussed.” “Mine looks awfully tight, but it feels very comfortable,” confessed Janet. “Oh, I feel grand—simply grand.” “About ready?” called Helen’s father. They caught up their capes and threw them around their shoulders with just the right touch of abandon. Even the gloves had been provided in the boxes sent by Roddy. Mr. and Mrs. Thorne were waiting for them in the living room, Helen’s mother looking very beautiful in a brown velvet gown while her father was distinguished in his dinner jacket. Henry Thorne caught his breath as he looked at the girls in Roddy’s gowns. “I knew Roddy was a wonder worker, but I didn’t know he could perform miracles. I’d hardly know you if I saw you any place else.” “That’s a real compliment, Dad,” smiled Helen. “Here’s something I thought you’d like to see.” He handed a copy of one of the evening papers to them. On the front page was one of the pictures taken at the airport with Janet and Helen between Mr. and Mrs. Thorne. “Famous Director Brings Daughter and Friend West to start Their Careers in Movies,” was the caption over the picture. Underneath the story said: “Moviedom will get its first chance to see Henry Thorne’s daughter, Helen, and her companion, Janet Hardy, tonight at the premiere at the Queen’s Court. Both girls are slated for movie careers if their screen tests turn out all right. Their initial rÔles will probably be in a new western which Bill Fenstow is casting now and plans to put into production next week.” “We look pretty much ‘midwesternish’ in that picture,” observed Helen. “What if you do? There are too many Hollywood types. What we need in pictures is fresh faces on girls who have ability. Come on now, we’ve got to hurry or we’ll be late.” The big sedan was in the drive and Helen’s father had summoned a driver he employed when he needed a chauffeur to drive them that evening. They turned out of the side street on which they lived into a main boulevard and whirled rapidly toward the Queen’s Court. Janet, attending a movie premiere for the first time, felt her heart quicken as she saw the blaze of light which marked the front of the theater. The whistle of a traffic officer slowed them down and the driver was forced to produce a card before they were allowed to go past the police lines. The sidewalks were lined with people, anxious for a glimpse at some Hollywood notable. The car fell into line behind several others and Janet caught her first glimpse of the theater. It was magnificent white marble, with the entrance an open court and down this court the honored guests had to walk, running the gamut of the stares of hundreds who backed the police lines. Their car pulled up under a canopy. “Here we are, girls. Take your time and enjoy it. Don’t be stiff. It’s just like going to the Idle Hour back in Clarion,” said Helen’s father. He stepped out first, assisted Mrs. Thorne and then turned to the girls. Janet heard the master of ceremonies, standing at the microphone nearby, announce, “Henry Thorne, most famous of the directors for Ace productions, Mrs. Thorne, their daughter, Helen, and Janet Hardy.” Janet stepped out into the glare of the floodlights. For just a moment a terrific wave of stage fright gripped her. Then she saw smiling, friendly faces, and she smiled back. Flashlights boomed as the photographers worked. The announcer beckoned to Henry Thorne. “Just a word, Mr. Thorne.” But the director shook his head. “This is the girls’ night,” he smiled, shoving Helen toward the microphone. “All I can say,” gasped Helen, “is that I’m tremendously happy to be here.” “Thank you,” said the announcer. “And now, Miss Hardy, please.” “I like all of the smiles,” said Janet simply, and a burst of applause came back from the crowd. “Well done,” whispered Henry Thorne and they started down the long walk past the sea of faces. Janet felt supremely confident, perhaps it was just knowing that her gown and accessories were perfection, and more than one compliment on her costume came from the packed masses. In the grand foyer there were film stars on every hand, some of them stopping for a moment to talk, and as Helen’s father introduced the girls to all of these, Janet thought she detected several frankly unfriendly stares from some of the actresses, who seemed to be little if any older than they were. Then the picture started. Actually Janet saw very little of it. She was too busy drinking in the beauty of the theater and straining to catch glimpses of stars who had arrived late. When they left the theater, various groups congregated in the foyer for brief visits and Janet saw a tubby little man, looking ill at ease in his dinner suit and mopping his bald head, struggling to reach them. He kept his eyes quite frankly on Janet and Helen as he neared them, but there was nothing offensive in his stare. He grabbed Henry Thorne’s arm. “Say, Henry, are these the girls?” he demanded. “Hello, Billy. Sure. I want you to meet my daughter, Helen, and Janet Hardy.” “Girls,” he explained, “you want to be nice to this scamp. He’s in charge of the western unit and it will be his decision on whether you get into the cast. In other words, meet Billy Fenstow.” “None other and none such,” grinned the affable little director. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a couple of stars in tow?” he chided Helen’s father. “Are you willing to take a chance on them and promise them parts right now?” The creator of western pictures looked a little surprised. “Well maybe not for sure. Tell you what. I’m going home and make some changes in my script. I’ll build up some stronger parts for the girls. Can they act?” “Billy, I don’t know. I saw them one night when I thought they could, but you’ll have to find out for yourself. Now I’m going to take them home and see that they get some sleep or they won’t be able to act.” “I’m glad I met you tonight,” said Billy earnestly. “See you in the morning,” as Helen and Janet moved toward the car. He watched them through shrewd eyes, and if Janet could have turned around she would have noticed that Billy Fenstow was looking at her in particular. “I think she’ll do,” whispered the little director. “I think she’s got just what I want for the new pix. Gosh, I wish this was morning.” He jammed on his soft, black hat and went out in search of a taxi. |
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