  The next morning Janet found an interesting paragraph in one of the morning papers, which had been written by a reporter who had attended the screening of “Broad Valley.” “One of the pleasant surprises about this latest Billy Fenstow western was the work of Helen Thorne and Janet Hardy, two newcomers. Miss Thorne is the daughter of the famous director and Miss Hardy is a friend of hers from the middle west. Although playing minor rÔles, both girls handled their parts well with Miss Hardy providing several of the best comedy touches seen in a western by this reviewer in some months. It is reported that both will be in the next western which the prolific Fenstow will produce.” Janet read the brief comment three times, then clipped it out of the paper, wrote a brief note home, and sent the clipping to her folks. Later in the day they received their final vouchers from the studio for work on “Broad Valley.” Altogether the two weeks work on the picture had netted them $100 apiece, more money than either of them had ever earned in a similar length of time. “No wonder girls come to Hollywood,” said Helen as she looked at the check. “Yes, but remember that we’re lucky. We didn’t have to break down any barriers; we didn’t have to make introductions. The way was all smoothed out for us. Look at those poor kids over at the casting office.” Helen turned in the direction Janet pointed. Half a hundred young men and women were waiting patiently in a line before the window of the casting office. Most of them were rejected; only one or two were allowed inside. “That’s what happens to the average seeker of fame in the films,” said Janet. “So many, with some beauty and high hopes, come out here expecting to make a success, and then almost starve. Of course they get a bit once in a while, but it’s hardly enough to buy their food much less their clothes and all of the other necessary things.” “You’re right, of course,” admitted Helen. “If it hadn’t been for Dad we’d never have had a look-in.” They were having lunch that noon at the studio restaurant with Helen’s father. They were waiting when he arrived. Accompanying him was a stranger. “Girls, I want you to meet Mr. Rexler, general manager of the company.” The general manager, tall, thin and exceedingly nervous, greeted them cordially, then seemed to forget that they even existed for he talked business from the moment they reached their table until lunch was over. But in spite of that Janet and Helen enjoyed the hour. Some of the most famous stars on the Ace lot were lunching there that noon and Janet and Helen enjoyed watching them come in. The general manager, a man of quick thought and action, suddenly turned toward them. “I saw ‘Broad Valley’ the other night. Congratulations on a nice bit of work.” The hour passed quickly, with Helen’s father and the general manager continuing their conference in the executive’s private office in the administration building. “Dad and Rexler are having trouble over the story for the new air picture,” said Helen. “I heard him talking with mother just last night. They can’t agree on the final version. Dad was going over it last night.” “I’d like to read it,” said Janet. “I’ll get it for you if he brings it home tonight.” That night Janet had her chance to scan the script of Henry Thorne’s next picture. The tentative title was “Kings of the Air.” The action was fast and stirring, the panorama of the story covering the entire transcontinental route of one air mail system and Janet could understand that there was material here for a really great picture. But there was something lacking—a crashing climax that would make the spectators grip their seats. Henry Thorne, watching Janet as she laid the script aside, spoke quietly. “If you can suggest a suitable climax you can just about name your own ticket on our lot,” he said. “How about a race for a contract?” suggested Helen. “Too old; it’s worn out.” “Then why not have the plane going through with valuable papers which are needed for say,” Janet paused, “a naval conference at Washington, on the outcome of which may hinge the fate of the world.” Henry Thorne started to reject the idea, but halted. “Where did you get that idea?” “Something I read in a paper several months ago suggested it,” admitted Janet. “Navy planes were racing across country with a naval envoy and they got held up somewhere in Wyoming on account of bad weather. You could have your mail plane take over there after the navy ship was grounded.” “That would give the navy a black eye.” “Some other solution could be worked out then,” said Janet. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. It would require some rewriting of the script, but we’ve got to have a terrific air race against time and the elements in this thing for a conclusion. I’ll talk it over with Rexler in the morning.” Then Helen’s father changed his mind. “No, I’ll talk it over with him tonight if he’s home.” He phoned the general manager’s home, found Rexler there, and informed him he was coming over. “We’ll see what he thinks of your suggestion,” he flung at Janet as he hurried out the door. “Shall we wait up and learn the outcome of the conference?” asked Helen. “Just think if they should decide to work out a climax along the line you suggested.” “I’m all for waiting up, but I’m afraid my suggestion is pretty weak,” said Janet. At eleven o’clock Mrs. Thorne decided to retire and urged the girls to do likewise, but they insisted upon awaiting the return of Helen’s father. Midnight passed and finally the clock struck one A. M. “I’m too sleepy to stay up any longer,” admitted Helen. “Oh, wait half an hour more,” urged Janet, and Helen agreed. It was 1:20 when Director Thorne reached home. There were hollows under his eyes and he looked unusually tired, but in his eyes burned a spirit of elation that fatigue could not beat down. Mrs. Thorne, in a dressing gown, joined them. “What’s the decision?” asked Helen. “We’re going to work out the climax along the line suggested by Janet,” replied her father. “Rexler called two of the writers down and they’re working right on through the night on a new treatment for the whole script. It must be done tomorrow noon. We’re to start shooting next week. It means another bouquet for you, Janet.” Janet blushed. “It was just luck.” “No, it wasn’t luck. It was good, clear thinking and the ability to recall a worthwhile incident. Incidentally, both of you are going into the cast of ‘Kings of the Air’.” “But, Dad, you can’t mean that!” exclaimed Helen. “I mean just that,” retorted her father, “and I wasn’t the one who suggested it. Rexler insists that you be included. It’s his way of trying to repay Janet for her suggestion.” “Then that means we’ll get another chance in a picture,” said Janet, and she felt her heart beating like mad. “Indeed it does and you’ll be in the biggest feature the Ace company is producing this year,” Helen’s father assured them. |
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