_Chapter XV_ HOLLYWOOD BOUND
Janet remained awake for some time that night, wondering what thesignificance of Henry Thorne's decision to have her and Helen learn toride, and ride well, could be. Finally she gave it up as a bad job,realizing that he would tell them in his own good time.
Graduation week passed in a mixed whirl of events, with the junior-seniorbanquet and actual graduation exercises interspersed between the longhours passed at Hill and Dale farm where Janet and Helen underwent anintensive series of lessons on horsemanship. Both girls were agile andanxious to learn, and both soon came to enjoy the riding thoroughly.Their instructor, an older man, found them eager pupils and Helen'sfather encouraged them at each lesson, for he went with them on everytrip to the farm.
Like the senior class play, the graduation exercises were held in thegymnasium and Helen stopped for Janet. They were going on ahead of theirparents for they had to be at school half an hour before the start of theprogram.
"I hope I don't smell like a stable," smiled Helen, radiant in her crisp,white organdie dress. "We've been at the farm so much I almost say'Giddap' every time I start to do anything."
"I feel almost the same way. One good thing, though, I can sit downcomfortably now and I couldn't after the first two days."
When they came down from Janet's room, Helen's father and mother werethere.
"We're early, but I want to talk to your folks," Henry Thorne told Janet."You youngsters run along and we'll be there in plenty of time."
When they were on their way to school, Helen spoke.
"Dad's been acting so mysteriously the last two days and mother seems tobe unusually happy about something. This morning Dad put in a call forHollywood, but he wouldn't talk from home; went down to a pay station. Iasked mother what was up, but she said not for me to worry as long as shewasn't."
"Perhaps he isn't going back west," suggested Janet.
"You don't know Dad. I heard him mumbling just this afternoon about somekind of a story idea. You know he usually sits in on the final draftingof all of the stories he produces. I expect that as soon as graduation isover he'll start back."
"Has he said anything more about taking you with him?"
"Not a word lately and that's what I'm puzzled about. Neither Dad normother have talked about what I'm to do next fall. You know I'd like togo to school with you."
"And I'd like to have you, Helen. I'll be lost if we aren't able to hitit off together. We've had such good times through high school andespecially this last year."
The final meeting of the seniors, as a class, was held in the assembly,the girls in their snow-white dresses and the boys all in their darksuits made a pleasing contrast. Some of them were visibly nervous whileothers remained unusually calm. To some it was a momentous event whileothers took it as the last step in a tiresome school career.
Margie Blake, still white and feeling none too strong, was near the doorwhen Janet and Helen entered.
Janet started to speak, but Margie deliberately turned her back, andJanet, shocked and hurt, looked at her sharply.
"Now why do you suppose she did that?" she asked Helen.
"I wasn't going to tell you, but you might as well know," said Helen."Margie is hinting around that she suspects you had something to do withthe injury she suffered."
"You mean that I contrived to have that piece of scenery fall on her justso I could get her part in the play?"
"That's exactly what Margie's hinting. Of course she isn't saying thatopenly, but she doesn't give you much room to guess what she means."
"Then I'm going to have a word with Margie right now. That's one thing Iwon't stand for." Janet's face was flushed and she was furiously angrywhen she confronted Margie.
Margie's eyes widened and Helen thought she saw her hands tremble just alittle. Perhaps she surmised that Janet was on the warpath and that shewas the cause of it.
"Margie, I've been told that you are insinuating I was responsible forthe accident which forced you out of the play and gave me your place. Isthat so?"
Janet's words were low enough so that only Margie and Helen could hear,but there was a compelling force in them that would not be denied.
"Why, no, that's not so. I never said you caused the accident." Margiestammered and flushed hotly.
"You've no right to accuse me of this thing," she added defiantly.
"I've a very good right if you are dropping hints about me and theaccident the night of the play. If you've been doing that all I've got tosay is that you're smaller than I ever dreamed you could be. You'resimply below contempt."
Janet whirled and left Margie with tears in her eyes. Helen paused amoment for Margie seemed about to speak.
"I'm sorry about what I've said," Margie managed to say. "I guess I was alittle indiscreet, but you tell Janet I won't say anything else."
"I'll tell her and I think you'll be a very wise girl if you decide tolet the whole thing drop," advised Helen, turning to rejoin Janet, whohad gone to the other side of the room.
The principal was giving his final words of instruction.
"As your names are called for the presentation of diplomas, each of youwill come from your places to the platform, receive a tube of paper, andreturn. After the exercises are over come to me in this room and I willpresent your real diplomas. If you can not come here after the close ofthe exercises, call at my office tomorrow."
He paused a moment, then added, "and I should like to say that I amextremely proud of this class. I think it is the finest to graduate fromClarion High in the eight years I have been principal."
"Which," whispered Helen, "is quite a compliment, if you ask me. It's thefirst he ever paid this class."
"He sort of made up for the lack before by these last words," smiledJanet.
Again they went onto the stage of the gymnasium, but this time not asactors and actresses in a play of make believe, but in the very seriousbusiness of graduating from high school.
The gymnasium was filled with parents and friends of the seniors. The airwas close, portending the storm that was to break later. Fortunately theprogram was simple, the address by the superintendent of schools lastingonly fifteen minutes. Then the names were called and one by one they wentforward and when they came back their high school days were over.
It had been grand, being in school, decided Janet, and now she felt justa little scared. Life was ahead and life was so vast and uncomprehendingand she knew it could be cold and cruel and merciless.
They bowed their heads at the benediction, there was a final swell ofmusic from the orchestra and the lights in the gymnasium glared. It wasover and Janet, in that moment, felt years older. She was a high schoolgirl no longer....
Parents and friends of the graduates crowded around them and Janet sawher father beckoning.
"Get your diplomas," he called. "We'll meet you outside."
Janet and Helen went up to the assembly where they turned in the paperscrolls which had been presented to them at the program. In return theyreceived their real diplomas.
Outside they found their parents.
"We were tremendously proud of both of you," said Janet's mother. "Youwere by far the prettiest girls on the stage."
"I'll cast my vote in support of that statement," put in Helen's father,"and that's from someone who should know a pretty girl when he sees one."
They had planned a light supper at Thorne's and all of them enjoyed thewalk home for the air was close. Dark banks of clouds, illuminated oncein a while by flashes of lightning, were mounting higher and higher inthe west.
"Looks like we'll get a real one tonight," said Janet's father, and theothers agreed.
"Do you realize that the folks haven't given us anything for graduation?"whispered Helen.
"Well, not exactly any concrete gift just now, but they've given me a lotof character and a sense of realization of the finer and honest things oflife."
"Oh, silly, of co
urse I realize that, but Dad has been so mysterioustoday I know something is in the wind."
When they reached Helen's home they sat down to an informal supper in thedining room.
On two plates were envelopes, one marked "Janet" and the other "Helen."Helen's father was puffing rather furiously at his pipe as he watched thegirls, their fingers clumsy from their haste, rip open the envelopes.
Long green slips of paper, looking very much like railroad tickets, cameout of the envelopes. Helen was the first to read hers.
"Why, Dad," she cried. "It's a round trip ticket by airplane to LosAngeles."
"So is mine," gasped Janet. "What does this mean?"
Her father chuckling, nodded toward Henry Thorne.
"I'd say that it meant a round trip to Los Angeles. Also, if you'll dig alittle further into your envelopes, you'll find reservations for thewestbound plane out of Rubio just one week from tonight."
"But Dad, we didn't know anything about this," gasped Helen.
"Of course not. It wouldn't have been a surprise," chuckled her father.
"Seriously though," he added, "I liked your performances in the highschool play and I've talked it all over with Janet's folks and withmother here. You're going back to Hollywood to spend the summer with meand this morning I contracted the production unit of our company whichmakes cowboy films and both of you are to have a chance in the cast ofthat picture. You're Hollywood bound, girls."