Janet Hardy in Hollywood

by John Henry Goldfrap

  _Chapter XIV_ JUST FISHING

  Henry Thorne's words echoed in Janet's ears as the girls changed theircostumes in the dressing room. Of course he must have been saying itlightly, paying them a pleasant compliment for their work. She forcedherself to dismiss it from serious consideration.

  They changed quickly, hung up their costumes, and hurried out to jointheir parents for Henry Thorne was entertaining at dinner down town.

  "What was the idea of telling us you were in charge of lighting when youactually played the second lead?" Janet's mother asked after they hadleft the gym and were rolling down town in the car.

  "But mother, I told the truth. I was in charge of lighting until abouttwenty minutes before the curtain went up. Then one of the drops brokeaway and fell on Margie. She suffered a minor concussion and it was up tosomeone to step in and take the part or the show would have flopped rightthen and there before the curtain went up."

  "You mean you stepped in cold and handled the second lead?" asked HenryThorne, turning around in the front seat to gaze incredulously at Janet.

  "But it wasn't hard. You see I tried out for that role and then Iattended every rehearsal. Of course I sort of lived the character I triedout for. I missed some of the lines tonight, but the others knew I mightand they covered up for me."

  "Well, I'll be darned. I thought you had been rehearsing it from thefirst and had told us you were on lights just to surprise us," said thefamous director. "Anyway, you did a swell job. Maybe I will take you backto the coast with me."

  "Now Henry," protested his wife, "don't start saying things you don'tmean. You'll get the girls all excited and then you'll have to rush awayto start work on another picture and you'll forget all about yourpromises to them."

  "Probably you're right mother, but they're smart, good looking girls,even if one of them is my daughter, and heavens knows we could use somereally smart, level-headed girls in one of my companies."

  Janet's father wheeled the car in to the curb in front of the restaurantwhere they were to have dinner and in the bustle of getting out of thecar conversation switched to another topic, but Henry Thorne's wordspersisted in sticking in Janet's mind.

  Henry Thorne had planned and ordered the supper himself. It was a man'smeal and Janet and Helen, now tremendously hungry after the strain of theplay, enjoyed it to the utmost.

  First there was chilled tomato juice and in the center of the table aheaping platter of celery, olives and pickled onions that they ate withrelish through all of the courses of the dinner.

  Then came great sizzling steaks, thick and almost swimming in their ownjuice, french fried potatoes, a liberal head lettuce salad, smallbuttered peas, hot rolls and jam. And after that there was open-facecherry pie and coffee for those who cared for it.

  "So this is your idea of a meal, Henry?" asked his wife, surveying thewelter of dishes on the table.

  "Well, perhaps not every day and every meal, but once in a while I'd sayyes. This is my idea of a meal."

  "I think it's been grand," spoke up Janet's mother, "especially since Ididn't have to do any work toward it."

  "That does make a difference," conceded Mrs. Thorne, "but I'd hate tothink of Henry's waistline if he had a meal like this every day."

  Conversation turned to neighborhood issues and talk of the town, forHenry Thorne maintained a tremendously active interest in the affairs ofhis home city.

  When they finally started home, it was well after one o'clock, butroutine school days for Janet and Helen were at an end. Exams were overand there was only the junior-senior banquet and then commencement.

  Janet slept late the next morning and it was after ten o'clock when hermother finally awakened her.

  "Helen and her father just phoned they are coming over. I thought youmight like to go with them. After they get some worms out of the backyard they're going fishing. I'll put up a lunch."

  Janet hurried into her clothes and met Helen and her father as theyarrived. Henry Thorne was armed with an ancient cane fishpole, had on avenerable straw hat, cracked but comfortable shoes, old overalls and ablue shirt.

  "I think he's thoroughly disreputable looking," said Helen, laughing ather father.

  "Granted, my dear, but I'm most thoroughly comfortable, which is the mainthing. I wouldn't trade this old fishing outfit for the best suit ofclothes in the world."

  Janet showed them a corner of the back lot that promised to be productiveof worms, and then went in the house for her own breakfast. She ate onthe kitchen table while her mother packed a basket of lunch to be takenby the anglers.

  It was a grand morning for a fishing expedition and especially if thosegoing fishing really didn't care whether they caught any fish or not.Just before they left Janet's father arrived and hastily changed into oldclothes.

  "Want to go to the creek in the car?" asked John Hardy.

  "Not on your life. We're walking, both ways," grinned Henry Thorne, andthe men, the cane poles over their shoulders, started for the creek.Helen carried the can of worms and Janet took the lunch basket.

  Indian creek was a pleasant stream, meandering through the rolling hillsnorth of Clarion. Its waters were clear, alternating in quiet pools andswift little riffles over its gravel bed.

  The air was mild and there was scarcely a cloud in the sky. They went upthe creek for more than a mile before Henry Thorne found a pool thatlooked like it might have a few bullheads. The foliage overhead was thickand the water here looked almost turgid, far different from the clearstream which danced along its bed farther down.

  The men baited their hooks and Janet and Helen sat down to watch thefishermen.

  Helen's father got the first bite, but he failed to land his fish. Afterthat there was a long interval when the fishermen failed to talk and thefish failed to bite. Then the bullheads all seemed hungry and Janet'sfather was the first to land one, but Henry Thorne was right behind himwith a larger catch.

  "Cut a willow stick for a stringer," said Helen's father, tossing a knifeto her, and Helen, knowing exactly what was needed, found a forked willowand trimmed it down.

  In less than an hour they had eleven bullheads on the willow stick.

  "That's plenty," decided Janet's father. "There's no use spoiling the funby taking more than we need. Shall we have them for supper tonight at myplace?"

  "Nothing doing. We'll have them right here. Remember when we were kidsand used to clean them along the creek, put them on a stick, and try andcook them over a fire?"

  Janet's father nodded.

  "That's what we're going to do right now. We'll clean the fish while thegirls get some dry sticks and build a fire."

  Thus they had their noon meal, bullheads off the spit, crisp and hot,with just a sprinkle of salt on them, sandwiches and fruit from thebasket, and cool, sweet water from a nearby spring.

  Henry Thorne, his appetite appeased, his mind and body relaxed, stretchedout on the grass and looked meditatively into the creek.

  "What a life this would be--no strain, no thoughts of tomorrow, notemperamental stars to worry about, no stories to doctor, no budget towatch."

  "But after what you've had this would tire in a few weeks. Why, you'rethinking about getting back into the harness right now," said Janet'sfather.

  Henry Thorne flushed guiltily.

  "Caught that time," he admitted. "Sure I was thinking about getting backon the job. I'm too much of a work horse, I guess."

  "But you'll stay until after graduation, won't you?" asked Helenanxiously.

  "That's one thing you needn't worry about," promised her father. "I'mthinking now of what's going to be best for you after high school daysare over; whether you and mother will prefer to stay here in Clarion orwould like to come west with me. You're pretty much of a young woman now,Helen, and from the play last night, quite a capable little actress."

  "Not much of an actress, I'm afraid, Dad, but I did want to be in theclass play because you were coming home and
I wanted you to be proud ofme."

  "I was very proud of you, dear. Just how proud you'll never know, andI've been trying to think of something I could do that would show youjust how pleased I was over the work you and Janet did in the classplay."

  They were silent for a time, all of them enjoying the quiet charm of theafternoon. Henry Thorne puffed slowly on a venerable pipe while Janet'sfather dozed, his hat pulled down to shield his eyes from the sun. Theembers of their fire turned black and then grey as they cooled.

  Janet thoroughly enjoyed relaxing on the creek bank. School days werealmost over and she couldn't help wondering what the summer and thecoming year would hold in store for her. Of course there would be collegein the fall, but just where had not been determined. It was generallyunderstood at home, though, that she would be allowed to make her ownchoice providing it was anywhere near within reason.

  Janet knew that Helen's plans were very uncertain. Her friend wasn't evensure that they would continue to make their home in Clarion.

  Just then Henry Thorne knocked the ashes out of his pipe and squinted atthe sun.

  "Better be starting home," he said. He picked up a small stick and tossedit at Janet's father, who awoke with a start.

  "Come on sleepy-head. Time to go."

  Janet finished packing the few utensils that went back into the lunchbasket while the men wound up the lines on their fishpoles.

  They started home, walking leisurely in the warm afternoon, the menleading the way.

  Half a mile down the creek they came upon a farm boy, riding bareback.The horse was a beautiful, spirited animal, and the lad rode with amazinggrace. They paused for several minutes to watch the horse and rider untilthey finally disappeared over a nearby hill.

  "Can either of you girls ride?" Henry Thorne asked the question almostsharply.

  "A little, but not much nor very well," confessed Janet.

  "I belong in the same class," added Helen.

  "Is there any place in town where we can find good horses and a goodinstructor?" Helen's father shot the question at John Hardy.

  "Hill and Dale farm keeps a fine string of horses. I'm sure I couldarrange for instruction there."

  "I'll go with you this evening and we'll see what can be done. I want thegirls to become proficient at riding as soon as possible."

  "But what's the idea?" asked Helen.

  "Just another quirk of mine," smiled her father.

  As soon as they reached home Henry Thorne urged Janet's father toaccompany him to see about riding lessons for the girls and just beforedinner returned.

  "Your first lesson will be at eight o'clock to-morrow morning," heannounced. "Look up some old duds that won't be hurt if you fall off."

  "But how about the girls?" demanded his wife.

  "They'll have to take a chance on that," he smiled.