my unit?"

Suddenly Janet knew that she didn't. It had been a wonderful summer,
climaxed in the picture she had just seen with herself as leading lady,
but now she was just a little homesick. Then, too, there was the trip to
Radio City.

"Not right now," she told the director. "Later, perhaps, but not now."

The general manager looked at her strangely.

"I wouldn't be surprised if it is the smartest thing you could do. If
you change your mind, let me know."

He stood up and stalked down the aisle, but Janet knew now that she
would never change her mind.

Chapter Thirteen

JANET TURNS AUTHOR

Early the next morning Janet returned to the task of writing the story
for Billy Fenstow's next picture. The story developed rapidly and she
found plenty of opportunities to provide the hard-riding action for
which Curt Newsom was famous.

She worked steadily until mid-forenoon when Helen joined her in the
garden.

"How is it going?" she asked.

"It's lots of fun, and I think I have a fairly good idea. Whether I'm
getting it across is another thing," smiled Janet. "I suspect the
regular studio writers will think it pretty much a mess when they get
their hands on it."

"I wouldn't care much what they think as long as Mr. Fenstow likes it.
After all, he's the one who will accept or reject it and the check you
get will depend on his approval."

Janet leaned back in her chair and gazed at the scudding white clouds
far overhead.

"How much do you suppose they'll pay if they accept the story?" she
mused.

"Sometimes they pay thousands of dollars," said Helen.

"But only for outstanding books or plays. I mean for little stories like
this; the kind that perhaps have an idea in them that can be developed
further by the studio staff."

"Maybe a thousand dollars," ventured Helen.

"That would be enough," said Janet, a faraway look in her eyes.

"Now just what do you mean by that?" Helen wanted to know.

"A thousand dollars would go a long ways toward guaranteeing me a
college education. Why, with what I've saved out of our salaries this
summer, I'd have nearly two thousand dollars and I could make that go a
long ways toward four years of college."

"I've saved a lot this summer, too," admitted Helen. "Dad and mother
were talking this morning. We're going back to Clarion."

Helen was silent for a moment. Then Janet spoke.

"When are you going back?"

"Soon; perhaps next week. But you and I will go on to