ith Omaha the next stop and they roared on east as the sun rolled
westward.

Janet was watching the landscape below closely now for this was her home
state--a land dotted with many farms and huddles of houses that were the
villages, tied together by strips of white highway and an occasional
train that seemed to be puffing along a ladder which had been laid on
the ground.

Almost before she knew it the motors of the plane lessened their roar
and a town appeared underneath. It was Rubio, the nearest regular stop
on the transcontinental line.

The giant transport settled down easily. Janet felt the wheels touch and
she looked eagerly through the heavy glass of the window for the first
glimpse of her father and mother.

She saw them on the ramp, gazing anxiously at the plane as it wheeled up
to the concrete slab.

Janet, the first out of the plane, ran to greet them. Her mother
embraced her affectionately and her father gave her a hearty hug.

"My, but it's good to see you!" he declared. "We've missed you so much."

"And I've missed you, but I've had a grand time," replied Janet, locking
her arms in theirs.

The Thornes came up and there were greetings all around. Then Henry
Thorne and Janet's father supervised the loading of the luggage into the
Hardy sedan.

The car was crowded, but they had so much to talk about and were so
eager to say it that the inconvenience of short space mattered little.

Taking turns, Janet and Helen, rather breathlessly, told the story of
their summer in Hollywood while John Hardy whirled them smoothly and
safely along the ribbon of concrete that led from Rubio to Clarion.

They stopped at the Thorne home and unloaded most of the luggage there.

"You're coming over to dinner," Mrs. Hardy told them. "Is six-thirty all
right?"

"We'll be there," promised Mrs. Thorne, who was anxious for all of the
news of her friends in Clarion.

When they were home, Janet and her father and mother sat down in the
comfortable living room and she told them more in detail of her
adventures in the west, of the making of the western films and of their
narrow escape from death in the fire.

"We were greatly worried by the radio report," said her father, "but the
call from the Thornes reassured us."

Janet's mother spoke up.

"Are you going on to New York City?"

"Yes, mother. We'll only have a few days at home. Then Helen and I are
to go on to New York for a few days for a promotional broadcast on