Linda blushed deeply at the praise; she wished she could summon courage to tell Miss Harding that she was her favorite star, but she was too shy to utter the words. She was afraid it might sound like idle flattery, thought up on the spur of the moment.
Dot, however, came to her rescue.
“You’re Linda’s favorite actress, Miss Harding,” she announced, calmly. “She goes to see all your pictures—two or three times. Especially the one where you played a character named ‘Linda.’ Do you remember?”
“Indeed I do,” replied Miss Harding. “And I loved that part.”
The three girls sat down in a corner and actually were able to talk flying without any interruption for about ten minutes. Then someone came to claim Miss Harding, and Mr. Von Goss appeared for his protegees.
Nothing was said, during the entire reception, of the trouble Linda was in, or of the fact that another girl was actually playing her part. The director had asked the girls not to mention the fact, and they were glad to accede to his wishes.
He took them to another room, a spacious hall with a beautiful shiny floor and a marvellous orchestra, and introduced some younger men to them, so that they could enjoy the dancing. Then a sumptuous supper was served, and the party broke up before midnight.
“I never thought the reception would be over so early, Mr. Von Goss,” remarked Dot, as the director drove the girls back to their hotel in his car. “I always thought Hollywood went in for wild parties.”
The man shook his head.
“No. If anything, the stars keep earlier hours than ordinary people. Many of them have to be on location early in the morning, and their work is long and tiring. All the considerate hostesses arrange for their parties to be early affairs.”