Helen glanced at her watch and Janet, still unused to her own, followed suit. They would be at the Grand Central airport in less than half an hour.
Helen, leaning back, cried, “We’re almost there,” and Janet nodded happily.
It seemed almost on the echo of Helen’s words, although it was actually minutes later, when the plane wheeled and settled gently down on the runway of a huge airport.
Janet, looking eagerly from the window, saw a group of cameramen standing at the gate which led to the field. There must be some celebrity on their own plane or on a ship due in soon. She scanned the passengers in their own cabin. None of them appeared unusually famous and she decided the cameramen were there to meet some other plane.
A landing stage was rolled up the moment the plane stopped and the stewardess opened the door.
“Take your time,” said Helen’s father. “We’ll all be a bit stiff after this long ride. You girls want to look your best.”
Janet stood up and smoothed out her skirt. It had remained remarkably fresh and the heavy silk shirtwaist showed only a few wrinkles. Her jacket would cover that up and she got that garment down from the rack over her head. Helen, who had worn a brown silk suit, had fared almost as well, and after a hurried glance into the mirrors in their handbags, both girls pronounced themselves ready to see what Hollywood looked like.
Helen’s father and mother were out of the plane first with the girls close behind them.
A uniformed airport employee nodded to Mr. Thorne.
“I’ve had your bags put in your car,” he said, and Janet saw the famous director hand over a bill.