“I’ll bet you’re assigned to a new picture,” said Helen.
“Right, dear. I start work on the script tomorrow. The first draft is ready, but I always like to sit in on the finishing touches.”
“What’s it going to be?” asked Janet.
“The kind of picture I’ve always wanted to do, an epic of the air, a story of the air mail, but on broader, more sweeping lines than anything else ever attempted. We need one more big picture to bolster up the production schedule for next year and I’ve drawn the assignment.”
Helen’s father was as happy as a boy with a new bicycle, and he hummed to himself half the way home.
Suddenly he burst out. “I forgot all about your dresses. How did you get along with Roddy?”
“He’s grand, and we’re all fixed up. Mine is crimson velvet and Janet’s is some divine shade of blue. I have a silver cape and she has a cloth of gold cape. Oh, he planned everything for us, even telling us just how much makeup to use.”
“That’s Roddy. He’s a fine friend.”
They drove on in silence for a time before Helen’s father spoke again.
“I must be getting absent minded,” he said as they turned into the drive at the bungalow. “I ran into Billy Fenstow at the administration building at the studio. He said to send you to see him tomorrow morning. He’s going to start shooting on a new western next week.”