Janet, watching the play in rehearsal each night, came to know the lines of almost everyone in the cast for the lighting of the show was in her charge. It was up to her to get just the right amount of amber in the afternoon scene and just the right amount of blue to simulate moonlight for the evening scene from the rather antiquated banks of lights on each side of the stage.
Brief letters and a telegram or two had come from Helen’s father, assuring her that he would arrive in ample time for the presentation of “The Chinese Image.” Janet’s father had found a small plot at the rear of their own large lot which yielded an ample supply of worms at almost every spadeful and Indian creek, two miles north of Clarion, was said to abound with bullheads that spring.
On Wednesday night, after a long and tiring rehearsal, Janet and Helen walked home through the soft moonlight of the late May evening.
“I haven’t heard from Dad today. He was going to wire what train he would arrive on. It looks like he won’t be in until the morning of the play.”
“That will be plenty of time. He can stay on longer after the play’s over,” said Janet.
“It won’t be plenty of time if he has to do any more retakes on his last picture. His letters have sounded awfully tired.”
“Let’s walk on down to Whet’s for an ice cream soda. The walk will do both of us good and the soda will be refreshing,” said Janet.
Helen agreed and they walked leisurely, breathing deeply of the flower-scented air; for it was a perfect evening. From far away came the rumble of heavy trucks on a through street, but on their own there was an air of peace and contentment.
“Dad will like this when he finally gets here. He always seems to throw off his cares when he’s back home.”
“Which is why he anticipates coming home so much,” added Janet.