The director mopped his brow again and grinned.
“Just as soon as I can hash together a good enough story. Two weeks, maybe three, or it might even be a month. Why?”
“We’re not certain what we want to do,” explained Helen. “You see, college starts next month.”
“My heavens,” exclaimed the director. “What under the sun do you want to go to college for? You’re smart enough right now.”
“That’s just it; we aren’t,” replied Janet. “And we’re terribly young, if the truth were known.”
Billy Fenstow looked at them critically.
“Yep, you’re young enough,” he conceded, “but what’s that got to do with it?”
“Well, we’re nothing sensational as actresses,” replied Janet, “and neither one of us would want to go along playing minor rôles for years. If we ever hope to do more than that we’ve got to have more of a background in education and college seems to be the easiest and surest way to attain that.”
Billy Fenstow nodded in agreement.
“Maybe you’re right,” he admitted, “but you could stay on with me at one hundred or one hundred and fifty dollars a week for a long time.”