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Title: The Phantom Friend A Judy Bolton Mystery Author: Margaret Sutton Release Date: December 4, 2015 [EBook #50604] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PHANTOM FRIEND *** Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Dave Morgan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net The Phantom Friend The Famous JUDY BOLTON Mystery Stories By MARGARET SUTTON In Order of Publication THE VANISHING SHADOW THE HAUNTED ATTIC THE INVISIBLE CHIMES SEVEN STRANGE CLUES THE GHOST PARADE THE YELLOW PHANTOM THE MYSTIC BALL THE VOICE IN THE SUITCASE THE MYSTERIOUS HALF CAT THE RIDDLE OF THE DOUBLE RING THE UNFINISHED HOUSE THE MIDNIGHT VISITOR THE NAME ON THE BRACELET THE CLUE IN THE PATCHWORK QUILT THE MARK ON THE MIRROR THE SECRET OF THE BARRED WINDOW THE RAINBOW RIDDLE THE LIVING PORTRAIT THE SECRET OF THE MUSICAL TREE THE WARNING ON THE WINDOW THE CLUE OF THE STONE LANTERN THE SPIRIT OF FOG ISLAND THE BLACK CAT’S CLUE THE FORBIDDEN CHEST THE HAUNTED ROAD THE CLUE IN THE RUINED CASTLE THE TRAIL OF THE GREEN DOLL THE HAUNTED FOUNTAIN THE CLUE OF THE BROKEN WING THE PHANTOM FRIEND “The film will not be shown again!” Mr. Lenz said “The film will not be shown again!” Mr. Lenz said A Judy Bolton Mystery THE PHANTOM FRIEND By Margaret Sutton Grosset & Dunlap CHAPTER I The Empty Chair II Clarissa Valentine III Tour Thirteen IV Strange Questions V Impossible Answers VI An Unfortunate Gift VII A Hidden Danger VIII The Witch’s Curse IX Into the Mist X The Wrong Direction XI On the Train XII A Night of Terror XIII Before Daylight XIV Serious Trouble XV The Wrong Girl XVI The Name on the Calendar XVII A Wanted Thief XVIII Thieves of the Mind XIX Uncovering the Facts XX Identified XXI Explained XXII Real Phantoms XXIII A Curious Letter XXIV Trapped! XXV Real Friends XXVI Talking Pillows 1 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK © GROSSET & DUNLAP, INC. 1959 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA To Alice Thorne Understanding Editor and Real Friend Contents PAGE 1 8 15 22 30 37 43 51 59 66 73 80 88 94 101 107 113 118 125 130 136 143 149 155 161 169 The Phantom Friend CHAPTER I The Empty Chair “I’ve had enough,” exclaimed Irene Meredith, ducking to protect 2 3 her face from a biting wind that was blowing across the skating area at Radio City. “Wouldn’t you like to go inside now, Judy? It’s really too cold to enjoy ice skating.” “It is cold,” Judy agreed. “What a difference from the way it was in the summer! They had chairs out here then, and there were flowered umbrellas over the tables. But with the big Christmas tree up, Radio City is still beautiful in spite of the cold. Don’t you wish —” Judy did not finish the sentence. “What’s the matter with you two?” Pauline Faulkner demanded as she stopped short, almost colliding with Judy and Irene. “You can’t just stop skating and gaze at the sights. Other people will bump into you. There, I knew it!” “Watch it!” someone called out just too late. Florence Garner, the fourth member of the skating party, turned sharply on her skates and went sprawling. But she was soon picking herself up. “Are you hurt, Flo?” Irene asked solicitously. “We’re sorry,” Judy added. “We didn’t mean to upset you.” “I’m upset in more ways than one,” Florence replied as the four girls skated off the ice. “Nothing is turning out the way I planned it. Pauline said—” “Never mind what I said,” Judy’s dark-haired friend interrupted. “We’ll discuss it at lunch.” Ten minutes later the rented skates had been returned, and the four girls were sitting around a table in a nearby restaurant. The waiter served steaming hot soup. “This will warm us up,” Irene commented over her soup plate. “Remember, Judy, I promised you we’d skate by the golden statue the next time you came to New York, and now we’ve done it.” “It was fun, but watching your television show will be the real treat,” Judy told her. “When do you have to be at the studio for rehearsal?” “Not until two. There’s lots of time.” Irene looked at the girl she had first known as Judy Bolton. She herself had been Irene Lang then, a timid little mill worker with a secret ambition to become a singer. Now, although her ambition had been realized and she was also a happy young wife and mother, she still looked to Judy for advice. “I have a big decision to make,” Irene confessed. “If you were in my place, Judy, you’d know what to do. I don’t want your little namesake to think of her mommy as one of the ‘naughty’ people on television. That’s what she calls the people who do the commercials. We even have a little song we sing about it. Dale and I made it up to amuse little Judy. Of course, I’d never dare use it on my show,” Irene added with a laugh. “The sponsor would never get over it.” “Sing it, Irene,” Judy urged her. “Right here?” The Golden Girl of TV and radio looked about the restaurant as if she had been asked to commit a crime. “I couldn’t!” 4 5 “You could if you sang it very softly. Come on, I’d like to hear it, too,” Pauline urged. “Oh, very well,” Irene gave in. “We call it ‘When I Grow Up,’ and it goes like this: “When I grow up I’ll be a teacher or a hostess on a plane, Or perhaps I’ll be the weather girl and know about the rain. I might sing and play like Mommy on TV or radio, But I wouldn’t do commercials, No, I wouldn’t do commercials, No, I wouldn’t do commercials and interrupt the show.” “I don’t like them much either,” agreed Judy after the song was over and she had stopped laughing. “Especially when you see the same thing over and over. It makes a person wonder—” “Wonder what?” asked Pauline. Irene laughed. “Judy is always wondering about something,” she explained to Florence Garner. “Her husband, Peter Dobbs, calls her his wonder girl. Peter is—” She paused. “Shall I tell her, Judy?” “She’ll find out anyway. He’s an FBI agent. It isn’t something you can keep from your friends. Of course,” Judy added, “there are times when it’s better if people don’t know.” “Criminals, you mean?” “I mean anybody. Right now Peter is away on an assignment. I don’t even know where he is. But let’s talk about you, Flo,” Judy suggested to change the subject. “Is it all right if I call you by your first name?” “Of course. I know we just met today, but I feel as if I’d known you always,” the brown-haired girl returned warmly. “Pauline has told me so much about you. I work for an advertising agency on Madison Avenue not far from the office where Emily Grimshaw holds forth.” Judy laughed. Pauline’s employer was a literary agent who peddled the works of busy authors like Irene’s husband, the detective story writer, Dale Meredith. “She knows how to get contracts from publishers. Getting advertising accounts isn’t easy, either,” Florence continued. “I’m afraid a good many people share Irene’s feelings about commercials and with reason. You should hear those ad men when they’re in conference.” “I’ve read about them,” declared Judy. “Is it true that advertising agencies employ psychologists to probe into people’s minds and find out how to make them buy certain products?” “Of course it’s true.” Pauline, the daughter of a psychiatrist, was indignant about it and said so. “I don’t see any harm in that,” Flo said defensively. “They push the items they’re paid to put across. Take the golden hair wash people, for instance. It was pure inspiration when they thought of Irene to sponsor their product. Golden Girl—golden hair wash! Can’t you just see it on the TV screen? Their hair wash will sell like crazy—” “And every girl will be a golden girl. I just can’t agree to it,” Irene 6 7 8 interrupted. “I’d have to say I use the stuff when I don’t. My hair is naturally this color.” “Mine is naturally this color, too. So help me!” put in Judy. “I dyed it once to disguise myself, but never again! Anyway, Peter likes redheads.” Pauline, a blue-eyed, black-haired beauty, seemed to be studying the others at the table. Each girl had her own distinctive coloring. Irene, with her naturally golden blond hair, wore it in a short bob. “To keep little Judy from pulling it when we romp,” she said. Judy wore her curly auburn hair in a long bob, while Florence Garner had her brown hair pinned high on her head. It, too, was curly and would have hung in ringlets if she had let it loose. A fifth chair at the table was vacant. But Judy, suddenly a little homesick, could imagine Peter’s sister sitting there to complete the picture. “Honey’s hair is darker than yours, Irene,” she spoke up unexpectedly. “I call it honey colored. I hope she never uses that golden hair wash to change it. Honey simply wouldn’t be Honey without her lovely honey-colored hair.” “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Pauline quoted airily. “Honey’s hair is actually just plain dark blond.” “Our advertising will be directed toward dark blonds. Naturally they want their hair to be golden. Who is Honey, anyway?” asked Flo. “You keep looking at that empty chair as if she were sitting at the table with us.” “She is—in spirit.” This was Irene. Judy laughed and added, “Honey is Peter’s sister. We all love her, especially my brother, Horace. He’s a newspaper reporter, and she’s supplied him with plenty of news. There was a time when we didn’t know she existed—” “No wonder!” exclaimed Flo, laughing. “She’s invisible now.” “Judy is trying to tell you about one of the mysteries she solved,” Pauline explained, “but it’s no use, Judy. There have been so many. Phantoms just follow you around waiting for you to pull off their sheets and show them up for what they are.” “And what are they?” asked Florence. “Illusions, usually.” Judy found the word a little difficult to define. “People think they see things that are really something quite different. Or else they’re imaginary—” “Like our phantom friend in the chair,” Irene interrupted with a laugh. “Shall we ask the waiter to bring an extra order—” “Are you expecting someone else to join you for lunch?” the waiter paused at the table to ask. He had overheard only part of the conversation. Judy could hardly stop herself from laughing. She was about to tell him it was only a joke when a commotion at the cashier’s desk drew her attention. “I gave you a twenty-dollar bill,” a tall girl with a country twang in her voice was insisting. “I know it was a twenty. But you’ve given me change for only a dollar. Where’s the other nineteen dollars?” 9 10 CHAPTER II Clarissa Valentine “Isn’t that the girl who was sitting alone at the next table?” asked Judy. “I noticed her watching you and smiling when you were singing that song, Irene. She seemed to be enjoying it.” “I knew I shouldn’t—” Irene stopped. The girl at the cashier’s desk was really in trouble. Her voice had risen to a wail. “You’re a thief!” she cried out melodramatically. “Daddy warned me against people like you.” “Your daddy should have warned you to be more careful of your money,” the cashier retorted sarcastically. “If you’ve lost twenty dollars—” “I didn’t lose it,” she insisted. “You took it from me!” “Poor girl! She really thinks she’s been cheated,” Irene whispered. “She’s beautiful,” said Flo, “especially when she’s angry. That girl ought to be in advertising. She’s just the unspoiled type of beauty we’re looking for. Of course, she ought to do something about her hair.” “Shampoo it with golden hair wash, I suppose? Please, Flo, don’t try to make her over,” Irene pleaded. “She’s in enough trouble as it is.” “It looks as if the cashier is going to win the argument,” observed Judy. “I feel sorry for the girl if he really is trying to cheat her.” “More likely she’s trying to cheat him. She could be putting on an act,” declared Pauline. “There, I told you so. Now she’s turned on the tears.” In a moment the weeping country girl was surrounded by a little knot of concerned people who had left their tables to try and settle the matter. As they pressed toward him the cashier flung open the cash drawer. “You see!” he pointed out. “There’s no twenty! I haven’t changed a twenty-dollar bill all day. She’s made a mistake—” “I did not,” the girl retorted tearfully. “I know what I gave you. It was a twenty. Now I don’t have money enough for my fare home.” “Where do you live?” he asked as if concerned. “If I tell you, will you give me my nineteen dollars?” “No!” he snapped. “You can’t get away with a trick like that.” “Then I’ll call the police,” she threatened. “I won’t let you cheat me out of all the money I have.” “Do you think the police will believe you?” the man inquired in a lower tone. “I don’t know!” cried the girl. “I don’t know what happened to 11 12 my twenty dollars if I didn’t give it to you.” “There!” he exclaimed triumphantly. “You’ve admitted you lost it before you came into this restaurant.” “I did nothing of the kind. Doesn’t anybody in New York care about the truth?” The girl seemed to be asking this question of the other people in the restaurant. “Please, mister,” she began to plead, “give me back my change so I can go home.” “I’m sorry.” The cashier seemed almost sympathetic. Yet he remained firm in his refusal to give the girl any money, insisting that she must have lost the bill she thought she gave him. “Come, sit with us and tell us all about it.” Judy offered on impulse. “We care about the truth.” “Then you’ll look in that man’s pockets,” declared the nearly hysterical girl. “He took it—” “We would report him to the manager,” Florence Garner suggested. “And make him lose his job? Mistakes happen,” declared Pauline Faulkner. “We have no way of knowing which of you is in the right.” “That’s true.” The girl controlled her sobs and said, “It’s kind of you to take an interest in me. I needed that twenty—” “If we each chip in five dollars, you’ll still have money enough to take you home. You may consider it a loan,” Irene said. “Thanks.” The girl smiled for the first time. “You’re a genuine Golden Girl. I’ve seen you on television. I recognized your voice, too, when you sang that funny song. You’re Irene Meredith!” “Indeed I am.” Irene introduced the other girls and offered the newcomer the vacant chair at the table. “Now our phantom friend is real,” declared Judy. The girl looked startled. “I hope I’m real. Once,” she confessed, “I looked in the mirror, and there was no reflection. It scared me half out of my wits. Why do you call me a phantom friend?” “We were pretending we had a fifth girl at the table. It was just a joke. You do have a name, don’t you?” Judy asked. “It’s Clarissa,” the girl replied. “Clarissa Valentine.” “That sounds like a stage name,” declared Pauline. “You aren’t an actress, are you?” “No, but I’d like to be. That’s why I came to New York,” Clarissa admitted. “At home we had a little theater group for a while. But they’re old-fashioned down there. Some of the people in my father’s parish didn’t think it proper for a minister’s daughter to act on the stage. We had to give up the little theater, so I coaxed Daddy to let me come here. I thought I could get a little part on TV, but I was wrong. I couldn’t get any kind of a job. I was all out of money when Daddy sent me that twenty dollars for Christmas. He said he hoped I’d spend it for a ticket back home to West Virginia. I was going to take the train tonight.” “You can still take it if you let us help you. Meantime,” Florence Garner suggested, “why don’t you join us for a tour of Radio City, my treat?” 13 14 “Do you mean it?” asked Clarissa, obviously surprised. “Touring Radio City was one of the things I especially wanted to do. Will we see ourselves on television?” “We certainly will.” “Are you joking?” asked Judy. “How could we—” “You’ll see,” Irene promised. “There’s a live show you may catch if you hurry. But perhaps you’d rather wait and see mine tonight. Francine Dow is playing the Sleeping Beauty. You’ll love her in it. I’m lucky to have her as a guest on my show. She can really act.” “So can you, Irene.” The Golden Girl of TV and radio tossed Judy’s compliment aside. “I can sing and tell stories. That’s about all. A part like this takes real talent. When you see the show you’ll understand. Notice the equipment and don’t be afraid to ask questions of the guide while you’re taking the tour,” Irene continued. “You’ll enjoy my show more if you know the types of cameras being used and understand what the men on the floor are doing.” “Who are the men on the floor?” asked Clarissa. “I haven’t time to tell you now. The guide will explain it. I must dash, or I’ll be late for rehearsal. Our studio is way uptown. Here’s the address.” Irene handed Judy a card on which she had written, “Admit four.” “That includes Clarissa if she wants to come. You know I’m not on one of the big networks.” “You could be,” Florence began. “Please,” Irene stopped her. “I won’t be on anything if I’m late for rehearsal. Turn in your contributions, girls, and let’s go.” Clarissa seemed almost too eager to accept the four bills the girls offered her. They paid the cashier, counting their change carefully, and left the restaurant together. Outside, the wind had increased, sending swirls and flurries of snow ahead of them as they crossed the street. They could scarcely see each other through the whiteness in the air. “I’ll leave you here. Cheer up, Flo. I’ll let you know my decision in a day or two,” Irene promised as she hurried off. “Talk her into it, Judy,” urged Pauline. The four girls had entered the RCA Building, glad of the warmth they found inside. “Talk her into what?” asked Judy. “I’m afraid I don’t know the language. Do you have a new sponsor for Irene?” “Yes, the golden hair wash people.” “Oh,” Judy said and was suddenly silent. “Would she be on one of the big networks?” asked Clarissa. “Yes, the biggest. You’d see her on your TV at home, Judy. Isn’t that worth thinking about? You can talk her into it if anyone can,” Flo urged. “I’ll discuss it with her. How do the rest of you feel about it?” asked Judy. “I think she ought to accept the offer,” Pauline volunteered. 15 16 “There’s nothing wrong with commercials if they’re in good taste. Lots of stars do them.” “It’s a selling job like any other. The sponsor pays for the program,” put in Flo. “I wish Irene could see it that way. She could sell golden hair wash.” “She doesn’t believe in it,” Judy objected. “If she used the stuff herself it would be different.” “I’d use it. I’d do anything,” declared Clarissa. “I’d dye my hair green to get on TV.” “That’s hardly ever necessary,” laughed Flo. “Do we really see ourselves on television when we take this tour?” Pauline questioned. “I think so.” Judy asked at the information desk to make sure and came back all excited. “It’s true!” she exclaimed. “The guide just told me.” “Then what are we waiting for?” asked Clarissa. Taking Judy’s arm, she pulled her on down the concourse until they came to a high desk where tickets were being sold. Judy found herself paying for them although Florence Garner had been the one to suggest the tour. Clarissa clutched her ticket eagerly and whispered, as if to herself, “I hope I show. It would be terrible if I just faded away.” CHAPTER III Tour Thirteen “Did you say faded or fainted?” asked Judy. “People don’t faint away unless they’re ill. You feel all right, don’t you?” “Just a little trembly,” Clarissa confessed. “I’m excited, I guess—” “There’s nothing to be excited about,” Pauline told her. “I’ve taken this tour before. You just see behind the scenes in the different studios. It’s a little dull, really.” Apparently Clarissa did not think so. “Dull? How can you say that? If we see ourselves on television—” A voice from a loudspeaker interrupted. “Tour Thirteen leaves in five minutes.” “That must be us!” exclaimed Judy. About a dozen people were waiting at the top of a short flight of stairs. Some of them were watching TV as they waited. Judy and her friends joined them. The set had been tuned to one of the local channels. “It’s Teen Time Party!” exclaimed Pauline. “Wouldn’t you like to be there dancing?” 17 18 “They’re high school students, aren’t they?” asked Judy. “Most of them, I guess. There are probably a few professionals among them,” Pauline added. “This one, for instance.” A lovely, golden-haired girl and her partner were caught by the camera in a close-up. The announcer turned to the audience and said, “Isn’t her hair beautiful? You, too, can be a beautiful golden blonde. Shampoo glamorous new beauty into your hair with golden hair wash.” “I use it. Why don’t you try it?” asked the girl on the television screen. In a moment she was dancing again, mixing with the other teenagers as if she were one of them. She wasn’t a star. Judy had never seen her on television before. “This,” she was thinking, “is all Irene would have to say. ‘I use it.’ Three little words, but they’re not true. Irene doesn’t use it. Maybe she should. Her hair is dull and drab. Why am I thinking that?” Judy asked herself. “It’s my hair that’s dull and drab.” “Yours?” Florence asked. Judy had not realized she was speaking her thoughts aloud. Florence went on, “That’s funny, Judy. You wouldn’t want your hair any brighter than it is.” “No,” Judy admitted, “I guess I wouldn’t. I always thought it was too bright before. I don’t know why I said that.” “I do,” Clarissa spoke up. “You read my thoughts. I was just thinking my hair is dull. I could be beautiful if I didn’t have this drab, dull hair. It was lighter when I was small. It was really golden then. But all at once it began to get darker. I changed in other ways, too. Mother says I must be a changeling—” “Changelings aren’t real,” Pauline stopped her. “They’re what witches were supposed to leave when they snatched real children.” “There’s a witch in Sleeping Beauty,” Flo put in. “Irene says her dance is the best thing in the whole show. This tour is nothing compared to what we’ll see tonight, but it will kill time until seven o’clock.” “You mean six-thirty,” Judy corrected her. “We have to be at the studio half an hour before the show begins, and I would like to be there even earlier than that so Irene can explain things. There’s so much I don’t know.” The guide, overhearing Judy’s remark, smiled and said, “So you’re going to visit the Golden Girl show?” “It’s treason,” Pauline whispered. “Irene’s show is on another channel. So is Teen Time Party. One of the tourists must have turned it on.” It was off now. In its place a gay crowd of young people were singing the praises of a popular cigarette. “That’s one of our accounts,” Flo said proudly. “It’s wasted on me. I don’t smoke,” laughed Judy as the tour moved on to a large room lined with pictures of television stars appearing on the big network. People were pointing and exclaiming, each one seeming to have his own favorite. “Irene’s picture should be up there,” Flo remarked, “but she 19 20 wouldn’t do commercials, no, she wouldn’t do commercials, no, she wouldn’t do commercials—” “Please, Flo, don’t make fun of Irene,” begged Judy. “She’s only standing up for what she believes is the right thing.” “How right is it to throw away money you could be making?” Flo countered. “Judy, you must talk her into accepting this offer. Tell her you think it’s right.” “I’m not sure what I think. If she really used golden hair wash then she wouldn’t have to say anything that wasn’t true, would she? I think I’ll buy a bottle and ask her to try it,” Judy decided. “Should I try it, too? Brown is a dull color,” Flo began, but was interrupted. The guide, a brown-haired girl herself, stepped to the head of the line and announced that the tour was about to begin. The group followed her to an elevator that whisked them up to one of the smaller studios. They had just missed the show Irene had mentioned. “Would you like to watch a set being dismantled? There aren’t any live shows being televised at present,” the guide said as she ushered the group to a row of seats behind what she told them was soundproof glass. A small television set that she called a monitor was at the left of the seats. In front of it, on the other side of the glass, the studio floor was alive with activity. Cameras and microphones were being pushed out of the way. The walls of what had been an indoor scene were rolled back and replaced by a huge weather map. The weather girl would be the next person to use this studio. “Will we see her?” asked Judy. This was a program she and Peter often watched at their home in Dry Brook Hollow. She thought of watching Irene, and the wish to see her dearest friend on television became so strong she could think of nothing else except, “She should use golden hair wash.” “Judy! We’re going to the control room now.” Judy came out of her trance to realize that Pauline was speaking to her. She was the last one on the line that wended its way toward the glass-enclosed control room where the engineers sat before rows of monitor screens awaiting word from the director. “He says ‘take one’ or ‘take two,’ and in a split second the picture he wants is on the screen,” the guide explained. “When a live show is on the air, the cameras are working all the time.” “What about the lights?” asked one of the strangers taking the tour. “Lighting a show is an engineering feat in itself.” And the guide went on to explain the flashing red and green lights as well as the other technical equipment being handled by the crew on duty in the control room. On the wall above their heads were clocks that told what time it was all over the world. “Wonderful, isn’t it?” everyone agreed. A wall chart farther down the corridor explained the inside story of color television. It was complete with push buttons and flashing lights. The men taking the tour were especially interested. Pauline said she recognized one of them. “I recognize him, too,” Florence agreed. “He works for our agency. It’s funny he didn’t speak to me.” 21 22 “He’s too interested in what the guide is telling him to speak to anybody,” Judy observed. The man was interested. He was young with straight brown hair that kept falling over his forehead as he leaned forward to examine this or that gadget. The guide was giving him most of her attention. “When do we see ourselves on TV?” Clarissa whispered. “Patience,” Pauline told her. “We’re coming to that. We stand in front of a camera, and the guide interviews us, but I think we go up to the sound-effects room first.” “That’s radio, isn’t it? I watched the sound-effects man once on a radio broadcast,” Judy remembered. “It was right here in Radio City, but I had a mystery to solve and didn’t take the whole tour.” The others asked her about the mystery, and she began to tell them about what happened before she and Peter Dobbs were married. “Irene had a radio show then. It was the summer before little Judy was born. Honey was just out of art school. Peter and I drove to New York to bring her home.” “Who is Honey?” asked Clarissa. For the second time that day Judy explained that Peter’s sister had been in their thoughts when they pretended at the table in the restaurant. “We called her a phantom just for fun. And then you came and sat in her chair,” Judy continued. “It did seem a little weird. You’re like Honey in many ways. You’re taller, of course, and your hair is darker—” “It won’t be much longer,” declared Clarissa. “I’m going to buy a bottle of that golden hair wash with some of the money you girls lent me. Then I’ll be beautiful.” “You are beautiful,” Flo insisted. “Didn’t I say so, girls? There’s nothing wrong with the color of your hair.” “It’s drab. It’s dull.” “Oh, stop it, Clarissa!” cried Judy. “We lent you that money for your fare home, not to waste on shampoo.” “It won’t be wasted. You’ll see.” “What will your folks say?” asked Pauline. “You’re the daughter of a country minister, aren’t you? People will talk—” “Let them! I won’t care if I’m beautiful.” “You’re impossible!” Flo exclaimed. “How old are you, anyway? You ought to be at home going to school.” Clarissa wouldn’t tell her age. She wouldn’t tell anything more about herself or her plans. Judy was looking forward to the TV interviews. The guide might ask Clarissa some leading questions. CHAPTER IV Strange Questions “We’re supposed to be finding out things on this tour,” complained 23 24 Judy as they stopped to look in on another studio, “but I keep thinking about my hair. I’m like you, Clarissa. I want to rush right out and buy a bottle of that golden hair wash. But why? I’d never use it.” “Maybe you want to buy it for Irene,” Flo suggested. “I don’t really. That’s just it. I don’t want to buy it at all, and yet I feel compelled to try it. Why?” “I know why I want to,” Clarissa insisted. “If I had beautiful golden hair I might not go home at all. I might stay here and get a job doing commercials. See that girl on the floor now? I could do what she’s doing. I could demonstrate a magic cleaner as well as she can. I did plenty of cleaning and scrubbing at home, and I didn’t have any little fairy to help me, either. Look, girls! See that little fairy dancing around the sink. It isn’t there, but you can see it on the monitor. How do they make it look like that?” The guide explained it. A cartoon film was placed in a camera she called a balopticon so that the fairy appeared to be helping the girl clean the sink, dancing about in the powder and waving her magic wand. Little specks of stardust seemed to fly from the end of it until the whole kitchen was spotless. “Interesting, isn’t it?” she finished. Some of the people found it so. Questions were asked about the properties set up to make the studio look like a kitchen. The floor was a design of squares painted on with water colors. It would be washed away when the set was changed. Others were beginning to act bored. Judy noticed several women stopping to take mirrors out of their purses and look at themselves critically. One of them asked, “Will we need stage makeup? I’ve heard the stars use plenty of it.” “Not at all,” replied the guide. “We will appear as we are.” “Oh dear!” wailed Clarissa. “I look terrible. My hair is dull. My hair is drab—” “Turn her off, somebody!” Pauline interrupted. “We’ve heard that record before.” “She has my head spinning like a record,” declared Judy. “I hope I remember some of the things we’ve learned on this tour. A balopticon is one kind of camera and a dolly is another—” “It isn’t the camera. It’s the truck that’s called a dolly,” Pauline corrected her. “You see, it takes two men to work it. That’s the camera man up there on the funny little seat.” “Why is he wearing earphones? Did the guide say?” “She did say something about the men on the studio floor hearing directions from the control room. It is complicated,” put in Flo. “You can’t be expected to remember most of it.” “Well, anyway, I know that big fishing-line thing is the mike boom. If I remember that much, Irene won’t think I’m too ignorant,” Judy concluded. “I wonder how they keep all that equipment from showing on a live TV show.” The guide took time to explain it, telling them how accurately the cameras had to be focused so that the mike boom which dangled its microphone right over the heads of the performers was always just out of the picture.