Janet Hardy in Hollywood

Janet finally agreed to the plan and Ed explained it briefly. Miss Bruder hesitated, but the others overruled her.

Jim and Ed placed their heavy canvas, sheep-lined coats on the floor and the girls laid down on them like ten pins, huddling together and putting their own coats over them.

“Get just as close as you can so you’ll keep each other warm,” counseled Jim, who, minus his heavy coat, was busy swinging his arms and legs.

In less than five minutes the girls were ready to admit that the plan was an excellent one, for they were quite comfortable under the mound of coats and Janet made them keep up a constant flow of conversation, calling to each girl every few minutes. Up in the front of the bus they could hear the boys moving steadily and stamping their feet.

How long they had been under the pile of coats Janet couldn’t guess, but suddenly there was a wild pounding on the door of the bus. She managed to get her head out from under the coats in time to see Jim open the door.

“Everyone safe?” cried someone outside.

“We’re all right,” replied Jim and then Janet saw her father looking down at the huddled group of girls on the floor of the bus. His face was covered with frost, but he brushed past the boys and knelt beside her.

“All right, honey?” he asked.

“A little cold,” Janet managed to smile. “How did you get here?”

“Never mind that. The first thing is to get out of here and where you’ll be safe and warm.”

Other men poured into the bus. Janet recognized some of them. Ed’s father was there. So was Jim’s, Cora’s and Margie’s. Someone had a big bottle of hot coffee and cardboard cups. The steaming hot liquid, bitter without sugar or cream, was passed around.

Janet drank her cup eagerly and the hot beverage warmed her chilled body.

Extra coats and mufflers had been brought by the rescue party.

“Get as warm as you can. It’s going to be a cold ride to the paved road,” advised her father.

They were soon ready and once more the door of the bus was opened. Outside a powerful searchlight glowed and as they neared it Janet saw a large caterpillar tractor. Behind this was a hayrack, mounted on runners and well filled with hay.

“Everybody into the rack. Burrow down deep so you’ll keep warm.”

Janet’s father counted them as they got into the rack, yelled to the operator of the tractor to start, and then piled into the rack himself.

With a series of sharp reports from its exhaust, the lumbering tractor got into motion, jerking the rack and its precious load behind it.

Chapter VII

SANCTUARY AT HOME

It was nearly an hour later when the tractor breasted the last grade and rolled down to the paved road where a dozen cars, all of them warmly heated and well lighted, were strung along the road. Anxious fathers and mothers were on hand, including Janet’s mother and Mrs. Thorne and they welcomed their thoroughly chilled daughters to their bosoms.

Janet’s father shepherded them into their own sedan where despite the sub-zero cold the heater had kept the car comfortable. Then they started the final lap of their eventful trip from Youde’s home.

Helen and Janet sank back on the cushions of the capacious rear seat, thoroughly worn out by their trying experience.

Janet’s father, one of the most prominent attorneys in Clarion, slipped in behind the wheel, slamming the car door and shutting out the biting blast of air.

There were other cars ahead of them and they made no attempt at high speed as they rolled back into the city.

“How did you ever find us, Dad?” asked Janet.

“You can thank the bus driver for that. Somehow he got through to a farmhouse. He was almost frozen, but he managed to tell them the story and they phoned word in to us.”

“Who thought of the tractor and hayrack?” asked Helen, warm once more.

“It was Hugh Grogan, Bernice’s father. He sells the caterpillars. Good thing he did or we’d never have gotten through.”

“It was a good thing for Bernice, too. She was about all in,” said Janet.

When they reached the Hardy home, Janet’s mother insisted that Helen and Mrs. Thorne come in and have a hot lunch before going to their own home.

While the girls took off their coats and Mr. Hardy put the car into the garage, Mrs. Hardy bustled out into the kitchen where she had left a kettle of water simmering on the stove.

Lunch was ready in short order, tea, peanut butter sandwiches, cookies and a large bowl of fruit.

Janet and Helen had ravenous appetites and the sandwiches disappeared as though by magic.

“How cold is it, Dad?” asked Janet.

“Twenty-two below.”

“The wind was awful,” said Helen, between bites at a sandwich.

“I know. It was pretty fierce going across country in the hayrack. The boys must have used their heads for someone banked the bus with snow.”

“That was Jim Barron’s idea. He and Ed Rickey kept us moving and talking most of the time, but we forgot Miss Bruder. She was in a draft and almost froze to death without saying a word to anyone.”

“That scared us half to death,” put in Helen, “but the boys massaged her hands with snow and Janet and I massaged the upper part of her body until we could get the circulation going again. I think she’ll be all right, but probably pretty sensitive to cold for the rest of the winter.”

“But the winter’s almost over. Here it’s late March. Who’d ever have thought we’d have a storm like this,” said Janet.

“If I had, I can assure you that you’d never have made the trip to Youde’s tonight,” promised her father. “It was one of those freak storms that sometimes sweep down from the Arctic circle and fool even the weather men. By tomorrow the temperature will shoot up and the snow will melt so fast we’ll probably have a flood.”

The girls finished every sandwich on the plate and drank two cups of tea apiece.

It was five o’clock when they left the table.

Mrs. Thorne and Helen started to put on their coats, but Janet’s mother objected.

“Your house will be cold and our guest room upstairs is all made up. Janet and I will lend you whatever you need. We’ll all get to bed now.”

Janet got warm pajamas for Helen and then went to her own room. Warm and inviting in the soft rays of the rose-shaded lamp over her dressing table, it was a sanctuary after the exciting events of the night.

A wave of drowsiness assailed Janet, and it was with difficulty that she unlaced and pulled off her boots. Somehow she managed to crawl into her pajamas and roll into bed, but she was asleep before she could remember to turn off the light.

Her mother, looking in a few minutes later, pulled the blankets up around Janet’s shoulders, opened the window just a crack to let in a whiff of fresh air, and turned off the light.

Janet slept a heavy and dreamless sleep. When she awakened the sun was streaming in the windows and from the angle she could tell that it was late.