diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:07:43 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:07:43 -0700 |
| commit | a57b37b5a01b6b3707f8bcc2e5624b3cbb76d8f4 (patch) | |
| tree | 3d0c9c3182efcedaf12796247ca83b496b1ab872 | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 37303-0.txt | 5652 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 37303-0.zip | bin | 0 -> 96088 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 37303-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 165730 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 37303-h/37303-h.htm | 8731 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 37303-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg | bin | 0 -> 67093 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 37303.txt | 5652 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 37303.zip | bin | 0 -> 94956 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
10 files changed, 20051 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/37303-0.txt b/37303-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0e012fa --- /dev/null +++ b/37303-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5652 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Girls of Central High on the Stage, by +Gertrude W. Morrison + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Girls of Central High on the Stage + The Play That Took The Prize + +Author: Gertrude W. Morrison + +Release Date: September 3, 2011 [EBook #37303] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GIRLS OF CENTRAL HIGH *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from images made available by the HathiTrust +Digital Library.) + + + + + + +[Illustration: AND SO JESS MORSE STEPPED FORWARD, BASHFULLY, AND FACED +THE AUDIENCE—_Page_ 205] + + The Girls + of Central High + on the Stage + + OR + + The Play That Took The Prize + + BY + + GERTRUDE W. MORRISON + + Author of The Girls of Central High, + The Girls of Central High on Lake Luna, + Etc. + + _ILLUSTRATED_ + + THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO. + CLEVELAND—NEW YORK + + Made in U. S. A. + + + + + Copyright, 1914, by + GROSSET & DUNLAP + + Press of + THE COMMERCIAL BOOKBINDING CO. + Cleveland + + + + + CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + I What the M. O. R.’s Needed 1 + II What Josephine Morse Needed 9 + III What Mr. Chumley Needed 18 + IV What Mrs. Prentice Needed 28 + V There is a General Need 34 + VI It All Comes Out 40 + VII The Hand Held Out 50 + VIII The Race Is On 60 + IX A Skating Party 70 + X The Mid-Term Examination 80 + XI Missing 87 + XII Counsel for the Defense 95 + XIII A Way is Opened 104 + XIV In Suspense 113 + XV A Mile a Minute 121 + XVI “Just Like a Story Book” 128 + XVII Lily Pendleton Is Dissatisfied 139 + XVIII The Ski Runners 146 + XIX The First Dress Rehearsal 153 + XX “Mr. Pizotti” 160 + XXI Mother Wit Puts Two and Two Together 170 + XXII Mrs. Plornish 178 + XXIII “Caught on the Fly” 187 + XXIV The Great Night 197 + XXV Good News for Jess 202 + + + + +THE GIRLS OF CENTRAL HIGH ON THE STAGE + + + + +CHAPTER I—WHAT THE M. O. R.’S NEEDED + + +The M. O. R. house was alight from cellar to garret. It was the first +big reception of the winter and followed closely the end of the first +basketball trophy series and the football game between the Central High +team and that of West High. + +The M. O. R. was the only girls’ secret society countenanced by Franklin +Sharp, the principal of Central High. Until you belonged to it you never +knew what the three initials stood for; after you were lucky enough to +belong, the name of the society became such a deep and dark mystery that +you never dared whisper it, even to your very closest “spoon.” + +Therefore, in all probability, we shall never learn just what “M. O. R.” +stands for. + +Among the boys of Central High, their sisters and the other girls +belonging to the secret society were spoken of as “Mothers of the +Republic.” But the boys were only jealous. They were entirely shut out +of the doings of the M. O. R.’s, which long antedated the Girls’ Branch +Athletic League; the boys never were allowed within the sacred precincts +of the “House” save on the occasion of the special reception at Easter. + +The house was a narrow slice of brownstone front in the middle of a +block of similar dwellings, within sight of the schoolhouse, and in the +Hill section of Centerport. The Hill was supposed to be very exclusive, +and rents were high. And the rental of the thirteen-foot slice of +brownstone had become a serious problem to the Board of Governors of the +M. O. R. + +Some M. O. R.’s had gone to college, many of them had married, some had +moved many, many miles away from Centerport. But most of them remembered +tenderly the first school society of which they had been members. The +alumnae were loyal to M. O. R. + +And some of the alumnae were on the present Board of Governors, and +were—on this reception night—discussing seriously with the more active +members of the board the financial state of the society. The owner of +the house had notified them of a raise in rent for the coming year to an +absolutely impossible figure. The M. O. R.’s must look for new quarters. + +“If we could only interest the pupils of Central High, as a whole, +members and those who are not in the M. O. R.,” sighed Mrs. Mabel +Kerrick. + +The presence of this widowed lady, daughter of one of the wealthiest men +in Centerport, and an alumna of the school, upon the Board of Governors +of the M. O. R. needs an explanation that must be deferred. + +“I don’t see how we can interest the boys—they only make fun,” said a +very bright looking girl sitting upon the other side of the room, and +beside another very bright looking girl who looked so much like her +(they were dressed just alike) that unless one had seen her lips move +one could never have told whether Dora Lockwood, or Dorothy Lockwood, +had spoken. + +“And how are you going to interest the girls who haven’t been asked to +join the M. O. R.—and are not likely to be asked?” demanded the other +twin. “The very exclusiveness of the society makes it impossible for us +to call upon the school in general for help.” + +“Just raise the fees and we can pay the higher rent,” remarked another +girl, briskly. + +“And then, at the end of next year, Mr. Chumley will raise it again. He +owns more rentable property than any other man on the Hill, and just as +soon as he is sure his tenant is settled he begins to put up the rent on +him,” observed a fourth girl. + +“That is just it,” Mrs. Kerrick responded, slowly. “The society should +not pay rent. We should own our own house. We should build. We should +raise a goodly sum of money this winter toward the building fund. But we +must find some method of interesting everybody in our need. + +“A membership in the M. O. R. has always been a reward of merit. +Freshmen cannot, of course, be ‘touched’ for the M. O. R., and few +sophomores attain that enviable eminence. But by the time a girl has +reached her senior year at Central High it is her own fault if she is +not a member. + +“Therefore, the girls of the younger classes should be interested in the +stability of the society, irrespective of whether they are members yet, +or not. And naturally, if the girls are interested, they can interest +their brothers and their parents.” + +“Suppose, Mrs. Kerrick, a girl hasn’t any brothers?” demurely asked a +quiet girl in the corner. + +“Very well, then, Nellie Agnew!” said the lady, laughing. “You go and +interest some other girl’s brother. But we haven’t heard from little +Mother Wit,” added Mrs. Kerrick, turning suddenly to a pretty, plump +girl, all in brown and with shining hair and eyes, who sat by herself at +the far end of the room. “Haven’t you a thing to say, Laura Belding?” + +“Won’t it be a little difficult,” asked the girl addressed, diffidently, +“to invent anything that will interest everybody in the building fund of +the M. O. R.?” + +“That’s what we’re all saying, Laura,” said one of the other members of +the Board. “Now you invent something!” + +“You give me a hard task,” laughed the brown girl. “Of course, all +members—both active and graduate—will be interested for their +membership’s sake. The problem is, then, in addition, to interest, +first, the girls who _may_ be members, and, second, the boys and general +public who can never be members of the M. O. R.” + +“Logically put, Laura,” urged Mrs. Kerrick. “Then what?” + +“Why wouldn’t a play fill the bill?” asked Laura. “Offer a prize for an +original play written by a girl of Central High, irrespective of class +or whether she is an M. O. R. or not—that will interest the girls in +general. Have the play presented by boys and girls of the school—that +will hold the boys. And the parents and general public can help by +paying to see the performance.” + +The younger members of the committee looked at one another doubtfully; +but Mrs. Kerrick clapped her hands enthusiastically. + +“A play! The very thing! And Mr. Sharp will approve that, no doubt. We +will appoint him chief of the committee to decide upon the play. And we +will offer a prize big enough to make it worth while for every girl to +try her best to produce a good one.” + +“But that prize must be deducted from the profits of the performance,” +objected the practical Nellie Agnew. + +“No,” replied Mrs. Kerrick, promptly. “That will be my gift. _I_ will +offer the prize—two hundred dollars—for the best play submitted before +New Year’s. How is that? Do you think it will ‘take’? Come, Laura, does +your inventive genius approve of that suggestion?” + +“I think it is very lovely of you, Mrs. Kerrick,” cried Mother Wit. “Oh, +my! Two hundred dollars! It is magnificent. Let us find Mr. Sharp at +once and see if he approves. He is still in the house, I know,” and at +her suggestion somebody was sent to hunt for the principal of Central +High, who was one of the guests of honor of the M. O. R. on this +particular evening. + +Centerport was a lively, wealthy inland city situated on the shore of +Lake Luna, and boasting three high schools within its precincts. The new +building of Central High was much finer and larger than the East and +West Highs, and there was considerable rivalry between the girls of the +three schools, not only in athletic matters, but in all other affairs. +Out of school hours, basketball and other athletics had pretty well +filled the minds of the girls of Central High; and Laura Belding and her +particular chums had been as active in these inter-school athletics as +any. + +In fact, it was Mother Wit, as her friends and schoolmates called Laura, +who interested Colonel Richard Swayne, Mrs. Kerrick’s father, in the +matter of girls’ athletics and so made possible for the girls of Central +High the finest athletic field and gymnasium in the State. + +Incidentally she had interested Mrs. Kerrick in the girls of Central +High, too, and reminded the widowed lady that she was an alumna and a +member of the M. O. R. In her renewed interest in the affairs of the +secret society and in the Girls’ Branch Athletic League, Mrs. Kerrick +had become very different from the almost helpless invalid first +introduced to the reader in the first volume of this series, entitled +“The Girls of Central High; Or, Rivals for All Honors.” + +In that first volume was related the establishment of athletics for +girls at Central High, and introduced Laura Belding and her especial +chums in their school trials and triumphs. In the second volume, “The +Girls of Central High on Lake Luna; Or, The Crew That Won,” were +narrated the summer aquatic sports of the same group of girls and their +boy friends. + +“The Girls of Central High at Basketball; Or, The Great Gymnasium +Mystery,” the third volume of the series, told of the girls when they +had become juniors and related the struggle of the rival basketball +teams of the three Centerport highs, and the high schools of Keyport and +Lumberport, at either end of Lake Luna, for the trophy cup. That series +of games had just been finished and Central High had won the trophy, +when Laura and her friends, as members of the M. O. R., are again +introduced to the reader’s notice at the opening of this chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER II—WHAT JOSEPHINE MORSE NEEDED + + +In spite of the bright lights illuminating the windows of the M. O. R. +house—and many other larger and finer houses at that end of Whiffle +Street—outside it was dark and dreary enough. Especially was this so at +the “poverty-stricken end,” as Josephine Morse called her section of the +street. Jess and her widowed mother lived on the fringe of the wealthy +Hill district, where Whiffle Street develops an elbow, suddenly becomes +narrow, and debouches upon Market Street. + +It was raining, too. Not an honest, splashing downpour, but a drizzling, +half-hearted rain that drifted about the streets as though ashamed of +itself, leaving a deposit of slime on all the crosswalks, and making the +corner street-lamps weep great tears. The gas-lamps, too, seemed in a +fog and struggled feebly against the blackness of the evening. + +Under a huge umbrella which snuffed her almost like a candle, Jess had +made her way into Market Street and to Mr. Closewick’s grocery store +near the corner. She carried a basket on her arm and she had given the +clerk rather a long list of necessary things, although she had studied +to make the quantities as modest as possible. The clerk had put them all +up now and packed them into the basket and stood expectantly with the +list checked off in his hand. + +“Two dollars and seven cents, Miss Jess,” he said. + +“I’ll have to ask you to add that to our bill,” said the girl, flushing. +“Mother is short of money just now.” + +“Wait a moment, Miss Jess; I’ll speak to Mr. Closewick,” said the clerk, +seemingly as much embarrassed as the girl herself, and he stepped +hastily toward the glass-enclosed office at the rear of the store. + +But the pursy old man with the double chin and spectacles on his +forehead, the height of which the wisp of reddish-gray hair could not +hide, had observed it all. He got down ponderously from his stool and +squeaked out behind the long counter in his shiny boots. + +“I sent my bill over to your mother this morning, Miss Jess,” he said. +“It is more than twenty dollars without this list of goods to-night,” +and he shook the modest little paper in his hand, having taken it from +the clerk. + +“Mother is short of money just now,” repeated Jess. + +“So’m I. You tell her so. I can’t let you increase your indebtedness,” +and his pudgy hand lifted the basket and put it on the shelf behind him. + +“You pay me something on account, or pay for these goods you’ve ordered +this evening. I’m needing money, too.” + +“Mr. Closewick! I hope you won’t do that,” gasped Jess, paling under his +stern glance. “We will pay you—we always have. Mother sometimes has to +wait for her money—a long time. We spend many a twenty-dollar bill in +your store during the year——” + +“That ain’t neither here nor there,” said the grocer, ponderously. “It’s +a rule I have. Never let a bill run more than twenty dollars. ’Specially +where there’s no man in the family. Hard to collect from a woman. Makes +me bad friends if I press ’em. I can afford to risk losing twenty +dollars; but no more!” + +“How can you!” cried Jess, under her breath, for there was somebody else +entering the store. “We have bought of you for years——” + +“And if I hadn’t stuck to the few business rules I have, I wouldn’t have +been here selling you goods for years,” returned Mr. Closewick, grimly. +“The sheriff would have sold me out. I’m sorry for your mother, and I +don’t want to lose her trade. But business is business.” + +“And you cannot favor us for this single occasion?” choked Jess. + +“It would lead to others; I can’t break a rule,” said the grocer, +stubbornly. “Come now, Miss Jess! You go home and tell your mother how +it is. I’ll keep this basket right here for you, and you come back with +the two-seven, and it will be all right.” + +“That would be useless,” said Jess, clinging to the counter for support, +and feeling for the moment as though she should sink, “We haven’t any +money—at present. If we had I should not have asked you for any +extension of credit. Please give me back my basket.” + +“So?” returned the grocer, frowning. “Very well,” and he deliberately +unpacked the parcels and handed her the basket—making a show of so +doing in the presence of the newly arrived customer. “And what can I do +for _you_, this evening, Mrs. Brown?” he asked, blandly, speaking to the +new arrival while he handed Jess her basket without a word. + +“And that woman will tell about it all over town!” thought the girl, as +she hurried into the street. “Oh, dear, dear! whatever shall I do?” + +For the cupboard at the Morse cottage was very bare indeed. Mrs. Mary +Morse had some little standing as a contributor to the more popular +magazines; but the returns from her pen-work being her entire means of +income, there were sometimes weary waitings for checks. Jess had been +used to these unpleasant occasions ever since she was a very little +girl. Her mother was of a nervous temperament and easily disturbed; and +as Jess had grown she had tried to shield her mother, at these times of +famine, from its most unpleasant features. + +As witness her passage-at-arms with the grocer, Mr. Closewick. No money +in the house, an empty pantry, their credit cut off at the store where +they had always traded, and no credit established at any other grocer’s +shop! The situation looked desperate, indeed, to Jess Morse. + +Jess shrank from trying the butcher’s and the dairy store, too. At each +shop an unpaid bill would stare her in the face and to-night she felt as +though each proprietor would demand a “payment on account.” It was a +black night indeed. November was going out in its very mournfullest and +dismallest manner. + +And for Jess Morse there was an added burden of disappointment and +trouble. She was not able to attend the M. O. R. reception, although she +was a member. Laura Belding, her very dearest friend, would be there and +would wonder why she, Jess, did not appear. And after the reception Chet +Belding, Laura’s brother, would be waiting to take Jess home—she hadn’t +had the heart to tell Chet that she would not need his escort from the +reception. + +But, as Jess had told her mother, that blue party dress had become +impossible. Let alone its being months behind the fashion, it was frayed +around the bottom and the front breadth was sorely stained. And she +hadn’t another gown fit to put on in the evening. She did so long for +something to wear at a party in which her friends would not know her two +blocks away. So she had “cut” the reception at the M. O. R. house. + +All this was a heavy load on Jess Morse’s mind as she approached, with +hesitating steps, the butter and egg shop kept by Mr. Vandergriff. + +“Certainly,” thought the troubled girl, “I either need a whole lot of +courage, or a lot of money—either would come in very handy to-night.” + +Just then Jess was aroused from her brown study by hearing somebody +calling breathlessly after her. + +“Hi! Hi! Aren’t you going to look around? Jess Morse!” + +A girl smaller than herself, and dressed from neck to heels in a +glistening raincoat, ran under Jess’s umbrella and seized her arm. She +was a laughing, curly-haired girl with dancing black eyes and an +altogether roguish look. + +“Jess Morse! don’t you ever look back on the street—no matter what +happens?” she demanded. + +“For what was Lot’s wife turned to salt, Bobby?” returned Jess, +solemnly. + +“For good! Now you know, don’t you?” laughed Clara Hargrew, whose +youthful friends knew her as “Bobby.” + +“Why aren’t you at the ‘big doin’s’ to-night,” demanded the harum-scarum +Bobby. “You’re a Mother of the Republic; what means this delinquency?” + +“Just supposing I had something else to do?” returned Jess, trying to +speak lightly. “I’m on an errand now.” + +She wished to shake Bobby off. She dared not take her into Mr. +Vandergriff’s store. Suppose the butter and egg man should treat her as +the grocer had? + +“Say! you ought to be up there,” cried the unconscious Bobby. “I just +came past the house and it was all lit up like—like a hotel. And Mr. +Sharp was just coming out with Mrs. Kerrick. Mrs. Kerrick is going to do +something big for us girls of Central High.” + +“What do you mean?” asked Jess, only half interested in Bobby’s gossip. + +“Going to give us a chance to win a prize, or something,” pursued Bobby. + +“Oh! how do you know?” Jess showed more interest now. + +“Why, I heard Mr. Sharp say, as he was helping Mrs. Kerrick into Colonel +Swayne’s auto: + +“‘The girls of Central High should be delighted, Mrs. Kerrick—and very +grateful to you, indeed. Two hundred dollars! And a chance for any smart +girl to win it!’—just like that. Now, Jess, you and I are both smart +girls, aren’t we?” demanded Bobby, roguishly. + +“We think we are, at any rate,” returned Jess, more eagerly. “Two +hundred dollars! Oh! wouldn’t that be fine!” + +“It would buy a lot of candy and ice-cream sodas,” chuckled Bobby. + +But to herself Jess Morse thought: “And it would mean the difference, +for mother and me, between penury and independence! Oh, dear me! is it +something that I can do to earn two hundred dollars?” + +And she listened to Bobby’s surmises about the mysterious prize without +taking in half what the younger girl was saying. Two hundred dollars! +And she and her mother did not have a cent. She looked up and saw the +lights of the butter and egg store just ahead, and sighed. + + + + +CHAPTER III—WHAT MR. CHUMLEY NEEDED + + +“Well, old Molly-grubs, I’ve got to leave you here,” said Bobby Hargrew, +pinching the arm of Jess. “You’re certainly down in the mouth to-night. +I never saw you so before. I’d like to know what the matter is with +you,” complained Bobby, and ran off in the rain. + +Jess was heartily glad to get rid of her; and it was seldom that she +ever felt that way about Bobby. Bobby was the double distilled essence +of cheerfulness. + +But Jess felt as though nothing could cheer her to-night but the finding +of a big, fat pocket-book on the street—one that “didn’t belong to +nobody!” There wasn’t such an object in sight, however, along the +glistening walk—the walk that glistened in the lamplight from Mr. +Vandergriff’s store. + +She positively _had_ to try her luck at the butter and egg shop. The man +could do no more than refuse her, that was sure. + +But when Jess had lowered her umbrella and backed into the shop, she +found several customers waiting at the counter. Mr. Vandergriff and his +son, whom the boys called “Griff” and who played fullback on the Central +High football team, were waiting upon these customers. Soon Griff was +through with the man he was waiting on and came to Jess. + +“What’s yours to-night, Miss Morse?” he asked, and was so cheerful about +it that the girl’s heart rose. They didn’t owe Mr. Vandergriff such a +large bill, anyway. The proprietor was waiting upon the lady who stood +beside Jess as she gave her order to Griff. The lady was a very dressy +person and she laid her silver-mesh purse on the counter between herself +and Jess. The latter saw the glint of gold coins between the meshes of +the purse and her heart throbbed. She moved quietly away from the lady. +Wasn’t it wicked—seemingly—that one should have so much money, while +another needed the very necessities of life? + +“Thank you, Griff,” Jess heard herself saying to the younger +Vandergriff, as he packed her modest order in the basket. “I shall have +to ask you to charge that.” + +“All right, Miss Morse. Nothing more to-night?” + +“No,” said Jess, and went back and unhooked her umbrella from the edge +of the counter where she had hung it, and started for the door. A +bright-eyed man in a long blue raincoat who had been waited upon by +Griff already was just then going out, and he held open the door for +her. As she stepped out the girl saw that the rain was no longer +falling—merely a mist clung about the street lamps. She did not raise +her umbrella, but hurried toward home. + +There was enough in her basket for breakfast, at least. She would wait +until to-morrow—which was Saturday—before she went to the butcher’s. +Perhaps something would happen. Perhaps in the morning mail there would +be a check for her mother instead of a returned manuscript. + +And all the time, while her feet flew homeward, she thought of the prize +of two hundred dollars that Mrs. Mabel Kerrick was to offer for the +girls of Central High to work for. What was the task? Could it be +something that _she_ excelled in? + +Jess was almost tempted to wait up until the reception was over and then +run to the Belding house and see her chum before Laura went to bed. +Laura might know all about it. + +_Two hundred dollars!_ + +Jess saw the words before her in dancing, rain-drop letters. They seemed +to beckon her on, and in a few minutes she was at the cottage, just at +the “elbow” of Whiffle Street, and came breathlessly into the kitchen. + +The room was empty, and the fire in the stove was but a spark. Jess +tiptoed to the sitting-room door and peered in. Her mother, wearing an +ink-stained jacket, was busy at her desk, the pen scratching on the big +sheets of pad paper. The typewriter was open, too, and the girl could +see that the title and opening paragraphs of a new story had already +been written on the machine. + +“Genius burns again!” sighed Jess, and went back to remove her damp hat +and jacket, and replenish the fire. Mother would want some tea by and +by, if she worked late into the evening, and Jess drew the kettle +forward. + +She stood her umbrella behind the entry door, and removed her overshoes +and put them under the range to dry. She had scarcely done so when a +stumbling foot sounded on the porch. She opened the door before the +visitor could knock, so that Mrs. Morse would not be disturbed. + +“Why, Mr. Chumley!” she exclaimed, recognizing the withered little man +who stood there. + +“Oh! you’re home, are ye?” squeaked the landlord. “I was here a little +while ago and nobody answered my knock, though I could hear that +typewriter going _rat, tat, tat_ all the time.” + +“I’m sorry, Mr. Chumley,” said Jess, hastily. “But you know how mother +is when she’s busy. She hears nothing.” + +“Humph!” + +“Won’t you come in?” hesitated Jess, still holding the door. The rent +was not due for a day or two, and he usually gave them a few days’ grace +if they did not happen to have it right in the nick of time. + +“I guess I will,” squeaked the landlord. + +He was a little whiffet of a man—“looked like a figure on a New Year’s +cake,” Bobby Hargrew said. His mouth was a mere slit in his gray, +wrinkled face, and his eyes were so close together that the sharp bridge +of his nose scarcely parted them. + +Some landlords hire agents to attend to their property and to the +collection of rents. Not so Mr. Chumley. He did not mind the trouble of +collecting, and he could fight off repairs longer than any landlord in +town. And the one-half of one per cent. collection fee was an item. + +“Think I’ve come ahead of time, eh?” he cackled, rubbing his blue +hands—as blue as a turkey’s foot, Jess thought—over the renewed fire. +“It ain’t many days before rent’s due again. If ye have it handy ye can +pay me now, Miss Josephine.” + +“It isn’t handy, Mr. Chumley. We are shorter than usual just now,” said +Jess, hating the phrase that comes so often to the lips of poverty. + +“Well! well! Can’t expect money before it’s due, I s’pose,” said the old +man, licking his thin lips. “And I’m afraid ye find it pretty hard to +meet your bills at ’tis?” he added, his head on one side like a gray old +stork. + +Jess flushed and then paled. What had _he_ heard? Had that Mrs. Brown, +in the grocer’s shop, told him already that Mr. Closewick had refused to +let her increase the bill? The girl looked at him without speaking, +schooling her features to betray nothing of the fear that gripped her +heart. + +“Hey?” squeaked Mr. Chumley. “Don’t ye hear well?” + +“I hear you, sir,” said Jess, glancing quickly to make sure that she had +closed the door tightly between the kitchen and the room in which her +mother was at work. + +“Well, I’m willin’ to help folks out—always,” said Mr. Chumley, his +withered cheek flushing. “If you’re finding the rent of this house too +much fer ye, why, there’s cheaper tenements in town. I own some of ’em +myself. Taxes is increased this year and I gotter go up on all +rentals——” + +“But, Mr. Chumley! we’ve lived in this cottage of yours ever since I can +remember. We’ve paid you a lot of rent. You surely are not going to +increase it now?” + +“I am, after December, Miss Josephine,” declared Mr. Chumley. “I gotter +do it. Beginnin’ with January first your mother will have to pay three +dollars more each month. You kin tell her that. I’m giving you a month’s +warning.” + +“Oh, Mr. Chumley! Surely you won’t put us out——” + +“I ain’t sayin’ nothing about putting you out, though your mother ain’t +as sure pay as some others. She’s slow. And she’s a woman alone. Hard to +git your money out of a widder woman. No. She can stay if she pays the +three dollars increase. Otherwise, I got the cottage as good as rented +right now to another party.” + +He moved toward the door, without lifting his eyes again to Jess’s face. + +“You’ll tell her that,” he said. “I’d like to do business with her +instead of with a half-grown gal. Don’t suppose you _could_ let me have +the next month’s rent to-night, eh?” + +“It isn’t due yet, Mr. Chumley,” Jess said, undecided whether to “get +mad” or to cry! + +“Well——Hello! who’s these?” + +There was another clatter of footsteps upon the porch as old Mr. Chumley +opened the outer door. Jess looked past him and saw a female and a male +figure crowding into the entry. For a moment she recognized neither. + +“That’s the girl!” exclaimed the woman, and her voice was sharp and +excited. + +“Hello!” muttered Mr. Chumley, and stood aside. “Here’s young +Vandergriff.” + +Jess looked on, speechless with amazement. She now recognized Griff, and +the woman with him was the fashionably attired lady who had stood beside +Jess at the counter in the butter and egg store. + +“Miss Jess! Miss Jess!” exclaimed Griff, quickly. “Did you open your +umbrella on the way home?” + +“I—I——” + +“Stupid!” exclaimed the woman. + +“Why, Griff, I didn’t open it.” + +“And you haven’t opened it yet?” + +“Why—no,” admitted the puzzled Jess. + +“Where is it?” cried the young man. “Now, you wait, Mrs. Prentice. I +know it will be all right.” + +“That’s all very fine, young man. But it isn’t your purse that is lost,” +exclaimed the woman, tartly. + +At last Jess understood. She started forward and her face flamed. + +“Oh!” she cried. “Did you lose that silver mesh purse?” + +“You see! She remembers it well enough,” said the woman. + +“I could scarcely forget it. You laid it on the counter between us. And +it was heavy with money,” said Jess. + +“Now, wait!” cried Griff, interposing, while old Chumley listened +eagerly, his little eyes snapping. “Did you set your umbrella aside +without opening it, Miss Morse?” + +“Yes, I did,” repeated Jess. + +“And you had it hanging by the hooked handle on the edge of the counter +right beside this lady, didn’t you?” + +“Yes, I did.” + +“I saw it. It’s just like a story book!” laughed Griff. “Get the +umbrella, Miss Morse. I knew it would be all right——” + +“I am not convinced that it is ‘all right,’ as you say, young man,” +spoke Mrs. Prentice, eyeing Jess’s flushed face, suspiciously. + +“Get it from behind the door there, Griff,” said the girl, hurriedly. +She, too, had heard of such an incident as this. Perhaps the purse had +been knocked from the counter into her open umbrella. But suppose it was +_not_ there? + + + + +CHAPTER IV—WHAT MRS. PRENTICE NEEDED + + +“Here it is! here’s the umbrella!” squeaked the officious Mr. Chumley, +coming out from behind the entry door, where he had been listening. + +All three of them—Jess, Griff, and the excited loser of the +purse—reached for the umbrella; but Griff was the first. + +“Hold on!” said he to the landlord. “Let me have that, sir. The purse +was lost in our store. We’re just as much interested in the matter as +anybody.” + +“I fail to see that, young man,” said Mrs. Prentice, tartly. + +She was not naturally of a mean disposition; but she was excited, and +the explanation Griff had given her of the loss of the purse had seemed +to her unimaginative mind “far-fetched,” to say the least. + +The boy half opened the umbrella and turned it over. Crash to the floor +fell the purse, and it snapped open as it landed. Out upon the linoleum +rolled the glistening coins—several of them gold pieces—that Jess had +noted so greedily in the egg store. + +“What did I tell you?” cried Griff, looking at Mrs. Prentice. + +That lady only exclaimed “Oh!” very loudly and looked aghast at the +rolling coins. Jess half stooped to gather up the scattered money. Then +she thought better of it and straightened up, looking straight into the +face of the owner of the purse. + +But old Mr. Chumley could not stand the lack of interest the others +seemed to show in what—to him—was the phase of particular importance +in the whole affair. There was real money rolling all over the Widow +Morse’s kitchen. He went down on his rheumatic old knees and scrambled +for it. Mr. Chumley worshipped money, anyway, and this was a +worshipper’s rightful attitude. + +“My, my, my!” he kept repeating. “How careless!” + +But Mrs. Prentice’s expression of countenance was swiftly changing. She +flushed deeply—much more deeply than had Jess; then she paled. She +picked up Mr. Chumley’s phrase, although she allowed the old man to pick +up the money. + +“I certainly _have_ been careless,” she said. “I—I must have nudged +that purse off the counter with my elbow. I—I——My dear girl! will you +forgive me?” + +She stepped forward and opened her arms to Jess. She was not only a well +dressed lady, but she was a handsome one, and her smile, when she chose +to allow it to appear, was winning. The anger and indignation Jess had +felt began to melt before this apology and the lady’s frank manner. + +“I—I suppose it was a natural mistake,” stammered Jess. + +“Not if she’d known you, Miss Jess,” Griff said, quite sharply for him. +“Nobody who knew you or your mother would have accused you of taking a +penny’s worth that didn’t rightfully belong to you.” + +Jess, whose heart was still sore from the blow she had received at Mr. +Closewick’s grocery, thought this was very kind of Griff. And they owed +his father, too! If there were tears standing in her eyes they were +tears of gratitude. + +“You see, my dear,” said the lady, her voice very pleasant indeed now, +“I did not know you as well as young Mr. Vandergriff seems to.” + +“We—we go to school together,” explained Jess, weakly, and found +herself drawn into the arms of the lady. + +Mr. Chumley rose up with a grunt and a groan; he had the purse and all +the coins. + +“Very careless! very careless!” he repeated. “And here is nearly a +hundred dollars, madam. Think of carelessly carrying a hundred dollars +in a silly purse like that! It is astonishing——” + +Mrs. Prentice had implanted a soft little kiss on Jess’s forehead and +shaken her a little playfully by both shoulders. + +“Don’t you bear malice, my dear,” she whispered. Then she turned briefly +to the old man. + +“You’re very kind, I’m sure,” she said, taking the purse into which Mr. +Chumley had crammed the money. “Thank you.” + +“Money comes too hard for folks to scatter it around,” complained the +landlord. + +Mrs. Prentice seemed to be much amused. “I should be more careful, I +suppose. I presume, now, I ought to count it to see if—if you gathered +it all up, sir?” she added, her eyes dancing. + +A little breath of red crept into the withered cheeks of the miserly old +man. “Well, well!” he ejaculated. “One can’t be too careful.” + +“I presume not,” said the lady. + +“And if the gal had known the money was there she might have been +tempted, ye see.” + +Jess flushed again and Griff looked angry; but Mrs. Prentice said, +coolly: + +“Were _you_ tempted, sir? Perhaps I had better count my money, after +all?” + +“Ahem! ahem!” coughed the old gentleman. “Perhaps you don’t know who I +am? There is a vast difference between me—my condition, I mean—and the +gal and her mother.” + +“Ah! Do you think so?” asked Mrs. Prentice, and then turned her back +upon him. “I should like to know you better, my dear—and your mother. I +hope you will show me that I am really forgiven by allowing me to call +some day——Oh! I couldn’t face your mother now. I know just how I would +feel myself if I had a daughter who had been accused as I accused you. I +certainly need to take care—as our friend here says.” + +“I am sure mother would be pleased to meet you,” stammered Jess. + +“You know, I am Mrs. Prentice. My brother-in-law, Patrick Sarsfield +Prentice, is editor and proprietor of the Centerport _Courier_.” + +Jess’s interest was doubly aroused now. So _this_ was the rich Mrs. +Prentice, whom they said really backed Centerport’s newest venture in +the newspaper field? + +“My mother has met Mr. Prentice—your brother-in-law,” she said, +diffidently. “You know, mother writes. She is Mary Morse.” + +“Ah, yes,” said the lady, preparing to follow Griff out. “I am really +glad to have known you—but I am sorry we began our acquaintance so +unfortunately.” + +“That—that is all right, Mrs. Prentice,” returned the girl. + +Griff called back goodnight to her over his shoulder. And at the gate he +parted from the lady whose carelessness had made all the trouble. + +“That’s just what I told you, Mrs. Prentice,” he said. “They’re all +right folks, those Morses. Yes, Mrs. Prentice, I’ll remember to send all +those things you ordered over in the morning—first delivery,” and he +went off, whistling. + + + + +CHAPTER V—THERE IS A GENERAL NEED + + +Mrs Prentice would have turned away from the gate of the Morse cottage +and gone her homeward way, too, had she not heard a cackling little +“ahem!” behind her. There was the wizened Mr. Chumley right on her +heels. + +“Very fortunate escape—very fortunate escape, indeed,” said the +landlord. + +“It was,” agreed the repentant lady. “I might have gone farther and done +much worse in my excitement.” + +“Oh, no,” said he. “I mean it was fortunate for the girl—and her +mother. Of course, they’ve got nothing, and had the money really been +missing it would have looked bad.” + +Mrs. Prentice eyed him in a way that would have made a person with a +thinner skin writhe a little. But Mr. Chumley’s feelings were not easily +hurt. + +“You evidently know all about those people?” said the lady, brusquely. + +“Oh, yes. They’ve been my tenants for some years. But rents are going up +in this neighborhood and——Well, I can get a much more satisfactory +tenant.” + +“You have been warning them out of the cottage?” asked Mrs. Prentice, +quickly. + +“Not just that,” said the old man, rubbing his hands together as though +he had an imaginary cake of soap between them and was busily washing the +Morse affair from his palms. “You see, I’ve told them I shall be obliged +to increase their rent at New Year’s.” + +“What do they pay you now?” + +Mr. Chumley told her frankly. He wasn’t ashamed of what he took for the +renting of that particular piece of property. In a business way, he was +doing very well, and business was all that mattered with Mr. Chumley. + +“But that’s better than _I_ can get for the same sort of a cottage in +this very vicinity,” exclaimed Mrs. Prentice. + +“Ah! these agents!” groaned Mr. Chumley, shaking his head. “They never +will do as well as they should for an owner. I found that out long ago. +If I was a younger man, Mrs. Prentice, I would take hold of your +property and get you twenty-five per cent. more out of it.” + +“Perhaps,” commented the lady. “And you intend to raise the rent on +these people?” + +“I have done so. Three dollars. I can get it. Besides, a woman alone +ain’t good pay,” said Chumley. “And they’re likely to fall behind any +time in the rent. Most uncertain income——” + +“Is it true that Mrs. Morse writes for a living?” + +“I don’t know what sort of a livin’ she makes. Foolish business. She’d +better take in washing, or go out to day’s work—that’s what she’d +better do,” snarled the old man. “This messin’ with pen, ink, an’ a +typewriter an’ thinkin’ she can buy pork an’ pertaters on the +proceeds——” + +“Perhaps she doesn’t care for pork and potatoes, my friend,” laughed the +lady, eyeing Mr. Chumley whimsically. + +But a flush had crept into the old man’s withered cheek again. He was on +his hobby and he rode it hard. + +“Poor folks ain’t no business to have finicky idees, or tastes,” he +declared. “They gotter work. That’s what they was put in the world +for—to work. There’s too many of ’em trying to keep their hands clean, +an’ livin’ above their means. Mary Morse is a good, strong, hearty +woman. She’d ought to do something useful with her hands instead of +doing silly things with her mind.” + +“So she writes silly things?” + +“Stories! Not a word of truth in ’em, I vum! I read one of ’em once,” +declared Mr. Chumley. “Widder Morse wants to ape these well-to-do folks +that live ’tother end o’ Whiffle Street. Keeps her gal in high school +when she’d ought to be in a store or a factory, earnin’ her keep. She’s +big enough.” + +“Do you think that’s a good way to bring up girls—letting them go to +work so early in life?” + +“Why not?” asked the old man, in wonder. “They kin work cheap and it +helps trade. Too much schoolin’ is bad for gals. They don’t need it, +anyway. And all the fal-lals and di-does they l’arn ’em in high school +now doesn’t amount to a row of pins in practical life. No, ma’am!” + +“But do these Morses have such a hard time getting along?” asked Mrs. +Prentice, trying to bring the gossipy old gentleman back to the main +subject. + +“They don’t meet their bills prompt,” snapped the landlord. “Now! here I +was in the house to-night. I suggested that the gal pay the rent for +December; it’ll be due in a day or two. And she didn’t have it. They’re +often late with it. I have to come two or three times before I get it, +some months. And I hear they owe the tradesmen a good deal.” + +“They are really in need of sympathy and help, then?” + +“How’s that?” demanded Mr. Chumley, with his cupped hand to his ear as +though he could not believe his own hearing. + +The lady repeated her remark. + +“There you go! You’re another of them folks that waste their substance. +I could see that by your keerless handlin’ of money,” croaked Mr. +Chumley. “The Widder Morse don’t need help—she needs sense, I tell ye.” + +“And do you know what you need, Mr. Chumley?” asked the lady, suddenly, +and with some asperity. + +“Heh?” + +“You need charity! We all need it. And we’ve gossiped enough about our +neighbors, I declare! Good night, Mr. Chumley,” she added, and turned +off through the side street toward her own home, leaving the old man to +wend his own way homeward, wagging his head and muttering discourteous +comments upon “all fool women.” + +Mrs. Prentice was a widow herself. But she had no mawkish +sentimentality. She had lived in the world too many years for that. She +was not given to charities of any kind. But the thought of Jess Morse +and her widowed mother clung to her mind like a limpet to a rock—even +after she had dismissed her maid that night and retired. + +“Just think!” she muttered, with her head on the pillow. “If that purse +had been really lost I might have made that young girl a lot of +trouble—and her mother. And she is such a frank, courageous little +thing! + +“We _do_ need more charity—the right kind. Somehow—yes—I _must_ do +something to help that girl.” + + + + +CHAPTER VI—IT ALL COMES OUT + + +Before morning old Jack Frost snapped his fingers and the whole world +was encased in ice. The sidewalks were a glare, the trees, and bushes, +to their tiniest twig, were as brittle as icicles, and a thin white +blanket had been laid upon the lawns along Whiffle Street. + +It was the first really cold snap of winter. Chet Belding came clumping +down to breakfast that Saturday morning. + +“Skating shoes!” exclaimed his sister, Laura. “What for, Sir Knight?” + +“I bet a feller can skate in the street—on the sidewalk—almost +anywhere this morning,” declared Chet, with enthusiasm. + +“You don’t mean to try it?” cried Laura. + +“I’ll eat my honorable grandmother’s hat if I don’t——” + +“Chetwood!” + +The horrified ejaculation came from behind the coffee percolator. Mrs. +Belding had been perusing her morning mail. Mr. Chetwood chuckled, but +graduated it into a pronounced cough. + +“Yes, ma’am!” said Chet, meekly. + +“What _kind_ of language is this that you bring to our table? Your +grandmother certainly was honorable——” + +“That’s an imitation of the stilted expressions of the Japs and Chinks,” +interrupted Chetwood. “Thought you’d like it. It’s formal, abounds in +flowery expressions, and may not be hastened. Quotation from Old +Dimple,” he added, sotto voce. + +“Please leave your grandmother out of it,” said Mrs. Belding, severely. +“And if you mean Professor Dimp, your teacher at Central High, do not +call him ‘Old Dimple’ in my presence,” which showed that Mother +Belding’s hearing was pretty acute. + +“Anyhow,” said Chet, “I’m going to try the ice after breakfast. Going to +get Lance and we’ll have some fun. Better get your skates, Laura.” + +“No. I’m going to the store with father—if we don’t both tumble down +and roll to the bottom of the hill at Market Street, like Jack and +Jill,” laughed his sister. + +“Teams can’t get over the asphalt this morning,” said her brother. “We +can coast clear to the elbow, I bet you.” + +He hurried through his breakfast and some time after Laura and her +father started for the jewelry store, in which the girl had certain +Saturday morning tasks to perform, the voices of Chet and his friends +awoke the echoes of the street as they skated on the asphalt. + +Whiffle Street was an easy slope toward the elbow, where Jess Morse and +her mother lived. Although the keen wind blew pretty strongly right up +the hill, when Laura and her father started for the store the boys were +holding hands and in a line that swept the street from curb to curb, +sailed gaily down the hill upon their skates. + +“That’s fun!” exclaimed Laura, her cheeks rosy with the wind, and her +eyes sparkling. + +“It’s just like life,” said her father, “It’s easy going down hill; but +see what a pull it is to get up again,” for Chet and his comrades had +then begun the homeward skate. + +Lance Darby, a fair-haired, rosy-cheeked lad, who was Chet’s particular +chum, was ahead and he came, puffingly, to a stop just before Laura. + +“This is great—if it wasn’t for the ‘getting back again.’ Good-morning, +Mr. Belding.” + +“Why don’t you boys rig something to tow you up the hill?” asked Laura, +laughing, and half hiding her face in her muff. + +“Huh!” ejaculated her brother, coming up, too. “How’d we rig it, Sis?” + +“Come on, Mother Wit!” laughed Lance. “You tell us.” + +“Why—I declare, Chet’s got just the thing standing behind the door in +his den,” cried Laura, her eyes twinkling. + +“What?” cried Chet “You’re fooling us, Laura. My snowshoes——” + +“Not them,” laughed Laura, preparing to go on with her father. + +“I know!” shouted Lance, slapping his chum suddenly on the back. He was +as familiar with Chet’s room as was Chet himself. + +“Out with it, then!” demanded Chet. + +“That big kite of yours. Wind’s directly up the hill. We’ll get it and +try the scheme. Oh, you Mother Wit!” shouted Lance, after Laura. “We’re +going after the kite.” + +And that suggestion of Laura’s was the beginning of Chet and Lance +Darby’s “mile-a-minute iceboat”—but more of that wonderful invention +later. + +Laura was halted again before she reached Market Street, and her father +went on without her, for it was now half-past eight. Jess Morse waved to +her from a window, and in a moment came running out in a voluminous +checked apron and a gay sweater-coat, hastily “shrugged” on. + +“Where were you last night?” cried Laura. “We missed you dreadfully at +the M. O. R. house.” + +“I—I really couldn’t come,” said her chum, hesitating just a little, +for it was hard not to be perfectly frank with Laura, who was always so +open and confidential with _her_. “Mother is so busy—she worked half +the night——” + +“Genius burns the midnight oil, eh?” laughed Laura. + +“Yes, indeed. And now I’m about to make her toast and brew her tea, and +she will take it, propped up in bed, and read over the work she did last +night. Saturdays, when I am home, is mother’s ‘lazy day.’ She says she +feels quite like a lady of leisure then.” + +“But you should have come to the first big reception of the winter,” +complained her chum. + +“Couldn’t. But I heard that there was something very wonderful going to +happen, just the same,” cried Jess. + +“What do you mean?” + +“About the prize.” + +“My goodness me! Somebody is a telltale,” cried Laura, laughing. “We +were not going to spread the news until Monday morning.” + +Jess told her how the rumor of the prize had come to her ears. + +“No use—it’s all out, and all over town, if Bobby Hargrew got hold of +it.” + +“But what’s Mrs. Mabel Kerrick going to give the two hundred dollars +_for?_” + +“Oh, Jess! it’s a great scheme, I believe—and it’s mine,” said Laura, +proudly. + +“But you don’t tell me _what_ it is,” cried her chum, impatiently. + +“It’s to be given for the best play written by a Central High girl, +between now and the first of January. Any girl can compete—even the +freshies. And then we’ll produce it, and get money for the M. O. R. +building fund.” + +“A play!” gasped Jess, her face flushing. + +“That’s it. And the Lockwood girls are going to try for it—and so’s +Nell Agnew. Will you, Jess? Just think of two hundred dollars!” + +“I am thinking of it,” replied her chum. “Oh, Laura! I’m thinking of it +all the time.” + +She said it so earnestly that Laura stared at her in amazement. + +“My dear child!” she cried. “Does two hundred dollars mean so much to +you?” + +“I—I can’t tell you how _hard_ I want to win it,” gasped Jess. + +“Well! I’m going to try for it, too,” laughed Laura, suddenly, seizing +her friend’s arm and giving it an affectionate squeeze. “But I _do_ +hope, if I can’t win it, that you do!” + +“Thank you, Laura!” replied her friend, gravely. + +“And your mother’s a writer—you must have talent, too, for writing, +Jess.” + +“That doesn’t follow, I guess,” laughed Jess. “You know that Si Jones +talks like a streak of greased lightning—so Chet says, anyway—but his +son, Phil, is a deaf-mute. Talent for writing runs in families the same +as wooden legs.” + +“So you do not believe that even a little reflected glory bathes your +path through life?” chuckled Laura. + +“I am not sure that I would want to be a professional writer like +mother,” sighed Jess, her mind dwelling on the trouble they were in. +“There is a whole lot to it besides ‘glory.’” + +“Well, if I can’t write the winning play, I hope you do, Jess,” repeated +Laura, going on after her father. + +Jess returned to her work indoors. From the window, after a little, she +caught sight of a whole string of boys sliding up the hill of Whiffle +Street on their skates, the big kite which Chet and Lance had raised +supplying the motive power. + +Chet beckoned her out to have a part in the fun; but much more serious +matters filled Jess Morse’s mind. When her mother finally arose, and +folded and sealed and addressed the packet containing her night’s work, +Jess had to go out and mail it. + +“I really believe that is a good story, Jess,” said her mother, who was +sanguine of temperament. She had a childish faith in the success of +every manuscript she sent out; and usually when her chickens “came home +to roost” her spirits withstood the shock admirably. + +“Now, don’t forget the list of things you were to get at Mr. +Closewick’s,” added Mrs. Morse. Jess had kept her evening’s troubles +strictly to herself. “I believe he sent in a bill, but you tell him how +it is; we’ll have money in a day or two.” + +“But, Mother, we owe other stores, too,” murmured Jess. + +“I know it, child. But don’t remind me——” + +“And the rent will be due. Mr. Chumley was here last night——” + +“Not for his rent so soon?” cried the irresponsible lady. + +“But he is going to raise our rent—three dollars more after January +first.” + +“Oh, how mean of him!” exclaimed Mrs. Morse. + +“I don’t see how we are going to get it, Mother,” said Jess, worriedly. + +“Well, that’s true. But we’ve got another month before we need to cross +_that_ bridge.” + +That was Mrs. Morse’s way. Perhaps it was as well that she allowed such +responsibilities to slip past her like water running off the feathers of +a duck. + +“And if Mr. Closewick shouldn’t want to—to trust us any longer, +Mother?” suggested Jess. That was as near as she could get to telling +the good lady what had really happened the night before. + +“Why! that would be most mortifying. He won’t do it, though. But if he +does, we’ll immediately begin trading elsewhere, I don’t really think +Mr. Closewick always gives us good weight, at that!” + +Jess could only sigh. It was always the way. Mrs. Morse saw things from +a most surprising angle. She was just as honest—intentionally—as she +could be, but the ethics of business dealing were not quite straight in +her mind. + +And something must be done this very day to put food in the larder. What +little Jess had brought in from Mr. Vandergriff’s store would not last +them over Sunday. And her mother seemed to think that everybody else +would be just as sanguine of her getting a check as she was herself. + +“I do wish you had been able to get steady work with the _Courier_,” +spoke Jess, as she prepared to go out. + +“That would have been nice,” admitted her mother. “And I am in a +position to know a good deal of what goes on socially on the Hill. I am +welcome in the homes of the very best people, for your father’s sake, +Jess. He was a very fine man, indeed.” + +“And for your own sake, too, Mamma!” cried Jess, who was really, after +all, very proud of her mother’s talent. + +“It would have been nice,” repeated Mrs. Morse. “And certainly the +_Courier_ is not covering the Hill as well as might be. I pointed that +out to Mr. Prentice; but he is limited in expenditures, I suppose, the +paper being a new venture.” + +It was on the tip of the girl’s tongue to tell her mother of the visit +of Mr. Prentice’s sister-in-law the evening before. But why disturb her +mother’s mind with all that trouble? So she said nothing, kissed her +fondly, and sallied forth to beard in their lairs “the butcher, the +baker, and the candlestick maker.” And, truly, there were few girls in +Centerport that day with greater lions in their way than those in the +path of Jess Morse. + + + + +CHAPTER VII—THE HAND HELD OUT + + +When Jess came out of the house there was a group of her +schoolmates—and not all of them boys—at the foot of the Whiffle Street +hill. Being towed by Chet’s big kite had became a game that all hands +wanted to try. But the sun was getting warmer and the icy street would +soon be slushy and the skates would cut through. + +“I’ve had enough,” said Bobby Hargrew, removing her skates when she +spied Jess. “The policeman has warned us once, and he’ll be mad next +time he comes around if we’re here still.” + +“Better get your skates, Jess, and try it just once,” urged Chet +Belding, who was very partial to his sister’s closet chum. + +“I can’t, Chet,” replied Jess. “I must do my Saturday’s marketing.” + +“Hullo! here’s Short and Long!” cried Bobby, as a very short boy with +very brisk legs came sliding down the hill with a big bundle under his +arm. + +Billy Long was an industrious youngster who only allowed himself leisure +to keep up in athletics after school hours, because he liked to earn +something toward his family’s support. + +“Stop and try a ride, Billy,” urged Lance Darby, holding the cord of the +tugging kite. + +“Can’t. Going on an errand.” + +“Hey, Billy! how’s your dyspepsia?” demanded another of the boys. + +Billy grinned. Bobby exclaimed: + +“Now, don’t tell me that Short and Long ever has trouble with his +digestion—I won’t believe it!” + +“He sure had a bad case of it yesterday,” drawled Chet Belding. “At +least, so Mr. Sharp said. Billy spelled it with an ‘i’.” + +“Let me use your knife a minute, please?” asked Bobby, who was still +struggling with a refractory strap. “No! just toss it to me.” + +“That’s all right,” returned the small boy, with a grin, as he walked +over and carefully handed Bobby the knife. “I don’t take any chances +with girls in throwing, or catching. All my sister can do is to throw a +fit, or catch a cold!” + +“Ow! isn’t that a wicked statement?” cried Bobby. “You know it isn’t so. +But you’re right down ignorant, Billy. You’re just as bad as Postscript +was in Gee Gee’s class one day this week.” + +“Who’s ‘Postscript’?” demanded Lance. “That’s a new one on me.” + +“Why,” said Bobby, her black eyes twinkling, “I mean Adeline Moore. +_That’s_ a postscript, isn’t it?” + +“What happened to Addie?” asked Jess, as the others laughed. + +“Why, she got befuddled in reciting something about an Indian uprising +that came in our American History hour. It’s all review stuff, you know. + +“‘What is it that you call an Indian woman, Adeline?’ Gee Gee asked, +real sharp. + +“And Addie jumped, and stammered, and finally said: + +“‘A squaw, please, Miss Carrington.’ + +“‘And what do you call her baby, then?’ snapped Gee Gee. + +“‘A—a squawker,’ says Addie, and the poor thing got a black mark for +it. Wasn’t that mean?” + +“Miss Grace G. Carrington was in one of her moods,” observed Chet, when +the laugh had subsided. + +“She’s subject to moods,” Lance drawled. + +“No, she’s not!” cried Bobby Hargrew. “She only had one mood—the +imperative—and we girls are all subject to that,” and she sighed, for +Bobby was frequently in trouble with the very strict assistant principal +of Central High whom she disrespectfully referred to as “Gee Gee.” + +Jess and her friend had left the others now and were approaching Market +Street. Like everybody else on the walks, they had to be careful how +they stepped, and it was with many a laugh and gibe that Bobby Hargrew +beguiled the way. Jess, however, was serious once more. + +“Are you really going in for that prize Mrs. Kerrick is going to put up +for us?” demanded Bobby. + +“Do you know what it’s for?” + +“No—I haven’t heard that,” said the younger girl. “But for two hundred +dollars I’d learn tatting—or darn socks. Daddy says I ought to learn to +darn his. What’s it all about, anyway? I suppose Laura knows?” + +“Yes. It’s a play. The girl who writes the best one, that can be acted +by us boys and girls of Central High, is to get the prize.” + +“Gee! won’t that be nuts for Miss Gould?” cried Bobby. “You know, she +tried us out in blank verse the other day, and I made a hit. My stately +lines were spoken of with commendation. And when she told us to bring in +a rhyme, or poetry—whichever we had the courage to call it—I wanted to +read mine out loud. But she wouldn’t let me. She said she had not +intended to start a school for humorous poets.” + +“What did you hand in?” asked Jess, smiling. + +“Want to hear it?” cried Bobby, eagerly, digging into her pocket +which—like a boy’s—was always filled with a conglomeration of +articles. “Listen here!” she added, drawing forth a crumpled paper. +“This is called ‘Such is Life’ and really, I was hurt that Miss Gould +considered it so lightly,” and she began to read at once: + + “‘William Wright was often wrong + And Thomas Goode was bad; + While Griffith Smiley, odd to state, + Was almost always sad. + Jedediah Rich was very poor, + While Ozias Poor was rich, + And Eliphalet Q. Carpenter + Earned his living digging ditch. + Tom White was black Jim Black was white, + And Jose Manuel Green was brown; + While Ching Ling Blu was yellow, + As was known all over town!’ + +“I’d have made more of it,” added Bobby, “only Miss Gould didn’t seem to +care for that kind of poetry. And I suppose if I tried my hand at a play +that I would be unable to hit the popular taste,” and she sighed. + +“I guess they won’t demand verse from us in this play,” giggled Jess. +“And that is most atrocious, Bobby.” + +“Think so?” returned her friend, her eyes twinkling. “And you’ll do a +whole lot better when it comes to writing your own play, I s’pose?” + +“It won’t be in verse—blank, or otherwise,” admitted Jess. + +“You really _are_ going to try for it?” + +“Why, Bobby, I’d love to win that two hundred dollars. I don’t suppose I +can. All the girls will try, I expect, and Laura, or Nell Agnew, will +get it. But I want that two hundred dollars worse than I ever wanted +anything in my life!” + +She spoke so earnestly that Bobby was impressed. The latter glanced at +her sidewise and a shrewd little smile hovered about her lips for a +moment, which Jess did not observe. + +“Where are you bound for, Jess?” she asked abruptly. + +“Marketing.” + +“You trade at Heuffler’s market, don’t you? That’s right around the +corner from father’s store. Why don’t you ever patronize _our_ place for +groceries. I’m drumming up trade,” said Bobby, grinning. + +“I guess our trade wouldn’t amount to much,” said Jess, flushing a +little. + +“‘Every little bit added to what you’ve got makes just a little bit +more,’” quoted Bobby. “And let me tell you, Mr. Thomas Hargrew keeps +first-class goods and only asks a fair profit.” + +Jess laughed; but she caught at the straw held out to her, too. She knew +it would be useless to go to Mr. Closewick’s, where they usually traded. +Was it honest to try and obtain credit at another grocery? + +“I am afraid your father wouldn’t welcome me as a customer,” said Jess, +gravely. “Ours isn’t always a cash trade. Mother’s money comes so very +irregular that we have to run a bill at the grocery and the market and +other places.” + +“Come on and give us a sample order,” urged Bobby. “Father will be glad +to get another book account. Now, if _you_ were running a store I’d +patronize it! We Central High girls ought to work together—just like a +lodge. Come on.” + +She fairly dragged Jess by the hand into the store on Market Street, +over the door of which Mr. Hargrew’s name was displayed. The clerks were +busy at the moment, but Mr. Hargrew was at his desk in the corner. Bobby +ran to him and whispered quickly: + +“Here she is, Father. You remember what that Mrs. Brown said last night +about old Closewick refusing her credit after her mother had traded +there so long. And I am sure Jess is in trouble and needs help. Do wait +on her, Father.” + +“If you say so, Bob,” returned the big man, smiling down upon the girl +who, he often said, “was as good as any boy.” “You’ll have to come into +this store and share the business when you get older; and you might as +well learn to judge customers now. And, if they _need_ help——” + +He came out to Jess Morse immediately, smiling and bowing like the suave +storekeeper he was. + +“Glad to see you, Miss, What can we do for you this morning?” + +“Why—why,” stammered Jess, “Bobby urged me to come in; but, really, Mr. +Hargrew, it seems like asking a big favor of you, for we have never +traded here much.” + +“We are always glad to make a new connection,” said the storekeeper, + +“But mother—we are obliged to ask for credit——” + +“And that is what I have to do very frequently myself,” interposed Mr. +Hargrew, still smiling. “What is it you wish, Miss Morse? Your credit is +good here, I assure you. You have brought the very best of +references—my daughter’s. Now, what is the first article?” + +Jess could have cried with relief! Somehow she felt that Bobby and her +father must know of her need, yet not a word or sign from either +betrayed that fact. And one would scarcely suspect harum-scarum Bobby +Hargrew of engineering such a delicate bit of business. + +Nevertheless, Jess was vastly encouraged by this incident. She went into +the meat shop and purchased a small piece of lamb for over Sunday and +Mr. Heuffler did not ask her for his bill. She hoped that “something +would turn up” and watched the mails very eagerly, hoping that a +fugitive check might come. But the postman never came near the little +cottage at the elbow in Whiffle Street, all that day. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII—THE RACE IS ON + + +There was a rustle of expectancy—upon the girls’ side, at least—at +Assembly on Monday morning. Rumors of the prize offered for the best +play written by a girl of Central High had aroused great interest and +the school eagerly awaited Mr. Sharp’s brief remarks regarding it. + +“It is not our wish,” said the principal, in the course of his speech, +“to restrict the contestants in their choice of subjects, or in methods +of treatment. The play may be pure comedy, comedy-drama, tragedy—even +farce—or melodrama. Miss Gould will confine her lectures this week in +English to the discussion of plays and play-making. Candidates for +fame—and for Mrs. Kerrick’s very handsome prize—may learn much if they +will faithfully attend Miss Gould’s classes. And, of course, it is +understood that there must be no neglect of the regular school work by +those striving for the laurel of the playwright. + +“I doubt if we have any budding female Shakespeares among us, yet I +realize that the youthful mind naturally slants towards tragedy and the +redundant phrases of the Greek and Latin masters, as read in their +translation; but let me advise all you young ladies who wish to compete +for the prize, to select a simple subject and treat it simply. + +“Have your play display human nature as you know it, and realism without +morbidness.” + +The girls of Central High who had heretofore excelled in composition +naturally were looked upon as favorites in this race for dramatic +honors. Among the Juniors, Laura Belding and Nellie Agnew always +received high marks for such work. They possessed the knack of +composition and were what Bobby Hargrew called “fluid writers.” + +“If it was a jingle or limerick, I’d stand a chance,” sighed Bobby to +herself. “But think of the sustained effort of writing a whole play! +Gee! two hours and a half long. It would break my heart to sit still +long enough to do it.” + +Jess Morse had never tried to more than pass in English composition. For +the very reason, perhaps, that she had seen the practical side of such a +career at home, she had not, like so many girls of her age, contemplated +seriously literary employment for herself. + +Lily Pendleton was known to have once essayed an erotic novel, and had +read a few chapters to some of her closer friends. Bobby said it should +have been written on yellow paper with an asbestos pad under it to save +scorching Miss Pendleton’s desk. Of course, Lily would attempt a play in +the most romantic style. + +The boys began to hatch practical jokes anent the play-writing before +the week was out; and one afternoon Chet Belding appeared in a group of +his sister’s friends, and with serious face declared he had with him the +outline and introductory scene of Laura’s play, its caption being: + +“The Poisoned Bathing-Suit; or, The Summer Boarder’s Revenge.” + +Some of the girls—and not alone the Juniors like Laura, Nellie and +Jess—were very serious about this matter of the play. Mrs. Kerrick’s +prize spurred every girl who had the least ability in that direction to +begin writing a dramatic piece. Some, of course, did not get far; but +the main topic of discussion out of school hours among the girls of +Central High was the play and the prize. + +Jess talked it over with her mother, and Mrs. Morse grew highly excited. + +“Why, Josephine, dear, if you could win that prize it would be splendid! +Then you could have a new party dress—and a really nice one—and the +furs I have been hoping to buy you for two seasons. Dear, dear! what a +lot of things you really could get for that sum.” + +“I guess it would help us out a whole lot,” admitted the girl “We need +so many things——” + +“Why, I shouldn’t allow you to use a cent of it for the household—or +for me,” cried her mother. “No, indeed.” + +“I haven’t won it yet,” sighed Jess. “But I guess if I did win it you’d +have to take a part of it, Mother.” + +“Nonsense, child!” cried Mrs. Morse. “We’ll have some checks in shortly. +And we sha’n’t starve meanwhile. Now, let us look over this plot you +have evolved and perhaps I can suggest some helpful points—and show you +how to write brisk dialogue. That is something the editors always praise +me for—although I have never dared try a play myself. It is so hard to +get a hearing before a really responsible manager.” + +Outside help for the girls was not debarred by the terms of the contest, +so long as the main thread of plot in each play was original with the +author, and she actually did the work. Jess listened to the practical +suggestions of her mother in relation to her play; but all the time she +had upon her mind, too, the domestic difficulties that seemed to have +culminated just now in a single great billow of trouble. + +No money had come in. She had been obliged to go once more to Mr. +Hargrew for groceries, and to the meat store and to Mr. Vandergriff’s. +Her mother could talk in her cheerful manner about what she could do +with the two hundred dollar prize if she earned it. But Jess was very +sure that she would not spend it for personal adornment—although no +girl at Central High loved to be dressed in the mode more than Jess +Morse. + +“If such a _darling_ thing should happen as my winning the prize, I’d +put it all in the bank for a nest-egg,” she thought. “Then, when checks +do not come in, we would not have to ask for credit. We’d pay up all +debts and start square with the world. And then—and then I’d be +perfectly happy!” + +The first of the month arrived, and with it Mr. Chumley. Mrs. Morse was +busy at her desk and said: + +“Just tell him, Josephine, that we will have it shortly. He needn’t come +again. I’ll let you take it around to his house to him when I get it.” + +But this did not suit the old man, and he pushed his way, for once, into +the presence of the literary lady. + +“Now, see here! Now, see here!” he cackled. “This won’t do at all, +Widder—this won’t do at all! I want my money, and I want it prompt. And +if you can’t pay your present rent prompt, how do you expect to pay it +next month, when you must find three dollars more? Now, tell me that, +Ma’am?” + +“Really, Mr. Chumley! You are too bad,” complained Mrs. Morse. “I am so +hard at work. You quite drive the ideas out of my head. I—I don’t know +what train of thought I was following.” + +Mr. Chumley snorted. “You’d better be huntin’ the advertisement columns +of a newspaper for a job, Widder,” he said. “Them ‘trains of thought’ of +yours won’t never carry you nowhere. I gotter have my money. How are you +going to get it?” + +“I have never failed to pay you heretofore, have I?” asked the lady, +bringing out her handkerchief now. “I think this is too bad——” + +“But I want money!” + +“And you shall have it, I have considerable owing to me—oh, yes! a good +deal more than sufficient to pay your rent, Mr. Chumley. You will get +it.” + +That was a very unsatisfactory interview for the landlord, and +particularly so for Mrs. Morse. She complained when he had gone to Jess: + +“Now, my day is just spoiled. I’m all at loose ends. It will cost me a +day’s work. Really, Josephine, if only people wouldn’t nag me so for +money!” + +And Jess strove to shield her all that she could from such interviews. +Mrs. Morse needed to live alone in a world with her brain-children. +Meanwhile her flesh-and-blood child had to fight her battles with the +landlord and tradesmen. + +It was amid such sordid troubles that Jess evolved the idea for her +play. The butterfly is born of the ugly chrysalis; out of this unlovely +environment grew a pretty, idyllic comedy which, although crude in +spots, and lacking the professional touch which makes a dramatic piece +“easy acting,” really showed such promise that Mrs. Morse acclaimed its +value loudly. + +“Oh, Mother! don’t praise me so much,” begged Jess. “The theme is good, +I know. But it scares me. How can I ever dress it up to make it sound +like a real play? It sounds so jerky and imperfect—that part that I +have written, I mean.” + +“There is something a dramatic critic told me once that may be true,” +replied her mother. “It was that the piece which reads smoothly seldom +acts well; whereas a play that ‘gets over the footlights’ usually reads +poorly. You see, action cannot be read aloud; and it is the action that +accompanies the words of a dramatic piece that makes those words tell. + +“I am not sure that Mr. Sharp and his committee will consider your play +the best written, from a literary standpoint; but I understand that they +have invited Mr. Monterey, the manager of the Centerport Opera House, to +read the plays, too. And you, Josephine, write for _him;_ for they will +depend upon his judgment in the choice of the acting qualities of the +piece.” + +This was good advice, as Jess very well knew. And she could barely keep +her mind sufficiently upon her school work to pass the eagle scrutiny of +Miss Grace G. Carrington, so wrapped up was she in the play. Not even to +Laura did she confide any facts regarding the piece. Some of the girls +openly discussed what they had done, and what they hoped; but Jess kept +still. + +Thursday came and in her mother’s morning mail was a letter with the +card of the Centerport _Courier_ in the corner. + +“Now, what can that be?” drawled Mrs. Morse, when Jess eagerly brought +it to her. “They buy no fugitive matter, and I haven’t sent them +anything since having my interview with Mr. Prentice. I really would +have been happier to see a letter like that from one of the New York +magazines; it might have contained a check in that case,” and she slowly +slit the envelope. + +But Jess waited in the background with suppressed eagerness in her face +and attitude. At once her thought had leaped to Mrs. Prentice. She had +not told her mother a word about that lady’s visit on Friday evening, +nor her errand to the house. But if Mrs. Prentice was really “the power +behind the throne” in the _Courier_ office, she might easily put some +regular work in the way of Mrs. Morse. + +“Listen to this, child!” exclaimed her mother, having glanced hastily +through the letter. “Perhaps I had better take this—for a time, at +least. I don’t like the idea of being tied down—it might interfere with +my magazine work——” + +“Oh, Mother!” cried Jess. “What is it?” + +“Listen: Addressed to me, ‘Dear Madam:—Will reconsider your suggestion +of covering Hill section for society news. Can afford at least five +dollars’ worth of space through the week, and perhaps something extra on +Sunday. Come and see me again. Respectfully, P. S. Prentice.’ Well!” + +“Oh, Mother!” repeated Jess. “What a splendid chance!” + +“Why, Josephine, not so very splendid,” said her mother, slowly. “He +only guarantees me five dollars weekly. That is not much.” + +“It will feed us—if we are careful,” gasped Jess. + +“Goodness, Josephine! What a horribly practical child you are getting to +be. I don’t know what the girls of to-day are coming to. Now, that would +never have appealed to me when I was your age. I never knew how papa and +mamma got food for us.” + +Jess might have told her that conditions had not changed much since her +girlhood! + +“But five dollars regularly will help us a whole lot, Mother,” she +urged. + +“And it will necessitate my going out considerably—and appearing at +receptions and places. Really—I have refused a number of invitations +because of my wardrobe. My excuse of ‘work’ is not always strictly +true,” sighed Mrs. Morse. + +“But do, _do_ try it, Mother!” cried Jess. + +“Well,” said the lady, “it may do no harm. And it may be an opening for +something better. But, really, nobody must know that I am a mere society +reporter on the Centerport _Courier_.” + + + + +CHAPTER IX—A SKATING PARTY + + +The girls of the Junior class in modern history were filing out on +Friday. + +“What do you know about that?” hissed Bobby Hargrew, in the ears of her +chums. “Gee Gee is getting meaner and meaner every day she lives.” + +“What did she do to you now?” demanded Dora Lockwood, one of the twins. + +“Didn’t you notice? She sent Postscript to hunt up Moscow on the map of +Russia. Now! you know very well that Moscow was burned in 1812!” + +“You ridiculous child!” exclaimed Nellie Agnew. “You will never do +anything in school but make jokes and try the patience of your +teachers.” + +“I am no friend to teachers, I admit,” confided Bobby to Dora and +Dorothy. “Don’t you think they ought to be made to earn their money?” + +“Any teacher who is so unfortunate as to have you in his, or her, class, +is bound to earn all the salary coming to them,” declared Dorothy. + +“Bad grammar—but you don’t know any better,” declared the harum-scarum. +“You’re just as bad as Freddie Atkinson. Dimple asked him who compiled +the dictionary, and Freddie said, ‘Daniel Webster.’ + +“‘No, sir! Noah!’ snapped Dimple. + +“‘Oh, Professor!’ exclaimed Fred. ‘I thought Noah compiled the Ark?’” + +As the girls were laughing over this story of Bobby Hargrew’s, Eve Sitz +came up briskly. Laura and Jess were near at hand, and in a moment a +group of the Juniors who always “trained together” were in animated +discussion. + +“Yes. It’s frozen hard. Otto was on it with a pair of horses and our +pung,” declared Eve, who came in every morning from the country on the +train, and whose father owned a big farm over beyond Robinson’s Woods. + +“What’s frozen?” demanded Dora. + +“Peveril Pond. It’s as smooth as glass. I want you to all come over on +Saturday afternoon; we’ll have a lot of fun,” declared Eve. + +“You’re always inviting us to the farm, Evangeline,” said Nellie Agnew; +“I should think your father and mother would be tired of having us +overrun the place.” + +“Never you mind about them,” declared Evangeline, smiling. “They love to +have young folks around. Now, remember! Saturday at noon the autos will +start from the Beldings’ front door—if it doesn’t snow.” + +“Oh, snow!” cried Bobby. “I hope not yet.” + + “‘Beautiful snow! he may sing whom it suits— + I object to the stuff, ‘cause it soaks through my boots!’” + +“It’s too bad,” said Jess, “that Mrs. Kerrick didn’t offer a prize for +verse. Bobby would win it, sure!” + +“Never you mind,” said Bobby, with mock solemnity. “I may surprise you +all yet. I am capable of turning out tragic stuff—you bet your boots!” + +“Mercy, Bobby! how slangy you are getting,” murmured Nell Agnew, the +doctor’s daughter. + +“You think I cannot be serious?” demanded Bobby, very gravely. “Listen +here. Here is what I call ‘The Lay of the Last Minorca’—not the ‘Last +Minstrel!’ + +“‘She laid the still white form beside those that had gone before,’” +quoth Bobby, in sepulchral tone. + +“‘No sob, no sigh, forced its way from her heart, throbbing as though it +would burst. + +“‘Suddenly a cry broke the stillness of the place—a single +heartbreaking shriek, which seemed to well up from her very soul, as she +left the place: + +“‘“Cut, cut, cut-ah-out!” + +“‘She would lay another egg to-morrow.’” + +“You ridiculous girl!” exclaimed Laura. “Aren’t you ever serious at +all?” + +“My light manner hides a breaking hear-r-r-t,” croaked Bobby. “You don’t +know me, Laura, as I really _are!_” + +“Don’t want to,” declared Laura Belding, briskly. “It must be awful to +be a humorist. All right, Eve. We’ll come on Saturday. Chet will see Mr. +Purcell about the big car. Lake Luna is frozen only at the edges, and is +unsafe. But we will have a good time at Peveril Pond.” + +Fortunately Mrs. Morse received payment for a story in a magazine that +week or Jess would never have had the heart to join the skating party. +But the sum realized was sufficient to settle with Mr. Closewick, pay +the month’s rent of the cottage, and pay a part of each bill at Mr. +Heuffler’s and Mr. Vandergriff’s shops. + +These payments left Jess and her mother almost as badly off as they were +before. And there was the new account started at Mr. Hargrew’s. But Chet +Belding urged Jess very strongly to be his guest on Saturday, and there +was really no reason why Jess should not go. Her mother had seen Mr. +Prentice and begun furnishing items to the _Courier_ from day to day; +and the girl felt that, with care, they might be able to keep from +getting so deeply into debt again. + +No snow had fallen up to Saturday noon; but it was cold, and the clouds +threatened a feathery fall before many hours. The young folk who +gathered in the big hall of the Belding house thought little of the +cold, however. There were warm robes and blankets in the Belding auto +and in the sightseeing machine that Mr. Purcell had sent. Chet, in his +bearskin coat, looked like the original owner of the garment—especially +when he pulled the goggles down from the visor of his cap, and prepared +to go out to the car. + +“My dear fellow,” drawled Prettyman Sweet, the dandy of Central High, +who was of the party, “you look howwidly fewocious, doncher know! I +wouldn’t dwess in such execrable taste for any sum you could +mention—no, sir!” + +“Beauty’s only skin deep, they say, Pretty,” responded Chet “So, if you +were flayed, you might look quite human yourself.” + +“Purt” was gorgeous in a Canadian skating suit—or so the tailor who +sold it to him had called it. It was all crimson and white, with a +fur-edged velvet cap that it really took courage to wear, and fur-topped +boots. And his gloves! they were marvels. One of them lying on the floor +of the Beldings’ hall gave Topsy, Mrs. Belding’s pet terrier, such a +fright that she pretty nearly barked her head off. + +She made so much noise that Lance grabbed at her and tried to put her +out of the room, Topsy still barking furiously. + +“You look out!” drawled Bobby Hargrew. “One end of that dog bites, +Lance!” + +They turned Purt around and around to get the beauties of his costume at +every angle. And they “rigged” him sorely. But the exquisite was used to +it; he would only have felt badly if they had ignored his new “get-up.” + +“It’s quite the thing, I assure you,” he declared. “And, weally, one +should pay some attention to the styles. You fellows, weally, dress in +execrable taste.” + +When the party was complete they bundled into their wraps again and +piled into the machines. Mrs. Belding had retired to her own room until +the “devastation of the barbarians,” as she called it, was past; but +Mammy Jinny straightened up the hall and dining room after the young +folk with great cheerfulness. + +“Yo’ know how yo’ was yo’self, Miss Annie, w’en yo’ was oberflowin’ wid +de sperits ob youth,” she said, soothingly. + +“I am sure I never overflowed quite so boisterously,” sighed Mrs. +Belding. + +“No. Yo’ warn’t one ob de oberflowin’ kind, Miss Annie,” admitted the +old black woman. “But Mars’ Chet an’ Miss Laura, and dem friends ob +theirs, sartain sure kin kick up a mighty combobberation—yaas’m!” + +The wintry wind blew sharply past the crowd of Central High Juniors as +the Belding auto and the bigger machine struck a fast pace when once +they had cleared the city. There was lots of fun in the autos on the way +to the Sitz farm; but they were all glad to tumble out there and crowd +into the big kitchen “for a warm.” + +The Swiss family were the most hospitable people in the world. Eve’s +mother had a great heap of hot cakes ready for them, and there was +coffee, too, to drive out the cold. + +“We’re going to take Patrick down to the pond with us to keep up the +fires while we’re skating,” Eve told Laura. Eve looked very pretty in +her skating rig, and she was a splendid skater, too. “Father and Otto +are somewhere down in the woods already. This cold weather coming on +marks the time for hog killing, and some of the porkers have been +running in the woods, fattening on the mast. There is an old mother hog +that has gotten quite wild, and has a litter of young ones with her that +are hard to catch. They may have to shoot her. So if you hear a gun go +off, don’t be alarmed.” + +The hired man, who stayed with the Sitzes all the year around, was a +comical genius and the boys knew him well. As they started on the walk +to the pond, Chet asked him: + +“Do you skate yourself, Pat?” + +“Sure, and it’s an illegant skater I used to be when I was young,” +declared Pat; “barrin’ that I niver had thim murderin’ knives on me +feet, but used ter skate on a bit of board down Donnegan’s Hill.” + +“He’ll never own up that he doesn’t know a thing,” whispered Eve to +Laura and Jess, as the boys laughed over this statement of the Irishman. +“He was planting potatoes in the upper field, and all by himself, last +spring, and a man drove along the road, and stopped and asked him what +kind of potatoes they were. + +“‘Sure, I know,’ says Patrick. + +“‘Then what kind are they?’ repeated the neighbor. + +“‘Sure, they’re raw ones, Mr. Hurley,’ says he, and Hurley came to the +house roaring with laughter over it. Nothing feazes Patrick.” + +The long, sloping hill, under the chestnuts and oaks, would have made a +splendid coasting place; only there was no snow on the ground. + +“But when the snow _does_ come,” cried Dora Lockwood, “if the pond is +still frozen over, won’t it be a great course?” + +“The ice is all right now, at any rate,” Eve reassured them. “And there +isn’t a spring hole in the entire pond, Otto says.” + +Patrick had brought an axe and, with the help of some of the boys, soon +had a big bonfire burning on the edge of the pond. Meanwhile the other +boys helped the girls with their skate-straps, and then got on their own +skates. + +The ice hadn’t a scratch on it. It was like a great plate of glass, and +so clear in places that they could see to the bottom of the pond—where +the bottom was sandy. + +All the young folk were soon on the ice, the boys starting a hockey game +at the far end, and the girls circling around in pairs at the end +nearest to the fire. + +“That’s what Mrs. Case, our physical instructor, says we ought to +learn,” said Laura, watching the boys. + +“And it’s jolly good fun, too,” cried Bobby. + +“But suppose you turned your ankle, or fell down and tore your dress?” +suggested Nellie. “I believe hockey on the ice is too rough.” + +“No game needs to be rough,” declared Laura. “That isn’t the spirit of +athletics. Didn’t we learn how to play basketball without being rough?” + +“Even Hessie Grimes learned that,” chuckled Bobby. + +At that moment a gun was fired back in the thicker woods, and then out +of the brush the girls saw an animal charging directly for the pond. +Patrick saw it, too, and leaped up from before the fire and ran toward +the beast. + +“It’s a big hog!” cried Bobby. + +“That’s the one they want to catch,” said Eve. “She is ugly, too, I +believe.” Then she raised her voice in warning to Patrick; “Look out, +Patrick! She is real cross.” + +“Faith!” returned the Irishman, half squatting down in the path of the +charging sow. “It’s not afraid I be of the likes of a pig. ’Tis too many +of their tails I’ve twisted in ould Ireland, to run from wan in +Ameriky——” + +Just then the animal spied him and went for Patrick, full tilt. There +wasn’t time for the Irishman to dodge; but he _did_ spread his legs, and +the angry mother-hog ran between them. + + + + +CHAPTER X—THE MID-TERM EXAMINATION + + +The girls, who were nearest the end of the lake, watched Patrick and the +old hog in amazement. The boys came down from the far end with a chorus +of yells and laughter. + +For the Irishman, leaping up with his feet apart, descended on the back +of the charging animal, with his face toward her tail! + +The porker grunted her displeasure, and Patrick did some grunting, too; +but he was not easily scared—nor would he be shaken off. He locked his +arms tightly around the animal’s body and hugged her neck with his legs, +so that she could not bite him. + +The creature kept up a deafening squealing, while out of the bush rushed +Dandy, the farmer’s dog. The boys came sweeping in from the lake to join +in the sport—sport to everybody but the pig and Patrick! But Dandy got +into the scrimmage first. + +True to his instinct, the dog attempted to seize the hog by the ear, but +miscalculated and caught Patrick by the calf of the leg! + +“Moses and all the children of Israel!” bawled the Irishman. “’Tis not +fair to set two bastes onto wan! Call off yer dawg, Otto, or it’s the +death of him I’ll be when I git rid of the hog.” + +But just then the poor hog got rid of him. She lay down and Patrick +tumbled off, kicking at the dog. Dandy seemed much surprised to discover +that he had locked his teeth on the wrong individual! + +The boys were convulsed with laughter; but the girls were afraid that +the Irishman had been seriously hurt. And, from the squealing of the +hog, they were positive that _she_ was suffering. + +However, Mr. Sitz and Otto appeared, and tied the legs of the struggling +beast, and so bore her away. They had already trapped her litter of +young ones, and Patrick limped after his master and Otto, vowing +vengeance against both the hog and the dog. + +So the boys took turns in keeping up the fire on the shore, for although +it was a clear day, the wind continued cold and blew hard. They were all +glad to hover around the blaze, now and then; and especially so when +they ate their luncheons. + +Eve had prepared a great can of chocolate and the girls had all brought +well-filled lunch boxes. Bobby was hovering about Laura’s as soon as it +was opened. + +“Mammy Jinny’s made you something nice, I know,” she said. “Dear me, I’m +so hungry! I wish I was like the Mississippi River.” + +“What’s that for?” demanded Prettyman Sweet, who overheard her. “Like +the Mississippi? Fawncy!” + +“Then I’d have three mouths,” exclaimed Bobby, immediately filling the +mouth she _did_ possess. + +“My word! that wouldn’t be so bad an idea, would it?” proclaimed Purt, +who was a good deal of a gourmand himself. + +“I don’t think much of this jam pie,” complained Chet, holding up a +wedge that he had taken from his sister’s basket. + +“That’s not jam pie!” exclaimed Laura. “Whoever heard of jam pie?” + +“Yep. This is it,” declared Chet. “The crusts are jammed right together. +There ain’t enough filling.” + +The wind increased toward the end of the day and it was hard to skate +against it; but the young folk had a lot of fun sailing down the length +of the pond with their coats spread for sails. + +“That was a great scheme you suggested about the kite the other day, +Laura,” declared Lance Darby. “It was as good as an aeroplane.” + +“What would be the matter with hitching the kite to our scooter?” +suggested Chet, who overheard him. + +The two chums owned a small iceboat which went, on Lake Luna, by the +name of “scooter.” + +“Say, old man! I’ve got a better scheme than that!” cried Lance, +suddenly. + +“What say?” + +“Let’s combine a flying machine with an iceboat and beat out everybody +on the lake this winter!” + +“Wow!” shouted his chum. “Now, you’ve been skating with Mother Wit and +have caught her inventive genius—it’s contagious. Gee! what an idea!” + +“That’s all right. Wait till you hear my scheme,” said Lance, wagging +his head. + +“It ought to work fine,” said Bobby Hargrew, with serious face. “All you +will have to do when you are sailing along the ice and come to open +water will be to turn a switch and jump right into the air. Save getting +your feet wet.” + +“Laugh all you want to,” said Lance, threateningly. “When we get it done +you girls will be glad enough to ride in it.” + +“Not I!” cried Nellie Agnew. “I wouldn’t ride on your old scooter as it +is. And to combine a flying machine and iceboat—whew! I guess not.” + +The boys became enthusiastic, however, and they talked about it all the +way home. Lance, however, kept the important idea regarding the new +invention for Chet Belding’s private ear. + +Jess Morse enjoyed the outing that Saturday, as she always enjoyed such +fun when with the Beldings; but, after all her mind was on her play. She +almost lived that play nowadays! + +And, to tell the truth, she began to neglect some of her studies in her +concentration of mind upon “The Spring Road.” Her mother praised it +warmly. + +“To think that I should have a daughter who may turn out to be a real +genius!” cried Mrs. Morse. “Although it is _so_ hard to get a play +accepted by a first-class producer.” + +“No. I don’t want to be a genius,” said Jess shaking her head. “But I +_do_ want awfully to win that prize.” + +“Such a sordid child,” said her mother, playfully. “I cannot imagine +one’s putting such emphasis on mere money. It isn’t genius, after all, I +fear. Our friends would call you eminently practical, I suppose,” and +the irresponsible lady sighed. + +But if Jess had no impractical thoughts regarding _why_ she wished to +win the prize, she made the mistake, just the same, of letting Miss +Carrington catch her two or three times in recitation hour. Gee Gee was +down on her like a hawk. + +“Miss Morse, what does this mean?” demanded the stern teacher, eyeing +Jess with particular grimness through her thick spectacles. + +She had called the culprit to her desk just before the noon recess and +now showed her the enormity of her offenses. + +“You are falling back. There is something on your mind beside your +textbooks, that is very sure, Miss Morse. I cannot lay it to athletics +at present, I suppose, for there seems to be a slight let-up in the +activities of you young ladies in that direction,” and she smiled her +very scornfullest smile. Miss Carrington abhorred athletics. + +“But we have another matter interfering with the placid current of our +school life. Are _you_, Miss Morse, one of the young ladies who are +attempting to write a play?” + +“Ye—yes, ma’am,” stammered Jess, blushing to her ears. + +“Ah! so I thought. I believe I can pick out all these playwrights by a +reference to their recitation papers. And this afternoon comes our +mid-term examination. Let me tell you, Miss Morse, that you must do +better this afternoon, or I shall take your case up with Mr. Sharp.” + +She was folding and tying with a narrow ribbon some papers as she spoke, +and her eyes snapped behind her glasses. + +“These are the questions in my hands now, Miss Morse,” said Gee. “And +let me tell you, they are searching ones. Be prepared, Miss—be +prepared!” + +And she popped them into the top drawer on the right-hand side of her +desk. But before she could shut down the roll top and so lock the desk, +Miss Gould appeared at the door of the room and beckoned to Miss +Carrington. The latter rose hurriedly and departed, leaving her desk +open. And likewise leaving Jess Morse, her hungry eyes fixed upon that +drawer in which the examination questions lay! + +Just a peep at those papers might have helped Jess a whole lot in the +coming hour of trial. + + + + +CHAPTER XI—MISSING + + +Alice Long, who was Short and Long’s sister, was entertaining some of +the girls when Jess Morse came into the recreation hall with something +her little brother Tommy had said. + +“Tommy’s just going to school, you know, and he’s beginning to ask +questions. I guess he stumps his teachers in the primary grade. He heard +the arithmetic class reciting and learned that only things of the same +denomination can be subtracted from each other. + +“‘Now, you know that ain’t so, Alice,’ says he to me. ‘For, can’t you +take four quarts of milk from three cows?’” + +Jess didn’t feel like laughing; what was coming after recess troubled +her. She felt a certainty that she would fail, and she could not get +over it. + +“Besides,” she said to herself, “Gee Gee will put the hardest questions +on the list to me—I just know she will.” + +“What’s the matter, Jess?” asked Laura, coming up to her and squeezing +her arm. “Something is troubling you, honey.” + +“And it will trouble you after recess,” replied Jess, mournfully. + +“The old exams?” + +“Uh-huh!” + +“Afraid, are you?” laughed Mother Wit. + +“I’m just scared to death. And Gee Gee knows I’m not prepared and she +will be down on me like a hawk.” + +“Maybe not.” + +“She knows I am weak. She just told me so, and she showed me the papers +and said there were awfully hard questions in them. She just delights in +catching us girls. And she says all of us who are trying for the prize +are neglecting our regular work.” + +“I expect we are, Jess,” admitted Laura. “Oh, dear! it’s not easy to +write a play, is it?” + +“I don’t know,” said Jess, hesitatingly. “I’m not sure that I am writing +a regular play. But I’m writing something!” + +“What does your mother say about it?” + +“Oh, of course she praises it. She would.” + +“I bet you win the prize, Jess!” exclaimed Laura. + +“No such luck. And, anyway, I will take no prize this afternoon. Gee Gee +threatens to take my standing up with Mr. Sharp if I don’t do well, +too.” + +“Oh, don’t worry, dear. Perhaps you will come out all right.” + +Bobby came swinging along and bumped into them. “Oh, hullo!” exclaimed +she. “Say! how do you pronounce ‘s-t-i-n-g-y’? Heh?” + +“Man or wasp?” returned Mother Wit, quickly. + +Jess laughed. “You can’t catch Laura with your stale jokes, Bobby,” she +gibed. + +“That’s all right; I asked for information. But you girls don’t know +anything. You’re writing plays. That’s enough to give you softening of +the brain. The folks that know it all are the squabs,” chuckled Bobby, +referring to the freshman class. “What do you suppose one of them sprang +this morning?” + +“I haven’t the least idea,” spoke Laura. + +“Why, she was asked to define the difference between instinct and +intelligence, and she said: ‘Instinct knows everything needed without +learning it; but human beings have reason, so we have to study ourselves +half blind to keep from being perfect fools!’ Now, what do you know +about that?” + +“I believe that child was right,” sighed Jess. “If I only had instinct I +wouldn’t have to worry about the questions Gee Gee is going to give us +this afternoon.” + +“Oh, say not so!” gasped Bobby, rolling her eyes and putting up both +hands. “I am trying to forget about those exams——There’s the bell! +Back to the mines!” she groaned, and rushed to take her place in the +line. + +The Junior class crowded into Miss Carrington’s room and took their +seats. The examination covered several of the more important studies. +The teacher took her place, adjusted the thick glasses she always wore, +and looked sternly over the room. + +“Young ladies,” she said, in her most severe manner, “I hope you are all +prepared for the review. But I doubt it—I seriously doubt it. Some of +you have been falling behind of late in a most astonishing manner, and I +fear for your standing—I fear for it.” + +This manner of approaching the exam, was, of course, very soothing to +the nervous girls; but it was Gee Gee’s way and they should all have +been used to it by this time. She had opened the drawer of her desk—the +top right-hand drawer—and was fumbling in it. + +Pretty soon she gave her entire attention to sorting the papers in this +drawer, which seemed to be pretty full. As the moments passed, her +manner betrayed the fact that the teacher was much disturbed. + +“Oh! I hope she’s lost ’em!” exclaimed the wicked Bobby Hargrew. + +“I don’t,” returned the girl she spoke to. “We’d suffer for it.” + +“Well, I got my fingers crossed!” chuckled Bobby. “She can’t accuse me. +I wasn’t near her old desk.” + +“Wasn’t it locked?” whispered another of the waiting girls. + +Miss Carrington heard the bustle in the class, so she sat up and looked +out over the room with asperity. + +“I want to know what this means, girls,” she said, snappily. “My desk +was left open by chance while I was out of the room for perhaps ten +minutes. The examination papers were in this drawer. Now I cannot find +them. Has somebody done this for a joke?” and she looked hard in Bobby’s +direction. + +“Look out, Bob,” warned one of her mates; “crossing your fingers isn’t +going to save you.” + +But suddenly, even while she was speaking, Miss Carrington seemed to be +stabbed by a thought. She started to her feet and turned her gaze upon +the part of the room in which Josephine Morse sat. And Jess’s face was +aflame! + +“Miss Morse!” + +Gee Gee’s voice was never of a pleasing quality. Now it startled every +girl in the room. Jess slowly arose, and she clung to the corner of her +desk a moment for support. + +“Do you remember seeing me put those question papers into this drawer? +_Do_ you?” demanded the teacher. + +“Ye—yes, ma’am,” replied Jess. + +“You were standing right here at my desk?” + +Jess nodded, while the whole class watched her now paling face. Many of +the girls looked amazed; some few looked angry. Laura Belding’s eyes +fairly blazed and she half rose from her seat. + +“Sit down, young ladies!” commanded Miss Carrington, who was quick to +see these suggestive actions on the part of the class. “Come here to me, +Miss Morse.” + +Jess walked up the aisle. After that first moment her strength came back +and she held her head up and stared straight into the face of the +teacher. The tears that had sprung to her eyes she winked back. + +“I had called you to my desk, Miss Morse,” said Gee Gee, in a low voice, +and staring hard at the girl, “and had pointed out to you that this +particular examination would be a trying one. Is that not a fact?” + +“Yes, ma’am,” admitted Jess. + +“Miss Gould called me and I hastily thrust the papers, which I +particularly told you were the question papers, into this drawer. Did I +not?” + +“You did.” + +“And then I hurried out of the room without locking the drawer—without +pulling down the roll top of the desk, indeed. Is that not so, Miss +Morse?” + +“It is,” said Jess, getting better control of her voice now. + +“And you were left standing here. The other girls were gone. Now, Miss +Morse, I freely admit that I am culpable in leaving such important +papers in the way. I should have locked them up. I presume the +temptation was great——” + +“I beg your pardon, Miss Carrington!” exclaimed the girl, more indignant +than frightened now. “You are accusing me without reason. I would not do +such a thing——” + +“Not ordinarily, perhaps,” interposed Miss Carrington. “But it all came +to you in a moment, I presume. And you did not have time to put them +back.” + +This she had said in a low voice, so that nobody but Jess heard her. But +the girl’s voice rose higher as she grew hysterical. + +“Miss Carrington, you are unfair! I never touched them!” + +“You must admit, Miss Morse, that circumstances are very much against +you,” declared the teacher. + +“I admit nothing of the kind. A dozen people might have been in the room +while you were out and the desk was open. Ten minutes is a long time.” + +“You seem to have thought out your defense very well, Miss Morse,” said +Gee Gee, sternly. “But it will not do. It is too serious a matter to +overlook. I shall send for Mr. Sharp,” and she touched the button which +rang the bell in the principal’s office. + + + + +CHAPTER XII—COUNSEL FOR THE DEFENSE + + +“Come to order!” commanded Miss Carrington, rapping on her desk with a +hard knuckle. + +She quickly gave the class in general a task and sent Jess to her seat. + +“I will speak with you later, young lady,” she said, in her most +scornful way. + +Jess’s eyes were almost blinded by tears when she went back to her seat. +But they were angry tears. The unkind suspicion and accusation of the +teacher cut deeply into the girl’s soul. She could see some of the girls +looking at her askance—girls like Hester Grimes and Lily Pendleton, and +their set. Of course, they had not heard all that Miss Carrington said; +but they could easily suspect. And the whole class knew that the trouble +was over the disappearance of the papers for the review. + +Bobby wickedly whispered to her neighbor that she hoped the papers +wouldn’t ever be found. But that would not help Jess Morse out of +trouble. + +To Jess herself, hiding her face behind an open book, the printed page +of which was a mere blur before her eyes, it seemed as though this +trouble would overwhelm her. It was worse than the poverty she and her +mother had to face. It was worse than having no party dress fit to be +seen in. It was worse than being refused credit at Mr. Closewick’s +grocery store. It was worse than having old Mr. Chumley hound them for +the rent + +Reviewing the whole affair more calmly, Jess could understand that Miss +Carrington would consider her guilty—if she could bring herself to +think any girl of Central High would do such a thing. + +Jess sat there, dumb, unable to work, unable to concentrate her mind on +anything but the horribly unjust accusation of her teacher. How she +disliked Gee Gee! + +The other girls were not particularly devoted to the task set them for +the moment, either. Laura did not sit very near her chum in this room. +She asked permission to speak with Jess and Miss Carrington said: + +“No, Miss Belding; sit down!” and she said it in her very grimmest way. +Usually the teacher was very lenient with Mother Wit, for of all her +pupils Laura gave her the least trouble. + +A feeling of expectancy controlled the whole roomful of girls. It came +to a crisis—every girl jumped!—when the door opened and Mr. Sharp +walked in. + +The principal of Central High seldom troubled the girls’ class rooms +with his presence. When he addressed the young ladies it was usually _en +masse_. He trusted Miss Carrington, almost entirely, in the management +of the girls. + +His rosy cheeks shone and his eyes twinkled through his glasses as he +walked quickly to the platform and sat down beside Gee Gee at her table, +which faced the girls, whereas her roll-top desk was at the rear of the +platform, against the wall of the room. + +Principal and teacher talked in low voices for some moments. Mr. Sharp +cast no confusing glances about the room. He ignored the girls, as +though his entire business was with their teacher. + +At length he looked around, smiling as usual, Mr. Sharp was a pleasant +and fair-minded man and the girls all liked him. He had their undivided +attention in a moment, without the rapping of Miss Carrington’s hard +knuckle on the table top. Bobby said that that knuckle of Gee Gee’s +middle finger had been abnormally developed by continued bringing the +class to order. + +“Young ladies!” said Gee Gee, snappily. “Mr. Sharp will speak to you.” + +The principal looked just a little annoyed—just a little; and for only +the moment while he was rising to speak. He never liked to hear his +pupils treated like culprits. He usually treated them at assembly with +elaborate politeness if he had to criticise, and with perfect +good-fellowship if praise was in order. This little scene staged by Miss +Carrington grated on him. + +“Our good Miss Carrington,” said he, softly, “has sustained a loss. +Important papers have been mislaid, we will say.” + +He raised his hand quickly when Miss Carrington would have spoken, and +she was wise enough to let him go on in his own way. + +“Now, the question is: How have the papers been lost, and where are they +at the present moment? It is a problem—in deduction, we will say. We +must all partake of the character of some famous detective. It used to +be a rule in our family when I was a boy that, if a thing were lost, it +was wisest to look for it in the most unlikely places first. I can +remember once, when father lost a horse, that mother insisted in shaking +out all the hens’ nests and giving them new nests. But father never +_did_ find that horse.” + +The girls had begun to smile now; and some of them giggled. Miss +Carrington looked as she usually did when Mr. Sharp joked—it pained her +and set her teeth on edge. Bobby declared she looked as though she had +bitten into a green persimmon. + +“Joking aside, however,” continued the principal. “This loss is a +serious matter. Suppose you young ladies suggest how the question papers +to be used in this mid-term examination have been whisked out of this +drawer of Miss Carrington’s desk, and hidden elsewhere? Can it be +possible that it is the prank of a pixy? Of course, all of you young +ladies are too serious-minded to do such a thing yourselves.” + +There was a general laugh, then, and the strain of the last few minutes +began to be relieved. Somehow, even Jess Morse felt better. + +“To suggest that anybody in this class—the Junior class of Central +High—would deliberately misappropriate these questions is beyond +imagination,” declared Mr. Sharp, with sudden gravity. “It is a mistake. +The mistake is explainable. Has anyone a suggestion to make?” + +It was Laura Belding who broke the silence. She asked her question very +modestly, but her cheeks were flushed, and she was evidently indignant. + +“Is—is it positive that the papers were put in that top drawer that +Miss Carrington now has open?” + +“Ask Miss Morse!” snapped the teacher, before Mr. Sharp could reply. + +“We will. Nothing like corroboration,” said the principal, with a bow +and smile. “Miss Morse?” + +“Yes, sir,” said Jess, in a low voice, rising. “I saw her put them +there. She tied them into a bundle by themselves.” + +“You are observant, Miss Morse,” said the principal, smiling again. +“Thank you. Now, Miss Belding?” for Laura was still standing. + +“I notice that the drawer is very full,” said Laura, quietly. “May I +come upon the platform and look at it?” + +“Certainly,” responded Mr. Sharp; but Miss Carrington flushed again, and +exclaimed: + +“I have searched that drawer thoroughly. The papers are not there.” + +Again Mr. Sharp made a little deprecatory gesture, “Come forward, Miss +Belding,” he said. + +Mother Wit gave her chum a single reassuring glance. Somehow, without +reason, that look comforted Jess. She still stood beside her desk, too +anxious to sit down again, while Laura walked quietly forward. + +“That drawer is very full, Mr. Sharp,” she said, composedly enough. “May +I take it out?” + +“Oh, I’ve had it out and felt behind it,” urged Miss Carrington, all of +a flutter now. + +“Maybe Miss Belding can show us something we did not know,” said the +principal, in his bantering way. It had been he who gave Laura her +nickname, and he thought a great deal of the girl. He knew that she had +some serious intention or she would not have come forward. + +Laura pulled out the over-full drawer and set it down upon the carpet. + +“Oh, it isn’t there,” said Miss Carrington. “The packet was tied with a +mauve ribbon—a narrow ribbon——” + +Laura pulled out the next drawer. + +“Oh, that’s quite useless,” exclaimed the lady teacher. “And to have +everything disarranged in this way——” + +“We must give the counsel for the defense every opportunity, Miss +Carrington,” said the principal softly. + +Laura drew out the third drawer—just glancing at the top layer of +papers—and then the fourth and last. No bundle tied with a mauve ribbon +appeared. + +“Not there!” exclaimed Gee Gee, and was there a spice of satisfaction in +her voice? + +But Laura dropped upon her knees, ran her arm to the shoulder into the +aperture where the last drawer came out, and drew forth the missing +packet of papers, which lay crowded back upon the carpet. + +“There!” said Mr. Sharp, quite in a matter-of-fact tone, “I have +suggested to the Board of Education more than once that all these old +unsanitary desks should be done away with. The only roll-top desk fit to +use in the schools are those which stand upon feet, the bottom of the +lower drawer being a few inches from the floor. Thank you, Miss Belding! +We will now go on with the afternoon session.” + +But he rested his hand for a moment upon Laura’s shoulder, as she was +about to step down after returning the drawers to their places in the +desk. + +“The counsel for the defense did very well,” he whispered, and then left +the room as quietly as he had entered it. + +Mr. Sharp had relieved Miss Carrington of the embarrassment of his +presence; but she certainly was troubled by the untoward incident. Laura +returned to her seat by the way of Jess’s and boldly squeezed her hand. +And Jess thanked her, in her heart. The rebound from being suspected of +the loss of the papers gave her such relief that the coming examination +seemed much less terrible. Or perhaps, Miss Carrington was, after all, a +little easy on her that afternoon; for Jess Morse came through the +grilling with surprisingly high marks. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII—A WAY IS OPENED + + +But Jess had had ample warning. There would be something important heard +from Gee Gee if she neglected the regular work of her classes to devote +time and thought to that wonderful play. + +It was hard to keep her mind off a task that had so gripped her heart +and mind. “The Spring Road” was in her thought almost continually. She +even dreamed about it at night. And it was a veritable wrench to get her +mind off the idyl of youth she was writing to set it upon the grim +realities of Latin, English, the higher mathematics, and other school +tasks. + +It seemed to Jess Morse as though no other piece of writing could ever +be so enthralling as this she had undertaken. When she had begun it it +was with fear and trembling. The two hundred dollar prize was what +spurred her to the task. But now, she fairly loved it! + +“The Spring Road” was a fantasy—a comedy—a love story; it was all +three in one, and she was writing it with the limitations of those who +would probably play it, in mind. + +Many of the contestants for Mrs. Kerrick’s prize thought not at all +about the players; but already in Jess’s mind was fixed who, of her +schoolmates, would best fit into the parts. There was a character who +could not gain much sympathy from the audience, but who could wear +beautiful clothes—that would just suit Lily Pendleton. + +And for the Spring Spirits, in the allegory, _Budding Tree_ and +_Laughing Brook_, who could be better fitted than Dora and Dorothy +Lockwood? While the heroine of the story must be beautiful Kate Protest, +of the Senior class, and the _Truant Lover_ the sparkling Launcelot +Darby. + +At home matters were not going as smoothly as Jess had hoped, after her +mother obtained regular work upon the Centerport _Courier_. It was nice +to get the money regularly for that work; but somehow Mrs. Morse could +not see the wisdom of “paying as you go.” Jess could not always take +cash with her when she went to the stores; and if her mother chanced to +be out herself and saw something particularly nice that Jess was likely +to fancy, she ordered it in without regard to how it was to be paid for. + +But that had always been Mrs. Morse’s way. She was over-generous with +Jess while she, herself, went with shabby gloves and mended shoes. But +any sensible plan of retrenchment in their household expenses had never +been evolved in her mind. + +How they were to meet the added burden of the January rent never seemed +to trouble her. Jess only spoke of it once during that first fortnight +in December; then it disturbed her mother so much that the lamp of +genius refused to burn for a whole day, and, with a sigh, the girl gave +over discussing the point. + +Checks for her mother’s stories came few and far between these days, +Jess feared that they would soon owe Mr. Hargrew as large a bill as they +had at Mr. Closewick’s store. And as for a new dress—well, the idea of +that was as far in the offing as ever. + +All the girls she knew well were so busy scribbling away at their prize +plays that, had Jess been free herself out of school hours, she would +have been unable to find any of her usual companions at leisure. + +Even Chet Belding, who was always at her beck and call, was terribly +busy these days. He and Lance Darby were hard at work upon some +wonderful sort of ice craft they were building down in Monson’s old +boathouse, near the Girls’ Branch Athletic League field and boathouse. + +Each day saw the wintry winds grow colder, and soon the ice upon Lake +Luna was thick enough to bear. Some of the more reckless boys had skated +out to the steamboat channel, which had been sawed from the open water +in the middle of the lake, so that the freight boats from Lumberport and +Keyport could get to their docks. + +Ice of such thickness on Lake Luna at this early date, however, +surprised even that apocryphal person, “the oldest inhabitant.” And Jess +Morse would have been glad of a new coat, or the set of furs that her +mother had talked about. When she started for school some mornings, the +first blast of keen air off the lake seemed to cut through her like a +knife. She wouldn’t have had her mother know how really thin her apparel +seemed for anything in the world. + +And, very wisely, she kept up her gym. work faithfully. A few minutes’ +vigorous exercise after the regular day’s work at school was finished +put her in a glow, made her breathe more deeply and “put a shine in her +eyes,” as Bobby expressed it. + +“There isn’t a girl in the class who doesn’t need brisking up in the +gym. this weather—unless it’s Eve Sitz,” confided Bobby to Laura and +Jess as they left the gymnasium building together one afternoon. “Girls +are just like cats; they all like to mope around the register or the +steam radiator in cold weather. Why, Lil Pendleton wears a lace shawl +over her shoulders in the house, and hangs over the gas-log like an old +woman. We all ought to get back into basketball—and at the rowing +machines—again. Once a week on the court isn’t enough to keep us +alive.” + +“If you knew the number of things Eve Sitz does, in and out of doors, +before she comes to school in the morning, and after she gets home +again, you wouldn’t wonder that she keeps her color, and is so brisk and +strong,” laughed Laura. + +“I expect she is a busy little bee,” admitted Bobby. + +“She helps milk the cows night and morning——” + +“There!” interrupted the irrepressible Bobby. “That’s what I’ve always +intended to ask Eve; but I forget it.” + +“What’s that?” asked Jess. + +“Why, when you have finished milking a cow, how do you turn the milk +off?” + +“Isn’t she the ridiculous girl?” chuckled Laura, as Bobby ran up the +side street toward her own door. Then Mother Wit turned on her chum, +with her brisk, bird-like way: “How’s the play going, Jess?” + +“I’m—I’m afraid it’s finished,” said her chum, slowly. + +“‘Afraid!’” repeated Laura, in amazement. + +“Yes. As far as I can finish it.” + +“But you’re not going to give it up in the middle?” cried Laura. + +“No. It is complete. Only it doesn’t satisfy me,” returned Jess, shaking +her head. “And it never will.” + +“Ah! there speaks real genius!” declared Laura, smiling. + +“Don’t you believe it,” was her friend’s hasty reply. “I just don’t know +enough to write it well enough to suit me.” + +“Modesty!” + +“Sense,” corrected Jess, laughing a little dolefully. “How are you +getting along?” + +“Just as Mr. Sharp said, I am no female Shakespeare,” said Laura. “But I +have hopes that maybe my play isn’t so bad.” + +Jess was not sanguine about “The Spring Road,” however. She knew that it +might be written so much better, if one only knew how! + +And while they discussed the play Jess heard somebody calling her by +name. Laura grabbed her arm and pointed. + +“Isn’t that Mrs. Prentice—the very rich Mrs. Prentice—in her electric +runabout? And, I declare, Jess! she’s calling to you.” + +“Yes. I know her; she wants me,” said Jess breathlessly, and she ran +across the street to where the electric car was standing beside the +curb. + +“I want you, child,” said the lady, with decision. “Can you excuse +yourself to your friend?” + +Jess waved her hand to Laura, and called: + +“I’ll be up after supper, dear.” + +Laura nodded, and smiled, and went on; but she was evidently puzzled as +she turned to gaze after the runabout as it moved off swiftly with her +chum beside the lady in the magnificent furs. + +“And how are you and your mother getting along?” asked Mrs. Prentice, as +soon as the car had started. + +“Why—why about as usual, Mrs. Prentice,” stammered Jess, who was much +puzzled as to why the lady should want her to take this ride. “Only +mother is regularly employed by Mr. Prentice, and is very grateful for +the work—as you must know, ma’am.” + +“Oh, don’t speak of that,” said Mrs. Prentice, laughing. “I fancy that +Pat is getting full measure for his money; he usually does. But tell me, +child, are you going to remain in that cottage of Mr. Chumley’s?” + +“Why—I really don’t know, Mrs. Prentice. There seems no other place to +go——” + +“He is horribly overcharging you, child,” said the lady, quickly. + +“I know. But there are so few small places in decent +neighborhoods—mother says she doesn’t know what to do about it.” + +“I fancy, Jessica——Is that your name?” + +“Josephine, Mrs. Prentice; only they all call me Jess.” + +“Very well—Jess. Sounds a good practical name—and you are a practical +girl; I can see that. Now, Jess, I fancy you have to do something +yourself toward moving, to get your mother started, eh?” + +“Oh! but I don’t know where to go——” + +The car began to slow down. Mrs. Prentice had run into a quiet side +street, not two blocks from the cottage at the foot of Whiffle Street. + +“See here,” said the lady, stopping the motor and preparing to alight. +“I want you to see this little dove-cote—that’s what I have always +called it. It is set behind a grassy front yard and there is a little +garden at the back. You’ll love it in spring and summer.” + +“Oh, but Mrs. Prentice, is it empty?” + +“It’s too empty. That’s the trouble. The tenant I had left +unexpectedly.” She neglected to say that she had paid the tenant a +certain sum to leave the cottage and move into another house. “I don’t +want the house empty during the cold weather. I have paid to have a fire +kept up in the furnace for a week so that the pipes would not freeze. +Come in.” + +It was a dear little cottage; Jess Morse was delighted with it. And so +much more convenient than Mr. Chumley’s. Besides, there was a good +reason why the owner paid to have the fires kept up all this week of +cold weather. Every room was fresh with paint and paper—the smell of +varnish was still plain. It was really a delightful little place and the +furniture at home would fit into the several rooms so nicely! + +Jess Morse saw all this at once. She was delighted——And two dollars +less a month than the cottage in which they had lived so long! + +“It is a way opened, Mrs. Prentice!” she murmured. “Better than we could +ever expect. I thank you from the very bottom of my heart!” + + + + +CHAPTER XIV—IN SUSPENSE + + +But when Jess got home—and Mrs. Prentice took her there in the car, but +would not come in herself—she had hard work to satisfy her mother that +such a change as this opportunity suggested was a good one for them to +make. In short, Mrs. Morse did not enthuse. + +“Just think of the trouble of it all,” she sighed. “My dear Jess, we +have been here so long——” + +“But Mr. Chumley doesn’t want us any longer,” interposed Jess. + +“Tut, tut! that is only the old gentleman’s way. He really will not +raise our rent, do you think?” + +“Why, Mother!” expostulated the girl, “he has already raised it and +threatened to put us out if we don’t find the increased three dollars on +the first.” + +“I am afraid you were not politic enough,” said her mother. + +“One cannot be politic with Mr. Chumley. He wants his house for another +tenant; he has as good as said so. And _do_ come and see Mrs. Prentice’s +little cottage. It is a _love_.” + +Even after she had seen it, however, Mrs. Morse was doubtful. She shrank +from the change. + +“And think of the expense of moving,” she declared. + +“But the two dollars less we pay a month will soon pay for _that_,” said +Jess, eagerly. + +“Well—er—perhaps,” admitted her mother, doubtfully. + +Jess had to do it all, however. She had to attend to every detail of the +change. Fortunately her mother received a check of some size and the +daughter obtained a part of it for current expenses. She hired a +truckman, packed most of their possessions after school hours, and saw +to the setting up of their goods and chattels in the new home. + +There were several tons of furnace coal in the cellar of the new home. +In the old cottage there had been no heater. Mrs. Prentice told Jess +that she could pay for the coal a little at a time, and the girl gladly +availed herself of this advantage. + +For the winter promised to be a severe one. Since frost had set in in +earnest there had been no let-up. Jess and her mother moved during the +short holiday vacation. The day school closed; the contestants for the +prize offered by Mrs. Kerrick handed in their plays. The announcement of +the successful one would be after the intermission—on the first Monday +of the New Year. + +When the Morses really came to remove their goods from the house in +which they had lived so long, old Mr. Chumley would have liked to get +out an injunction against their doing so. + +“I never thought you’d do it, Widder!” he croaked, having hurried over +the minute he heard the moving man was at the door. “Why—why mebbe we +could have split the difference. P’r’aps three dollars a month more was +a leetle steep.” + +“Oh, dear me!” sighed Mrs. Morse. “Really, Mr. Chumley, this is Jess’s +doings. She thinks the change will be better for us——” + +“Now then! I wouldn’t let no young’un snap me like I was the end of a +whip!” cried the old man. “You bundle your things back into the house, +and we’ll call it only a one-fifty raise.” + +But here Jess interfered. “Are you prepared to take two dollars off the +rent, instead of adding any, and will you make the repairs we have been +asking for all this year, Mr. Chumley?” she demanded, briskly. + +“My goodness me! I can’t. It ain’t possible. The property don’t bring me +enough as it is.” + +“Then there’s no use talking to us,” said Jess, drawing her arm through +her mother’s. “Mrs. Prentice’s house is all freshly done over, and has a +heater, which this house hasn’t, and everything is in spick and span +order.” + +“That Mrs. Prentice! I might ha’ knowed it!” cackled Mr. Chumley. “And +she was for having you arrested for stealing once.” + +This was the very first Mrs. Morse had heard about the night Jess had +had her queer experience, and she had to be told all about it now. She +saw at once that her own regular work for the _Courier_ arose out of her +daughter’s acquaintance with the wealthy Mrs. Prentice. + +“And she is one of the leaders in our Hill society!” gasped the poor +lady. “I declare! I shall never be able to face her again—although I +have only a bowing acquaintance with her. She will very well know who is +putting all the society items into the paper.” + +“Well, it’s honest,” said Jess, stubbornly. + +“My goodness me! How practical you are, Jess,” exclaimed her mother. +“Isn’t anything but bread-and-butter, and such things, appealing to you +in life, child?” + +Jess did not answer. She was naturally as frivolous of mind as any other +girl of her age, only the happenings in their domestic life of the last +few weeks had made her far more thoughtful. + +And really, the little dove-cote, as Mrs. Prentice had called their new +home, was a veritable love of a place! Mrs. Morse had to admit herself +that it was a great improvement over the house where they had lived so +long. + +As it was vacation week, she let Jess go right ahead to settle things +while she stuck to the typewriter. And Jess was glad to have plenty to +occupy her mind. The suspense of waiting for the committee to decide +upon the winner of the prize was hard to endure indeed. + +One evening, however, Chet came after her, for there was a big moonlight +skating party on Lake Luna. By this time people who had horses and +sleighs had made quite a trotting course from Centerport to Keyport in +one direction, and from Centerport to Lumberport at the other end of the +lake. + +There were certain motor enthusiasts, too, who had rigged their cars so +that they would travel on the ice; but Chet Belding and Lance Darby had +beaten them all. The trotting course hugged the shore, the skaters +followed the same course, but farther out on the ice, and beyond, toward +the middle of the lake, the iceboats had free swing. And there were +several very fast “scooters” and the like upon Lake Luna. + +But Laura’s brother and his chum declared that “they’d got ’em all beat +to a stiff froth!” And on this night they produced the finished product +of their joint work for the last several weeks. + +“What do we call it? The _Blue Streak!_” declared Chet. “And that’s the +way she travels. We tried her out this morning and——Well, you girls +will admit that you never traveled fast before.” + +“My goodness me, Laura! Do you think it is safe for us to venture with +them?” demanded Jess. + +“If Chet brings me home in pieces he knows what mother will do to him,” +returned her chum, laughing. + +The novel boat certainly attracted considerable attention when the boys +ran it out of the old boathouse and pushed it far away from the skating +course. It combined the principles of an aircraft with runners of the +familiar iceboat. + +“Just call it an aero-iceyacht, and let it go at that,” said Chet. “That +hits it near enough.” + +“And it really can sail in the air or on the ice—like a hydroplane?” +demanded Jess. + +“You’ll think so,” Chet assured her. + +The boat was driven by a propeller similar to those on aeroplanes; and +this propeller was fastened to the crossbeam on which were the two +forward runners—somewhat similar to the mast on the ordinary lake +iceboat. The body and rudder plank, at right angles to this crossbeam, +supported the two-cylinder gasoline engine, which Chet bought at the +motor repair shop of Mr. Purcell. + +It was a fourteen-horse-power engine, water-cooled, and geared with a +chain to the propeller. + +“We tried a belt first,” said Lance; “but the blamed thing slipped so +that old Chet evolved the chain-gear idea. Great, eh?” + +“How can we tell till we see it work?” demanded Laura. + +“And you don’t have to lie down for ‘low bridge’ when the boom goes over +on this iceyacht!” cried Jess, enthusiastically. “We can sit up.” + +“All the time,” agreed Lance. + +“I think it’s simply great!” declared Laura. + +“All because you, Mother Wit, suggested using the kite for motive power +that day,” said her brother, admiringly. “That gave us the idea. If a +kite would give motive power to a man skating, why not use a more +up-to-date air-power scheme on the ice?” + +“And it worked!” shouted Lance. + +“Oh, hurry!” cried Jess. “I’m crazy to see how it sails.” + +The boys placed the girls amidships, and showed them how to cling to the +straps on either side. Lance took his place on the crossbeam—to act as +weight on either end if such balance was needed; Chet took the tiller. + +“Open her up!” the latter commanded his chum. “Only quarter round with +the switch when the engine gets her stroke. Now, careful! Hang on, +girls!” + +The next moment the engine began to throb regularly, and the blades of +the propeller whirled. In half a minute they had gained such momentum +that the eye could not distinguish the blades themselves—they simply +made a blur in the moonlight. + +The craft lunged ahead. + + + + +CHAPTER XV—A MILE A MINUTE + + +The moon, hanging low upon the horizon, was young but brilliant. The air +was so keen and clear that without the help of the moonlight it seemed +as though the stars must have flooded the lake with white light. + +Nearer the southern shore the jingle of sleigh-bells and the laughter +and shouting of the skaters marked the revelers who gave a free course +to the iceboats out here nearer the open water. For both east and west +of Cavern Island, which lay in the middle of Lake Luna, opposite +Centerport, the ice was either unsafe, or there were long stretches of +open water. The freight boats up and down the lake kept this channel +open. + +But there was a wide and safer course before the flying aero-iceboat. +And soon she was moving so fast that the girls heard nothing but the +shriek of the wind rushing by. + +Here and there before them lanterns glowed like huge fireflies. These +lights were in the rigging of several ice-yachts. Chet and Lance had a +pair of automobile searchlights rigged forward on their own boat. + +Another yacht had started from the old boathouse at about the time our +friends and their new-fangled craft got under way. There were girls +aboard it, too; but at first the Beldings and Jess and Lance did not +recognize the other party. + +The strange yacht was distinguished, however, by a red and green lamp. +As Chet had been slow in starting, the other boat got ahead. But now, +although the wind was fair and the other yacht traveled splendidly, the +aero-iceboat bore down upon it, beating it out and leaving it behind +like an express train going by a freight. + +However, Chet would not allow Lance to throw on all speed. There were +too many other craft on the ice before them—and it was night. + +The lights of the City of Centerport soon fell behind them; then, almost +at once, they picked up the lights of Keyport at the extreme end of the +lake. They were traveling some! + +Chet had strapped on a megaphone, which he had borrowed from Short and +Long, who was coxswain of the boys’ Central High eight-oared shell, and +through this he shouted his orders to Lance. They ran down within a mile +of Keyport, and then shut off the engine and circled about on the +momentum they had gained. There were too many skaters and sleighs on the +ice down here to make iceboating either safe or pleasurable. + +“My goodness me! Wasn’t that fun?” gasped Jess. + +“Felt like you was traveling some, eh?” + +“Oh, Chet! it was great!” + +“It certainly is a fine boat, Bobby,” agreed Laura. “You and Launcelot +have done well.” + +“Wait!” said Lance, warningly. + +“Wait for what?” demanded Laura. + +“We didn’t travel that time. We were only preparing you—warming her up, +as it were. Wait till we let her out.” + +“My goodness!” cried Jess. “Can you go faster?” + +“We’ll show you, going home,” said Chet. + +Just then the boat with the green and red light swooped down upon them +and a voice shouted: + +“What kind of a contraption is that you’ve got there, Belding?” + +“Hullo!” exclaimed Chet. “That’s Ira Sobel’s yacht. Ira is Purt Sweet’s +cousin.” Then he answered: “Oh, this is a little rigging of my own, Mr. +Sobel. But she can travel. Rather beat’s your _Nightkawk_, eh?” + +“Well, she did that time,” admitted Sobel, doubtfully. + +“My goodness me!” the friends heard the Central High dandy exclaim. “I +weally wouldn’t want to travel any faster, Ira. I—I haven’t weally got +my breath yet!” + +“Oh, I say!” cried another voice from the iceboat, and they recognized +Lily Pendleton’s. “What do you think about the prize? Did you hear?” + +“Why, they haven’t decided on the best play yet, have they?” returned +Jess, eagerly, and before her chum could speak. + +“No, But I heard they’d put it all into Mr. Monterey’s hands. He’s the +manager of the Opera House, you know. And mother is very well acquainted +with him. You girls laughed at my play——” + +“Not I, Lily,” interrupted Laura, good-naturedly. “I was too afraid that +the rest of you might have a chance to laugh at mine.” + +“Well, I bet I’ve a good chance to win. Mr. Monterey is real nice, and +mother is going to see him.” + +“Pooh!” exclaimed Chet. “She’s one of those people who think influence +brings things about. Don’t you be worried, girls; I bet Mr. Sharp won’t +let anybody get that prize through favoritism.” + +“That’s very encouraging, Chet,” said Jess. “But perhaps Lily will win +it. You know, she goes to plays more than any other girl in the Junior +class of Central High, that’s true. And she reads novels—real silly +ones. Maybe she knows how to write just what would please a theatrical +manager.” + +“Pooh!” said Laura, “I’m not giving up all hope yet—especially because +of Lil Pendleton’s say-so.” + +“Now, look out!” shouted Lance. “All ready to go back, Chet?” + +“Start her!” exclaimed his chum, “Cling tight, girls—and take a good +breath. I want to time this trip. It’s all of nine miles to the starting +point and we’ll show you——” + +His voice trailed off and the girls did not hear the rest of his speech. +The big propeller-wings began to beat the air, and the sound rose to a +keen buzzing. Chet snapped his watch back into his pocket, raised his +hand, and the iceboat tore ahead. + +In twenty seconds the wind rushed past them so that the girls were +forced to bend their heads. The way was clear and Lance had “let her +out.” Chet bent sidewise watching the ice through his goggles. +Occasionally he screamed an order to his chum, who signaled with his +hand that he heard and understood. + +It was like the flight of a meteor! Laura and Jess never had realized +before what it meant to travel fast. Motoring on land was nothing like +this. As though shot out of some huge cannon the aero-iceboat skimmed +the lake. The wind was almost in their faces, but that made little +difference to this new invention of the chums. + +The other yachts had to tack against the wind; not so the aero-iceboat. +Swift and straight she flew and suddenly Chet roared to Lance to shut +down, and the propeller groaningly stopped. + +Chet flung up his goggles and drew out his watch. + +“Eight and a half minutes!” he cried, with glee. “And, as I told you, +it’s a good nine miles.” + +“Let me off! let me off!” gasped his sister, struggling down from the +narrow body of the boat. “Why! I never want to travel any faster, Chet. +Do you think it is _safe?_” + +“You bet it is, Miss Laura,” said Lance. “Or we wouldn’t have invited +you girls to go with us.” + +“Just wait till some day—say Saturday. By daylight I’d drive this thing +faster than that. I tell you, we’ve got the speediest craft on the whole +lake.” + +“It beats what Mrs. Case told us about ski running in Sweden,” cried +Jess, who was delighted with the experience. “And if Mrs. Case starts a +class to travel on skis this winter, I want to be in it.” + +“Well! it’s all right to hear about. But the experience is sort of +shaking,” sighed Laura. “I’m not sure that I have an over-abundance of +pluck, after all.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVI—“JUST LIKE A STORY BOOK” + + +The Morses were completely settled in their little house before school +opened. Jess had had a busy vacation, but aside from her ride on Chet’s +and Lance’s _Blue Streak_ she had joined in little of the holiday fun of +her mates at Central High. + +There was one basketball game during the holiday recess. Central High +met the Keyport team on their own court and outplayed them most +decidedly; therefore the athletic temperature went up several degrees. + +Mrs. Case, the physical instructor of Central High, was an enthusiastic +out-of-doors woman, and as a heavy snow fell about New Year’s she easily +interested the girls under her instruction in skiing. This exercise, she +pointed out, might take the place of the fortnightly walking expeditions +during the snowy weather, and there was so much broken country behind +Centerport that the sport could be indulged in with profit. + +The boys were getting so much sport out of ice hockey that—as the +league approved of that form of exercise—the physical instructor +introduced it on the girls’ athletic field. The field could be flooded, +and had been; now it was a perfectly smooth piece of ice and upon it +those of the older girls who were already good skaters, had a chance to +learn the mysteries of hockey. + +“Huh! Father Tom says it’s nothing but old-fashioned ‘shinny’ with a +fancy name tacked onto it,” declared Bobby Hargrew. “But my! isn’t it +fun?” + +Jess and her chum, as well as the irrepressible, “took” to hockey, and +there were enough of the other girls interested for two good teams to be +made up. + +Hester Grimes captained one team and Laura the other. There was still +some little feeling of rivalry between Hester and Mother Wit—perhaps +not much on the side of the latter; but the wholesale butcher’s daughter +was inclined to be overbearing, and was never really satisfied unless +she had an important part in whatever went on. + +The struggle between the two teams for supremacy among the girls of +Central High in this particular sport really led, however, to good +results. Hester was backed by strong players; and being so muscular a +girl herself she carried her side to victory two out of every three +times. + +“We ought to beat her—she’ll get too uppity to live with,” declared +Bobby, discussing these games. + +“It will do us good to be beaten occasionally,” laughed Laura. “You +begin to think, Bobby, that you must belong to the winning side all the +time.” + +“Yes. Who doesn’t?” sniffed Miss Hargrew. “It’s all right—all this talk +about playing the game for the game’s sake; but right down in the bottom +of our hearts, don’t all of us play to win? If we don’t, we never play +well, that’s as sure as shooting.” + +When the school re-opened, however, on the first Monday in January, the +subject uppermost in the minds of the girls of Central High was the +prize contest in play-writing for the M. O. R’s. The girls crowded into +Assembly that morning, all on the _qui vive_ to hear what the principal +would have to say. + +But after the opening exercises, when Mr. Sharp came forward to speak, +he surprised everybody by saying: + +“We are not ready to report upon the matter of the plays. Mr. Monterey +will confer with us at noon, and before school is dismissed to-day we +will announce the winner. + +“It is not often that a committee having in charge the decision of the +winner in an amateur play-writing competition has the happiness to be +aided by a professional manager of a theater, and a man, too, who has +produced plays of importance himself. + +“Mr. Monterey’s knowledge of what will _act_ well will make our final +decision, I believe, one that will strike all competitors as eminently +fair. We have tried to decide upon the prize winner in a way that will +satisfy the giver of the prize, too—Mrs. Kerrick. She demanded a play +that would act well and that will draw an audience because of its +dramatic value as a play—not merely because it is written by a girl of +Central High, or is performed by the girls and their friends for the +benefit of the M. O. R’s. + +“Before the day closes, I can promise you, the decision will be made and +the name of the prize-winner, and of the title of the play, will be +announced. You are excused to your lessons for the morning.” + +The buzz of excitement—especially from the girls’ side—when Mr. Sharp +had ceased speaking, could scarcely be controlled. Not even Miss +Carrington’s basilisk eye could quell it. + +Of course, poor Bobby fell a victim to Gee Gee’s sour temper. She +thought the teacher had long since reached the class room, and she was +gabbling away to Nell Agnew and Jess “sixteen to the dozen,” as she +would have said herself. When out of a door popped the bespectacled Miss +Carrington, grimmer and more stern than usual. + +“Indeed, Miss! are you supposed to rattle away like that about matters +entirely foreign to your lessons, on the way to class room?” demanded +the teacher. + +“Oh, indeed, Miss Carrington,” exclaimed the contrite Bobby (she always +_was_ contrite when caught in a fault, for all her sauciness and +lightness arose from thoughtlessness) “I really forgot—I did not mean +to make a noise in the corridor.” + +“Humph! did not mean—did not mean? What excuse is _that_, pray?” + +“Not a very good one, I am afraid,” admitted Bobby. “But I truly did not +intend to break a rule. We were all so much interested in the play——” + +“Yes. Quite so. It is evident that I will get little out of you young +ladies until the matter of this silly play is settled. I presume you are +one of the contestants, Miss Clara?” + +“Not at all, Miss Carrington,” said Bobby, demurely. “I _did_ start to +write one. It—it would have been a tragedy based upon several of the +main incidents in the Punic Wars. But I found that to give the matter +proper attention I should be obliged to neglect some of the studies, +and——” + +“That will do, Miss Hargrew,” interposed the teacher, severely. “You +bring me on Friday afternoon a resume of those same Punic Wars—say a +thousand words, I shall learn thereby just how much you know about the +subject you selected for your play.” + +Perhaps Bobby deserved what she got; but she “pulled a dreadfully long +face” about it, while the other girls were inclined to enjoy her +chagrin. + +As for Jess Morse, it seemed to her that the waiting for the +announcement of the prize-winner was too hard a cross to bear. So much +depended upon the decision of the committee—it did seem as though she +could not keep her mind upon the lessons. + +If she won—_if she won!_—there would be plain sailing in the domestic +waters of the Morses’ life—and that had come to mean a great deal to +the girl. For even Mrs. Prentice’s kindness to them had not cleared away +all the troubles for Jess Morse. + +True, the account at Mr. Closewick’s had been paid. Jess, too, had seen +to it that the month’s rent for their new home was met and a little +something paid each week on the running store accounts. + +But when Mrs. Morse drew her salary for the last week from the +_Courier_—and it amounted to nearly ten dollars that week—she had been +obliged to pay the money over to her dressmaker. She had found it +necessary to order a new costume, if she was to follow the fashionable +receptions, and the like, on the Hill. This matter of her mother being a +society reporter, Jess feared, would cost them more in the end than it +was worth to them. + +And now they began the New Year with positively nothing in the family +purse. And there was so much needed. There would be another reception at +the M. O. R. house this very week and Jess told herself that she could +not go because of her lack of a gown. Ah! these things were all +veritable tragedies to her. + +Lily Pendleton was very sure that she was going to take the prize. And +she was not afraid to talk about it. + +“Mother saw Mr. Monterey, and I am sure he was impressed by what she +told him,” she announced. “Why, when the New Century Club met at our +house last week, I read two acts of my play, and all the ladies said it +was fine.” + +“Aren’t you modest!” grumbled Bobby. “I should think it would pain you.” + +“Now, don’t you get saucy, Bobby,” warned Lily. “_You_ are not +interested in this contest, that’s sure.” + +“Huh!” cried Bobby. “I knew better than to try to write any such thing. +If I won the prize nobody would believe that I wrote it.” + +“Oh, Bob,” said Dora Lockwood. “You are _too_ modest.” + +“Yes, sir—ree!” returned Bobby. “I know it. I am of the same modest and +withdrawing nature as the turtle.” + +“The turtle?” + +“Yep,” said Bobby, “You know what the little boy said when he first went +into the country? He came running to his father and says: ‘Oh, Dad! +what’s this thing I found? When I poked it, it put its hands and feet in +its pockets and swallowed its head!’ Now, there can’t be anything much +more retiring than the turtle—or _me_.” + +The bell called them in for the final session then, and half an hour +before closing time the signal from Mr. Sharp’s office announced that +the girls of all classes were to file to the Assembly hall and take +their seats. On this occasion the boys were not present. + +“If I don’t get it I hope you do, Jess,” whispered Laura Belding to her +chum as they went to their seats. + +But to herself Jess kept saying: “Oh, it would be too good to be +true—too good to be true! It would be just like a story-book.” + +Mr. Sharp was smiling when he rose to speak. + +“I must admit that I am surprised—happily surprised,” he began. +“Several of the plays submitted to the committee are really marked by a +vigor of style and originality of text and plot that have delighted me. +Particularly are ‘The Strong Defense,’ by Miss Belding, ‘Appearances,’ +by Miss Hilyard, ‘The Arrow’s Flight,’ by Miss Agnew and ‘Harrowdale,’ +by Miss Buford to be praised upon these points. + +“Of course, there were some handed in to the committee that were utterly +unintelligible; the writers had not grasped the first principles of +play-writing. But, as a whole, I am proud of your efforts, and I know +Miss Gould is. I only fear that many of you young ladies who began plays +did not finish them. It narrowed the choice down to a very few. + +“And yet,” pursued Mr. Sharp, “there was really little doubt in the +minds of any of the committee at the first reading of the manuscripts. +And when the plays considered, from a literary standpoint, really +acceptable, were put in the hands of Mr. Monterey for a final reading +and judgment, we were assured that our opinion was correct. + +“There is but one, among them all, that is a really _actable_ (pardon +the coining of the word), and that one, too, has in it the elements of a +really heart-moving story. The author has failed in many of the +professional rules of play-writing—even her grammar is somewhat shaky +in spots,” added Mr. Sharp, smiling suddenly. “But the story is so sweet +and so moving, and is so well fitted to the acting capacity of you girls +and your brothers, that there is not the shadow of a doubt as to the +worth of the piece and the success of the writer.” + +For a moment he was silent. The girls were eager, Lily Pendleton preened +herself in her seat. Her play had not been named when the principal gave +lukewarm praise to those mentioned. She was sure that he now referred to +her and to her play. + +On the other hand, Jess Morse had lost all hope. Her poor little play +was not even mentioned, as Chet would have said, “among the also rans!” + +“I am glad to announce—and to congratulate the young lady at the same +time,” said Mr. Sharp, “that Miss Josephine Morse is the winner of the +two hundred dollars offered by Mrs. Kerrick, the title of her play being +‘The Spring Road.’” + +It came like a thunderbolt! Jess could only gasp and stare up at him +until his smiling, rosy face, and the big spectacles, were blurred in a +mist that seemed to rise before her like a curtain. + +Bobby Hargrew started the cheering; but it was Laura who reached Jess +first and hugged her _tight_. + +“I’m just as disappointed as I can be!” she cried. “I actually thought +_my_ play was going to be best. But as it wasn’t—— Why, Jess, I’m +almost as happy over your winning it as you can be yourself!” + + + + +CHAPTER XVII—LILY PENDLETON IS DISSATISFIED + + +“I consider it a very unfair decision—unfair in every particular,” +proclaimed Lily Pendleton, after school. “Why, he did not even _mention_ +‘The Duchess of Dawnleigh.’ I can’t believe that Mr. Monterey even _saw_ +my play. I certainly shall make inquiries.” + +Bobby Hargrew was caustic. “‘The Duchess of Dawnleigh!’” she repeated. +“Say Lil! would you really know a live duchess if you saw one coming up +the street? Why didn’t you write about something you knew about?” + +“I guess I know as much about duchesses as _you_ do, Bobby Hargrew!” + +“I hope so,” granted Bobby, cheerily. “If I had to go up against a +duchess—a real, live one—I expect I’d be like the little milliner in +Boston, when some great, high-and-mighty personages came there from +England. One of them was a sure-enough duchess, and she sent for the +little milliner to do some work for her. + +“The little workwoman was just about scared into a conniption,” chuckled +Bobby, “when she found she had to go to the grand hotel to meet the +grand lady and so asked a friend who knew a little more about the +nobility than _she_ did, what she should do when she entered the grand +lady’s presence. + +“‘Why, when you enter the room,’ explained the friend, ‘merely bow, and +in speaking to her say “Your Grace.”’ + +“The little milliner,” continued Bobby, “thought she could do that all +right, and she went to the interview with the duchess without any dress +rehearsal. When she got inside the lady’s door she bowed very low and +says, right off: + +“‘For what we are about to receive, Oh, Lord, make us truly grateful!’” + +But While there may have been some disappointment in the hearts of some +of the girls of Central High who had striven for the prize, they not yet +having heard Jess Morse’s play read, even the disappointed ones were not +niggardly with their congratulations. + +Jess walked in a maze that afternoon when she went home, Laura on one +side and Nell Agnew on the other, while Bobby pirouetted around them +like a very brilliant and revolving planet. + +“And is there a part in your play for me?” demanded the irrepressible. +“I just dote on actin. But no thinking part for mine, young lady! I must +at least be important enough in the play to say: ‘Me Lord! the carriage +waits.’” + +“You could play the part of _Puck_ or _Ariel_, Bobby,” declared Nellie +Agnew. + +“Hah! did you use those characters in ‘The Arrow’s Flight’?” gibed +Bobby. “No wonder it was turned down then. Stealing boldly from +Shakespeare!” + +“No, I didn’t, Miss!” returned Nell, rather sharply. “I hope you noticed +that I was one of those who was ‘honorably mentioned.’” + +“Sure. Mr. Sharp let you all down easy,” chortled Bobby. + +“I believe the decision in the contest was eminently fair,” declared +Laura. “Yet I thought I would surely win.” + +“So did I,” cried Nell. + +“And I didn’t even dare _hope_ for it,” said Jess, awe-stricken. “It’s +just the most wonderful thing that ever happened.” + +But Mrs. Morse took the success of “The Spring Road” quite as a matter +of course. + +“There, Josephine!” she exclaimed. “Now you can have the new clothes you +are really suffering for——” + +Jess decided that the argument might as well come right then. So she +halted her mother on the verge of her plans for renewing the girl’s +wardrobe in a style more befitting the means of Lily Pendleton’s mother, +than her own! + +“We have got to pay our debts,” declared the girl, warmly. “Every penny +must be paid, Mother, dear. Let’s be free of bills and duns for once, at +least. Let us start square with the world—and stay square if we can.” + +Mrs. Morse did not wish her daughter to use the prize money for their +general needs. Jess had much trouble to convince her that it would make +her, Jess, far happier to do that than to own the finest set of furs, or +the most beautiful evening gown, that would be displayed upon the Hill +that winter. + +She did agree, finally, however, to have a new dress so that she could +attend the M. O. R. reception that week, at which her play was read +aloud by Miss Gould herself, and it was praised by the audience until +Jess’s ears fairly burned. Then the committee properly appointed went +into executive session and plans for the production of “The Spring Road” +went with a rush. + +It was easy to choose a cast of characters. With a little advice from +Jess it was not hard to select the very girls and boys best fitted to +act in the piece. And such selection was made that very week, the +typewritten ‘sides’ distributed to the several players, and the boys and +girls went to work to memorize their parts. Lance Darby and Chet Belding +were both in the play, and although neither Laura, nor Jess herself, had +a part, they were both so busy (for they were on the M. O. R. play +committee) that for a few days athletics and sports were well-nigh +neglected. + +Through the good-natured manager of the Centerport Opera House, scenery +and much of the properties and some costumes for the inferior characters +were to be obtained. But the principal characters would furnish their +own costumes, and that is where Lily Pendleton began to lose her +dissatisfaction. Disappointed as she had been regarding the decision of +the committee, when she found that she was cast for an important part in +Jess’s play she “came out of the sulks,” as Bobby termed it. + +Mr. Monterey suggested to the committee, too, the name of a man to take +charge of the rehearsals—really, to be stage director of “The Spring +Road.” He came to the M. O. R. house one afternoon to read the play—a +dapper, foreign-looking man of an indeterminate age, who continually +twirled a silken black mustache and listened devotedly to any girl who +talked to him. + +Lily began to cultivate Mr. Pizotti assiduously. Really, one might have +supposed _she_ had written the play, instead of Jess Morse, she was so +frequently in conference with Mr. Pizotti that first afternoon. + +Bobby, who had likewise been cast for a part in “The Spring Road,” +watched Lily’s actions with the stage manager with a good deal of +disgust. + +“What do you know about that foolish girl?” she demanded. “I’ll wager +that greasy foreigner has got a wife and ten children—and neglects +them. He has brilliantine on that moustache, and he smells of hair-oil, +and I’ll wager, too his hair will show gray at the roots, and I _know_ +it is thin on top.” + +“How wise you are, Miss Bobby,” said Nellie, who heard her. “For a child +you seem to have learned a lot.” + +“I’m foxy,” returned Bobby, grinning impishly. “I’m fully as smart as +that kid brother of Alice Long’s. He came up to see us the other +day—Alice brought him. Aunt Mary is real old fashioned, you know, and +she sat in the kitchen darning and Tommy was playing around the floor. +She thought it was getting toward tea time and she said to him: + +“‘Tommy, go into the front hall and see if the clock is running, that’s +a good boy.’ + +“Tommy came back after a minute, and says: + +“‘No, ma’am, it ain’t running; it’s standing still. But it’s wagging +it’s tail!’” + +“And there’s Lil putting on her hat in a hurry so as to meet the man +when Miss Gould is through with him, and walk down the block——Did you +ever?” exclaimed Jess. + +“Poor Pretty Sweet!” groaned Bobby. “_His_ nose is out of joint. He has +been Lil’s bright and shining cavalier for months. Dear, dear me! The +Duchess of Dusenberry—was _that_ the name of Lil’s play?—sure does +have her favorites, and like the _Queen of Hearts_ in “Alice in +Wonderland,” has only one command for her discarded courtiers: ‘Off with +their heads!’” and Bobby giggled as she peered from the window to watch +the dapper Mr. Pizotti and Lily Pendleton walk down the street side by +side. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII—THE SKI RUNNERS + + +The New Year had ushered in the first big fall of snow—and it kept +coming. Every few days, for the following fortnight, snow fell until +Centerport’s street-cleaning department was swamped, and the drifts lay +deep upon the vacant lots and against fences and blind walls. + +Skating was done for, for the ice on the lake had become overloaded, and +had broken up into a shifting mass of blocks, grinding against each +other when the wind blew, and threatening the safety of any craft that +tried to put out in it. + +So traffic on Lake Luna ceased, and, of course, iceboating was likewise +impossible. Chet and Lance Darby, had they not been so extremely busy +learning their parts in the new play, could not have used their +aero-iceboat during this time. Sleds were out in force, +however—bobsleds, double-runners, toboggans, “framers,” and every sort +of coasting paraphernalia. Even the Whiffle Street hill was made a +coasting place by the young folk of the neighborhood, much to the +despair of some grouty people who had forgotten their own youth, and who +either telephoned their complaints to the police, or sprinkled ashes on +the slide in the early morning hours. + +It was at this time, however, that Mrs. Case, the girls’ physical +instructor of Central High, took her class in ski running out into the +open. + +At first the dozen or more girls had practiced on their athletic field, +which was now snow-covered, too. It was a particularly odd experience to +stand upon narrow boards of ash, some ten feet in length, and then try +to shuffle along on them without tipping sideways, or plunging +head-first into a drift. + +Each ski runner held a pole, with a spike in one end, and this was an +aid to balancing, as well as of additional use if one tumbled down. It +was no easy task, the girls found, to get up when they had been thrown +into a drift. + +“My!” commented Bobby Hargrew, “if you cross your feet going down hill +on these things, you’re likely to dislocate every joint in your body.” + +“Be sure you do not cross your feet, then,” advised Mrs. Case, grimly. +“I have shown you all the correct position to stand upon these skis. The +professional ski runner does not even use a pole. He will take the steep +sides of mountains at a two-mile a minute rate. I have seen them do so +in Switzerland and in Sweden and Norway. And they will jump into the air +from the verge of high banks, and land on the drift at the bottom with +perfect balance.” + +“This is going to be no cinch to learn,” pronounced Bobby. “I know it’s +going to be some time before I am good enough at it to jump off the top +of Boulder Head on Cavern Island—now you see!” + +“You would better take a much less difficult jump first,” advised Mrs. +Case, smiling. “It will be enough fun for us to learn to travel on the +skis without any frills. In Europe—especially on the road between St. +Moritz and Celerina—I have often seen ski riders with horses. A horse +trots ahead, drawing several riders on skis, who cling together by the +aid of a rope fastened to the horse’s collar. Sometimes each rider has a +horse, and they race horses just as though they were riding in sleighs. + +“It is great sport, but like every other healthful form of athletics, it +is often made dangerous and objectionable by those who are reckless, or +rough. We will learn to balance ourselves, and to coast down a gentle +descent.” + +So, the next Saturday, the teacher and more than a dozen girls of +Central High piled into a big, straw-filled sleigh, and were whisked out +into the hills south of the city. The inn at Robinson’s Woods—a popular +picnicking ground in summer—was made their headquarters, and there they +left the sleigh and took to the difficult skis. + +The climb to the top of the bluff overlooking the speedway, on which +everybody—almost—who owned a sleigh was driving that afternoon, was +not an easy one for the girls. Mrs. Case, holding her body erect, yet +easily, shuffled up the incline with such little apparent effort that +some of her pupils were in despair. + +“We’ll never be able to run as you do, Mrs. Case!” cried Dora Lockwood. +“Never! Why—ouch! There, I came near tumbling down that time.” + +“Keep your balance. Use the pole if you have to,” advised the +instructor. “It is not a running motion—it is more like a slide.” + +“Say!” growled Bobby, who was having trouble, too. “It beats the +‘debutante slink,’ that came in with narrow skirts. I feel as if I was +tumbling down every second.” + +But they gained confidence in time. They reached the top of the bluff +and then the long, easy slope, right beside the speedway, spread, +spotless, before them. Mrs. Case showed them how to start, and after a +fashion several of the bigger girls reached the bottom of the hill, and +then panted up again, pronouncing it the best ever! + +Bobby would not be outdone, as she said, “by anything in skirts,” and so +she ventured. Halfway down the hill one of her skis must have struck +something—perhaps the stub of a bush sticking out of the snow. Whew! +Bobby turned almost a complete somersault! + +She was buried so deep in a drift—and head first, at that—that it took +both Laura and Mrs. Case to pull her out. + +“Oh-me-oh-my!” cried Bobby, who looked like an animated snow-girl for +the moment. “And just as I was getting on so well, too! Wasn’t that +mean?” + +“Perhaps you’d better not try any more to-day, Clara” said the +instructor. + +“And let those other girls get ahead of me? Well! I guess not!” declared +Miss Hargrew, and she ploughed back to the top of the hill, fastened her +feet upon the skis again, and started once more. + +Laura and Jess Morse were on the hilltop, looking out upon the white +track over which the sleighs were flying. + +“Look there!” gasped Jess, seizing her chum’s arm. “Isn’t that the +Pendletons’ sleigh?” + +“Of course it is. With the big plumes and the pair of dappled grays? And +that stiff and starched coachman driving? No mistake,” admitted Laura. + +“Who’s in the sleigh with Lil?” demanded Jess. + +“As I live!” cried her chum, in a somewhat horrified tone. “It—it is +that Pizotti—that man!” + +“Can you beat her?” said Jess, shaking her head. + +“How foolish!” added Laura. “He is not a good man. He has known her so +short a time—and to go sleigh-riding with her. Lil will be talked +about, sure enough.” + +“Well, I don’t know as _we_ need to worry about her,” said Jess, +shrugging her shoulders. + +But Laura Belding could not put her schoolmate’s indiscreet actions out +of her mind so easily. She wondered if Mrs. Pendleton knew of Lily’s +familiarity with the foreign-looking Pizotti. The man might know his +business as a stage director; but he certainly was neither of the age, +nor the condition in life, to be cultivated as a friend by any young +girl. + +Lily Pendleton was so foolishly romantic, and so crazy about theatrical +matters, that to be noticed by any person connected with the stage, or +theatrical affairs, quite turned her head. And then, she still talked a +great deal about her own play, “The Duchess of Dawnleigh.” She was sure +it had not been given a proper reading—especially by Mr. Monterey. +Perhaps, for reasons best known to himself, this stranger, Mr. Pizotti, +had promised the foolish girl that he would help her get “The Duchess of +Dawnleigh” produced. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX—THE FIRST DRESS REHEARSAL + + +Laura Belding was a particularly frank, outspoken girl, and when she met +Lily Pendleton that Saturday night at the rehearsal of Jess’s play, she +came out “flat-footed,” as her chum would have said, with the question: + +“Who was that in the sleigh with you to-day, Lil?” + +Lily flushed instantly, bridled, and smiled. “Who do you s’pose?” she +returned. + +“I don’t believe your mother knew you had that theatrical man to drive +with you,” said Laura, bluntly. + +“Why, how you talk! I merely met Signor Pizotti, and took him up——” + +“You don’t know who he is,” spoke Laura. + +“Oh, indeed, Miss! And do _you?_” demanded Lily, rather sharply. + +“No, And I don’t want to know him.” + +“He is a very scholarly man—and he knows all about staging this play. +If it wasn’t for him, I guess, ‘The Spring Road’ would suffer from +frost,” said Lily, with an unkind laugh. + +“That may be,” said Laura, flushing a little herself, for any slur cast +upon her chum’s play hurt her, too. “But his knowledge of how to produce +or stage a play does not establish his private character.” + +“Pooh! you are interfering in something that you know nothing about,” +declared Miss Pendleton, loftily. “And it does not concern you at all.” + +“I do not believe your mother would approve,” ventured Laura. + +“Never you mind about my mother,” snapped Lily, and turned her back on +Mother Wit. + +The latter took herself to task later, thinking she had been too +presumptuous. + +“But really,” she said to Jess, on their way home that evening, “I did +not mean to be. Only, the man looks so unreliable. I’m afraid of him.” + +“I’m not afraid of him,” said Jess, decidedly. “I only dislike him. But +there is no accounting for tastes. My mother knew of a foolish girl who +wrote to an opera tenor—one of those handsome, spoiled foreigners, and +she sent him her photograph and told him how much she liked his +singing—and all that. Just a silly letter, you know. But she didn’t +sign her name and she thought he would never learn who she was. + +“But he went to the photographer,” continued Jess, “and bribed him to +tell who the girl was, and by that time she had written to the man +several times, and he had written to her. So then he threatened her that +if she did not give him five hundred dollars he would send her letters +to her father. And she was in dreadful trouble, for she was afraid of +what her father would do.” + +“Oh, Lil won’t do anything like _that!_” gasped Laura. “I don’t believe +she even thinks she _cares_ about that Pizotti. It is only his foreign +way that makes it appear so. But I believe he is flattering her about +her play, and perhaps will get money from her or her mother.” + +“Pizotti! Ha!” grunted Jess, before they separated. “I’m like Bobby +Hargrew: I don’t believe that’s even his name. It sounds too fancy to be +a _real_ name.” + +But Mr. Pizotti was an able man in his business. He came from time to +time to the M. O. R. house and his advice regarding the play was always +practical. He was something of a musician, too, and played the +accompaniments for the girls who sang in “The Spring Road.” He suggested +improvements in the costumes, too; and Lily Pendleton was entirely +guided by his taste in her choice of the gowns she was to wear in the +production. + +Mrs. Pendleton was a very busy woman in a social way and allowed her +daughter to do about as she pleased. Lily aped the manners of girls who +had long since graduated from school and were flashy in their dress and +manners. + +To tell the truth, the after-hour athletics, governed by Mrs. Case, had +been the one saving thing in Lily Pendleton’s life for some months. She +would have become so enamored of fashion and frivolity, had it not been +for the call of athletics, that she would have fallen sadly behind in +her school work. + +But she liked certain activities enjoyed by those who were attentive to +Mrs. Case’s classes; and to gain these privileges one had to stand well +in her general studies. Lily was smart enough, was a quick student, and +so kept up her school work. + +This business of acting appealed to her immensely. She was “just crazy +about it,” as she admitted to her particular friend, Hester Grimes. + +“I wish my folks were poor, so that I would have to work when I leave +school,” she declared. “Then I’d go on the stage myself.” + +“You wouldn’t!” exclaimed Hester. + +“I would in a minute. And this Signor Pizotti could place me very +advantageously——” + +“Pooh! you don’t believe anything that fellow says, do you?” demanded +her chum, who was eminently practical and had none of the silly ideas in +her head that troubled Lily. + +“You don’t know him!” exclaimed Lily. + +“Don’t want to,” replied Hester, gruffly. + +Preparations for the first dress rehearsal of “The Spring Road” went on +apace. But, of course, Bobby Hargrew _would_ have bad luck! She was +thrown from Short and Long’s bobsled one night and had to be helped +home. The hurt to her foot was a small matter; but the doctor said she +would have to wear her arm in a sling for a time. + +“And how can I play _Arista_ with my arm strapped to my side?” wailed +Bobby, when Jess and Laura came in to commiserate with her over the +accident. “Oh, dear me! I am the most unlucky person in the world. If it +was raining soup I’d have a hole in _my_ dipper!” + +Mr. Monterey, the local manager, came himself to the dress rehearsal. He +only sat out front, and watched and listened; and he went away without +expressing an opinion to anybody. Yet Jess saw him there and was excited +by the possibility of Mr. Monterey’s recognizing the value of the play +for professional purposes. + +At the Morse domicile things were going better, and the girl’s mind was +vastly relieved from present troubles. Yet she was wise enough to see +that in the offing the same danger of debt threatened them if they were +not very, very careful. + +It was true that scarcely half the prize money had been spent; yet Mrs. +Morse’s regular work on the _Courier_ barely fed them; and her success +with the popular magazines was but fitful. Sometimes two months passed +without her mother receiving even a ten-dollar check from her fugitive +work. + +Oh, if she could only find somebody who would take the play—after the +M. O. R.’s had made use of it—and whip it into shape for professional +use, and give her a part of the proceeds! + +That was the thought continually knocking at the door of Jess Morse’s +mind. It was “too good to be true,” yet she kept thinking about it, and +hoping for the impossible, and dreaming of it. + +However, the dress rehearsal of “The Spring Road” was pronounced by the +teachers and Mr. Pizotti as eminently satisfactory. Bobby was +letter-perfect in her part, if she _did_ have “a damaged wing,” as she +said. And most of the other important roles were well learned. + +The very prettiest girl of Central High had been chosen for the chief +female character, and in this case prettiness went with brains. She had +learned her part, and was natural and graceful, and was altogether a +delight. + +As for Launcelot Darby, he was the most romantic looking _Truant Lover_ +that could have been found. And he played with feeling, too, although +his mates were making a whole lot of fun of him on the side. But Laura +had urged him to do his best, and Lance would have done anything in his +power to please Mother Wit. + +Chet Belding, as a peasant, “made up” well, and was letter perfect, too, +in his part, if a little awkward. But that did not so much matter, +considering the character he had to portray. And, of course, he would do +nothing to belittle Jess’s play. His whole heart was in his work, too. + +So, after that first dress rehearsal, the committee and Jess were +hopeful of success. The time for the production of the play was set, the +tickets printed, and out of school hours everything was in a bustle of +preparation for the great occasion. + + + + +CHAPTER XX—“MR. PIZOTTI” + + +“Listen to this!” + +Bobby Hargrew, her arm still in a sling, seized Jess Morse by the wrist +and “tiptoed” along the corridor of the second wing of Central High, +where the small offices were located, and with tragic expression pointed +to a certain door that stood ajar. + +Jess, amazed, did not speak, but listened. Out of the room came a +muffled voice, but the words spoken were these: + +“Unhand me! Nay, keep your distance, Count Mornay! I am no peasant wench +to be charmed either by your gay coat or your gay manner. Ah! your +villainies are known to me, nor can you hide the cloven hoof beneath the +edge of Virtue’s robe.” + +“Ha! ha!” chuckled Bobby, almost strangling with laughter. “He ought to +have worn boots and so hidden his ‘cloven hoof.’ Come away, Jess, or I +shall burst! Did you ever hear the like?” + +“Why—why, what is it?” demanded Jess, mystified. + +“Oh, don’t! Wait till I laugh!” chuckled Bobby, when they were around +the corner of the corridor again. “Isn’t that rich?” + +“Who was it talking?” asked Jess. + +“Talking! Didn’t you recognize that oration?” + +“I did not. Mother doesn’t allow me to read any penny-dreadful story +papers, magazines or books.” + +“Oh, ho! Wait!” gasped Bobby. “That’s Lil.” + +“Lily Pendleton?” + +“You evidently haven’t heard any of the ‘Duchess of Dusenberry’ before. +_That’s it!_” + +“Not part of her play?” + +“That is one of the melodramatic bits,” said Bobby, weakly, leaning +against the wall for support. “Yes, really, Jess. That is in her play. +I’ve heard her recite it before.” + +“My goodness me!” gasped Jess. + +“It’s not _all_ so bad, I guess. But when she gets flowery and romantic +she just tears off such paragraphs as that. ‘Nor can you hide the cloven +hoof beneath the edge of Virtue’s robe.’ Isn’t that a peach?” + +“Bobby!” exclaimed Jess, breathless herself by now, “you use the worst +slang of any girl in Central High.” + +“That’s all right. But Lil’s using worse language than I ever dreamed +of,” laughed Bobby. “I’ve heard her spouting that sort of stuff time and +time again. When she shuts herself up, presumably to study her part in +your play, half the time she is reciting her own lines. She likes the +sound of ’em. And she had that Pizotti fellow backed in a corner of the +front hall at the M. O. R. house the other afternoon, reciting that same +sort of stuff to him. + +“Repeating her play?” + +“Yep. The silly! And he pretending that it was great, and applauding +her. I’ll wager that he sees a way to make money out of Lil Pendleton, +or he wouldn’t stand for it.” + +Jess carried this idea in her mind, although she was not as much +troubled by her schoolmate’s foolishness as was Mother Wit. There was a +loyalty among the girls of Central High, however, that few ignored. +Despite the fact that Jess had never especially liked Lily Pendleton, +she would have done anything in her power to help her. + +So, that very evening, when she was marketing, she chanced to see +something that brought Lil’s affairs into her mind again. She was going +into Mr. Vandergriff’s store when she saw a man, bundled in a big +ulster, talking with the proprietor. + +Griff came forward to wait on Jess, and the girl might not have noticed +the man by the desk a second time had she not overheard Mr. Vandergriff +say: + +“You take advantage of my good nature, Abel. Because I knew you in the +old country, you come here and plead poverty. I can’t see your family +suffer, for your wife is a nice woman, if you _are_ a rascal!” + +“Hard words! Hard words, Vandergriff,” muttered the other. + +Jess saw that he was a little man, and the high ulster collar muffled +the lower part of his face. But as he turned toward the door she caught +a glimpse of a glossy black mustache, and two beady black eyes. + +It was Mr. Pizotti! + +The girl was so astonished, for the man was shabbily dressed, and +shuffled out with several bundles under his arm, that she could scarcely +remember what else she wanted to buy when Griff asked her. + +“Oh, I say, Griff!” she demanded, breathlessly, and in a whisper. “Who +was that man who just went out?” + +“Why—oh, that was only Abel Plornish.” + +“Abel Plornish!” + +“Yep. Poor, useless creature,” said the boy, with disgust. “Or, so +father says. He knew Abel in England. You know, father came from London +before he was married,” and Griff smiled. + +“But this man—are you sure his name is Plornish?” + +“Quite, Jess. Why, he plays the violin, or the piano, in some cheap +moving picture place, I believe.” + +“Then he is a musician?” demanded Jess, breathlessly. + +“And a bad one, I reckon. But he has done other things. He’s been on the +stage. And he’s even worked in the Centerport Opera House, I believe.” + +“And that is really his name?” asked Jess. + +“It’s an awful one, isn’t it? Plornish! Nothing very romantic or fancy +about that,” laughed Griff. “Now, what else, Jess?” + +Jess was so disturbed by this discovery that she could only think to ask +Griff one more question. That related to where Plornish lived. + +“Somewhere on Governor Street. I think it’s Number 9. Tenement house. +Oh, they’re poor, and I believe when he gets any money he spends it on +himself. I saw him once on Market Street dressed like a dandy. But when +his wife and children come in here they look pretty shabby.” + +It wasn’t very late, and, anyway, Jess couldn’t have slept that night +without talking the matter over with Mother Wit. She left her basket in +the kitchen, saw that her mother was busy at her desk, and ran up +Whiffle Street hill to the Belding house. + +“Is dat suah yo’, Miss Jess?” asked Mammy Jinny, peering out of the side +door when Jess rang the bell. “Come right erlong in, honey. Yo’s jes’ as +welcome as de flowers in de Maytime. B-r-r! ain’t it cold?” + +“It is cold, Mammy,” said Jess to the Beldings’ old serving woman. +“Where’s Laura?” + +“She’s done gone up to her room ter listen ter Mars’ Chet an’ dat Lance +Darby boy orate dem pieces dey is goin’ to recite in school nex’ week.” + +“They are going to act in my play, Mammy!” cried Jess. + +“Mebbe so. Mebbe so. But it’s all recitationin’ ter me. Dat leetle Bobby +Hargrew was in here and she say it’s jes’ like w’en you-all useter +recite at de Sunday night concerts in de Sunday school room. An’ dem +pieces yo’ orated den was a hull lot nicer dan w’at Mars’ Chet is +sayin’. ’Member how you recited dat ‘Leetle drops o’ water, leetle +grains o’ sand’ piece, Miss Jess? Dat was suah a nice piece o’ po’try.” + +“And you don’t care for the parts you have heard of my play, Mammy?” +asked Jess, much amused. + +“Suah ’nuff, now! Did you make up disher play dey is goin’ ter act?” +demanded Mammy Jinny. + +“I certainly did.” + +“Wal, I hates ter hu’t yo’ feelin’s, Miss Jess,” said Mammy, gravely, +“but dat ‘Leetle drops o’ water’ po’try was a hull lot better—ter _my_ +min’! Ya’as’m! yo kin’ go right up. Yo’ll hear dem-all +a-spoutin’—spoutin’ jes’ like whales!” + +And so she did. Chet was reading his lines with much unction while +striding up and down Laura’s pretty little room. Lance and Mother Wit +were his audience. + +“For goodness sake, Chet!” cried Jess, breaking in. “Who told you your +part was tragic, and that ‘The Spring Road’ was tragedy?” + +“Huh?” questioned Chet, stopping short and blinking at her. + +“Do read the lines naturally. Don’t be ‘orating,’ as Mammy Jinny calls +it. I guess she’s right. ‘Little drops of water’ is better than all that +bombastic stuff. Do, do, my dear, speak it naturally.” + +“Hear her!” growled Chet “And she wrote it!” + +“I never really meant it to sound like that, Chet,” declared Jess, +shaking her head. “I really didn’t. Why! it sounds almost as bad as ‘The +Duchess of Dawnleigh.’” + +“Wha—what’s that?” demanded Lance. + +“Not Lil’s play?” cried Laura. “Have you heard it?” + +Jess told what she had heard at the door of the recitation room that +afternoon, and they laughed over it. + +“Yet I can see very well,” continued Jess, “that you actors can make my +words sound just as absurd if you want to. Do, _do_ be natural.” + +“That’s what I tell them,” sighed Laura. “I am glad you heard Chet +spouting here. One would think he was playing ‘Hamlet,’ or ‘Richard +III.’” + +Chet was a little miffed. But he soon “came out of it,” as Lance said, +and he was so fond of Jess anyway that he would have tried his best to +please her. + +He grew more moderate in his “orating” and the girls, as critics, were +better pleased. Lance took a leaf out of his chum’s book, too, and when +he declaimed his lines he succeeded in pleasing Jess and Laura the first +time. Besides, Lance was naturally a better actor than Chet. + +Mr. Pizotti had taught them how to enter properly, and how to take their +cues; but to Jess’s mind he was not the man to train amateurs to speak +their parts with naturalness. If Miss Gould had not given so much time +to the rehearsals of “The Spring Road” the play would have not been half +the success it promised to be. And, of course, the Central High teacher +gave her attention mainly to the girls in the cast of characters. + +When Lance and Chet lounged off to the latter’s den Jess instantly +poured into Laura’s ears her discovery of the identity of “Mr. Pizotti.” + +“Well, even at that he may be a man trying to earn his living. Many +stage people change their names for business reasons. ‘Plornish’ is not +an attractive name, you must admit,” said Laura, smiling. “‘Pizotti’ +fits his foreign look.” + +“But what is he trying to get out of Lil Pendleton?” demanded Jess, +bluntly. + +“That’s what troubles me,” admitted Mother Wit. “I believe he is trying +to get money out of Lily, or from her folks. And it has to do with Lil’s +play. You can see that she believes her play was slighted and that it is +a great deal better than yours, Jess.” + +“I guess she has a good opinion of it,” returned Jess, laughing. + +“Well, suppose this fellow tells her she is right, and that he can get +it produced, if she will put up the money?” suggested Mother Wit. “I—I +wish Lil would place confidence in me.” + +“Tell her mother.” + +“No use,” sighed Laura. “I doubt if she would even listen to me. She +wouldn’t want to be bothered. You know very well the kind of woman Mrs. +Pendleton is.” + +“Well, I don’t suppose it is any of our business, anyway,” spoke Jess. + +“It is. Lil is one of us—one of the girls of Central High. We have a +deep interest in anything that concerns her. The only trouble is,” +sighed Laura, “I don’t know just what is best to do.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXI—MOTHER WIT PUTS TWO AND TWO TOGETHER + + +The snow still mantled the ground, and the coasting and ski running +remained very popular sports with the girls and boys of Central High. +But a day’s hard rain, with a sharp frost after it, had given the +iceboating another lease of life, too. Lake Luna was a-glare from the +mainland to Cavern Island, and the freight boats had given over running +until the spring break-up. + +Not that there were no open places in the ice—for there were, and +dangerous holes, too. The current through the length of the lake was +bound to make the ice weak in places. But near the Centerport shore was +a long stretch of open ice that the authorities pronounced safe. + +Chet and Lance got the _Blue Streak_ out again and there wasn’t a girl +in the junior class who was not envious of Laura and Jess. Skating was +tame beside traveling at a mile a minute in an aero-iceboat; and the +other ice yachts were not in the same class with the invention of Chet +and Lance. + +The date set for the production of Jess’s play in the big hall of the +schoolhouse approached, however; and preparation for the event was +neglected by none of the M. O. R.’s or the other girls and boys in the +cast. + +Friday evening would see the first production; but the intention was to +give a matinee for the pupils of the three Centerport High Schools at a +nominal price on Saturday morning, and then a final performance Saturday +evening. From these three performances the committee hoped to gain at +least a thousand dollars, and possibly half as much more. This would be +a splendid addition to the somewhat slim building fund of the +M. O. R.’s. + +Lily Pendleton went about these days with a very self-satisfied +expression of countenance and such a mysterious manner that Bobby said +to her: + +“Huh! you look like an old hen that’s hidden her nest and thinks +nobody’s going to find it, What are you up to now?” + +“Don’t you wish you knew?” returned Lily. + +Even Hester Grimes admitted that she was not in Lil’s confidence. But +the hints Lily dropped troubled Mother Wit. + +Laura Belding had not forgotten the discovery her chum had made +regarding the identity of the man who called himself “Pizotti.” The +stage director would not again attend the performance of “The Spring +Road” until the day of the first production. Yet Laura believed that +Lily had an understanding of some sort with him. + +Governor Street, where Griff told Jess the Plornish family lived, was +one of the very poorest in that part of the city, being located at the +foot of the Hill and below Market Street itself. + +Laura and Jess went shopping one afternoon on Market Street; and despite +the fact that it was nipping cold weather, and that the street was a +mass of snow-ice, save on the car tracks, they walked home. The +sidewalks were slippery, and it took some caution to keep one’s feet; +but the chums were so sure of their balance that they stepped along +quite briskly. + +From Mr. Vandergriff’s store they saw a poorly dressed little +girl—perhaps eight years old, or so—dragging a soap box on runners. +The box had several packages of groceries in it, besides a bottle of +milk. + +Just as the child started across Market Street there came a heavy sleigh +with plumes, great robes, a pair of dapple gray horses, and a great +jingling of bells. The driver did not see the little girl with her box +until it was almost too late to pull out. + +It all happened in a flash! The peril was upon the child before she or +anybody else realized it; and it had passed her, only smashing her sled +and spilling her goods, in another moment. + +The sleigh, with the horses prancing, swept on and did not even stop for +its occupants to note the damage it had done. The child was left crying +in the gutter, with the groceries scattered about and the milk making a +white river upon the dirty ice. + +Laura sprang to aid the little one in picking up her goods; but Jess +exclaimed: + +“Did you see that, Laura?” + +“I should think I did! And they never stopped.” + +“But did you see who was in the sleigh?” + +“No.” + +“It was Lil—and that man was riding with her again.” + +“Pizotti?” gasped Laura. + +“Yes. Here! give me that bottle. I’ll run across and get another bottle +of milk from Mr. Vandergriff. We’ll have to help the little one carry +her stuff home. The little sled is smashed to smithereens.” + +“All right, Jess. Now, don’t cry, child!” exclaimed Mother Wit, kindly, +hovering over the little girl. “You won’t be blamed for this, I know.” + +But the child was staring after the sleigh instead of picking up her +goods, and with such a wondering look on her face that Laura asked: + +“What is the matter with you? What did you see?” + +The child still remained dumb, and Laura took her by the shoulder and +shook her a little. + +“What is your name?” she demanded. + +“Maggie,” said the little one, gulping down a sob. + +“Maggie what?” + +“No, ma’am; Maggie Plornish,” stammered the other. + +“My goodness me!” gasped Laura. “Did you see the man in that sleigh?” + +“No, ma’am! No ma’am!” cried the little girl, in great haste, and +shaking her head violently. “There warn’t no man in the sleigh.” + +“Yes there was, child.” + +“I didn’t see no man,” declared Maggie, energetically. “It was the lady +I seen.” + +“Do you know her?” asked Laura, slowly, convinced that the child was +deceiving her—or, at least, attempting to do so. + +“No, ma’am. I never seed her before.” + +It was evidently useless to try to get anything more out of the child on +that tack. But Laura was sure that there could not be two Plornish +families in Centerport, and if Jess had seen the stage director in Lily +Pendleton’s sleigh, it was plain that Maggie had seen him, too. And she +had recognized him. + +“Where do you live, little girl?” asked Laura, quietly, as she saw Jess +returning with a fresh bottle of milk. + +“Over ’ere on Governor Street. Number ninety-three, Miss.” + +“Lead the way, then,” said Laura, promptly. “We’ll help you carry your +things home and explain to mamma how you came to get them scattered. You +surely have a mamma, haven’t you?” + +“Yes, ma’am. And there’s a new baby. That’s who the milk’s for.” + +“Say! how many of you Plornish children are there?” asked Jess, to whom +Laura had immediately whispered the intelligence that this child was +evidently one of Mr. Pizotti’s progeny. + +“Seven, ma’am. But some’s older’n me and they’re workin’.” + +“Don’t you go to school?” asked Laura. + +“I can’t—not right now. We ain’t got good shoes to go ’round—nor +petticoats. And then, the baby didn’t come along until a month ago and +he has to be ’tended some while mamma washes and cleans up around.” + +Laura looked at Jess meaningly and asked: + +“Where’s your papa?” + +“Oh! he’s home,” said the child, immediately losing her smart manner of +speaking. + +“Doesn’t he work?” + +“Yes, ma’am. Sometimes.” + +“What’s his trade?” asked Jess. + +“Huh?” + +Maggie Plornish had suddenly become very dull indeed! + +“Doesn’t your father work regularly?” explained Laura, kindly. “Hasn’t +he any particular work?” + +Maggie considered this thoughtfully. Then she shook her head and with +gravity replied: “I guess he’s an outa.” + +“A what?” gasped Jess. + +“An outa, Miss.” + +“What under the sun’s an ‘outa’?” demanded Jess, looking at Laura. + +But Mother Wit understood and smiled. “You mean he’s ’most always out of +work?” she asked. + +Maggie Plornish nodded vigorously. + +“Yes, ma’am! He’s us’lly outa work. Most reg’larly. Yes, ma’am!” + +“Well for mercy’s sake!” gasped Jess, gazing at her chum in wonder. “Can +you beat _that?_ If this is the same family——” + +Laura stayed her with a look. “We’ll see,” said Mother Wit. “Lead on, +Maggie. We’ll see your mother, anyway.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXII—MRS. PLORNISH + + +Governor Street was just as dirty and squalid as any other +tenement-house street in the poorer section of a middle-class city. The +street-cleaning department had given up all hope before they reached +Governor Street, and the middle of the way was a series of ridges and +mountains of heaped-up, dirty, frozen snow. + +The snow had been cleaned from the sidewalks, and the gutters freed so +that the melting ice could run off by way of the sewers when the sun was +kind; but the way to Number 93 was not a pleasant one to travel. + +However, Laura and Jess, with little Maggie, reached the door in +question in a few minutes, A puff of steamy air—the essence of +countless washings—met the girls as the lower door was pushed open. +That is the only way the long and barren halls were heated—by the steam +from the wash-boilers. For Number 93 Governor Street was one of those +tenement houses which seem always to be in a state of being washed, and +laundered, and cleaned up; yet which never show many traces of +cleanliness, after all. + +“We live on the top floor,” said Maggie, volunteering her first remark +since starting homeward. + +“That doesn’t scare us,” said Laura, cheerfully. “Lead on, MacDuff!” + +“No. My name’s Plornish,” said this very literal—and seemingly +dull—little girl. + +“Very well, Maggie MacDuff Plornish!” laughed Mother Wit. “We follow +you.” + +The little girl toiled up the stairs like an old woman. Laura and Jess +caught glimpses of other tenements as they followed the child and saw +that there was real poverty here. Jess began to compare her situation +with that of these humble folk, and saw that she had much to be grateful +for. + +She was troubled over the lack of a new party dress, perhaps, or because +there were times when she and her mother were pinched for money. But the +bare floors and uncurtained windows of these “flats,” with the poor +furniture and raggedly clothed children, spelled a degree of poverty +deeper than Jess Morse had imagined before. + +A sallow woman met them at the door of one of the top-floor flats. She +was as faded as her calico dress. Her arms were lean and her hands +wrinkled, and all the flesh about her finger nails was swollen and of a +livid hue, from being so much in hot water. + +Indeed, two steaming tubs stood in the kitchen into which the girls of +Central High were ushered. A big wash was evidently under way, and Mrs. +Plornish wiped her arms and hands from the suds, as she invited the +girls in, staring in amazement at one and another meanwhile. + +“Your little Maggie met with an accident, Mrs. Plornish,” said Laura, +pleasantly, putting the packages she had carried upon the table. “And so +we helped her home with her groceries.” + +“And Mr. Vandergriff says never mind the bottle of milk that was +spilled,” explained Jess, setting the second bottle on the table. + +“You come from Mr. Vandergriff?” asked the woman, her faded cheek +coloring a trifle. + +Laura explained more fully. Mrs. Plornish seemed to have had her +motherly instincts pretty well quenched by time and poverty. + +“Yes’m. I expect Maggie’ll git runned over and killed some day on that +there Market Street,” she complained. “But I ain’t got nobody else to +send. Bob and Betty, and Charlemagne, air either at school or to +work——” + +“Where is your husband?” asked Laura, briskly. “Is he working?” + +“Off an’ on,” said the woman, but looking at the visitors a little +doubtfully. + +“Engaged just at present?” pursued Laura. + +“Look here, Miss,” said Mrs. Plornish, “air you charity visitors? Though +you _be_ young.” + +“We have nothing to do with charities,” Laura said. “We just came to +help Maggie. I didn’t know but I might know of something for your +husband to do if he is out of work.” + +“He ain’t. He’s got a job right now. And I guess it will turn out to be +a good one,” spoke Mrs. Plornish, and she smiled with sudden +satisfaction. + +“It seems to please you, Mrs. Plornish,” said Jess, quickly. “I hope you +will not be disappointed. Where is he working?” + +“Oh, this job o’ work is goin’ to take him out o’ town for a while,” +returned the woman, doubtfully. + +“Indeed? To Lumberport?” asked the insistent Jess. + +“No.” + +“To Keyport, then?” + +“I can’t tell you. It—it’s a secret—that is, it’s sort of a private +affair. Abel is a very smart man in his way—and this—er—this job will +bring him considerable money, I expect. I hope we’ll all be better off +soon.” + +She seemed excited by the prospect of her husband’s secret employment, +yet she was doubtful, too. Laura and Jess looked at each other and they +both came to the same conclusion. If Abel Plornish, alias “Mr. Pizotti,” +was scheming to get some money from the Pendletons, Mrs. Plornish knew +at least a little something about it. + +But Laura did not know how to get this information from the woman; nor +did the girl believe that it was really right for her to do so. But +Mother Wit thought it would do no harm to help the family if she could +do so without offending. She drew forth her purse and looked gently at +Mrs. Plornish. + +“You won’t mind if I give you something to spend on Maggie?” asked +Mother Wit, in her most winning way. “Do let me help her, Mrs. Plornish! +I really mean no offense.” + +“Why, you look an honest enough young lady,” said the woman. + +“Maggie says she needs shoes so that she can go to school. Don’t you +think you can spare her for at least a part of the time?” + +“Mebbe I’d better, Miss. The truant officer’s been around once,” said +Mrs. Plornish. “But the baby’s so small——” + +“If your husband is as successful as you think he’ll be,” interposed +Jess, sharply, “you’ll be able to afford to let her go, eh? Then you +will not have to work so hard yourself.” + +“That’s right, Miss!” cried Mrs. Plornish, briskly. + +Laura put the money for Maggie’s shoes into her hand. “I hope we may +come and see Maggie again?” she said, pinching the thin cheek of the +little girl, who had been staring at them all this time, without +winking, and without a word. + +“Sure you can, Miss! And thank you. Thank the young lady, Maggie,” +ordered Mrs. Plornish. + +Maggie gave a funny, bobbing little courtesy as the older girls went +out. Laura and Jess said nothing to each other until they reached the +street. Then the latter declared: + +“She knows something about it.” + +“About what?” asked Laura. + +“Whatever it is that’s going on. Whatever it is ‘Pizotti’ is doing.” + +“And we know he is staging your play for the M. O. R.’s,” said Laura, +quietly. “That’s all we _do_ know at present.” + +“But there’s something else.” + +“That we don’t know. I wish we did.” + +“And he’s going out of town!” + +“Perhaps that is not so,” returned Laura, thoughtfully. “Of course his +wife knows that he works under an assumed name. That is no crime, of +course——” + +“But there’s something odd about it all,” cried Jess. + +“All right. How are we going to find out? Lil won’t tell us——” + +“And it is her business—or her mother’s,” said Jess. “And that’s a +fact.” + +“She’s one of us—she’s a Central High girl,” repeated Laura. “If we can +save her from the result of her own awful folly, we should do so.” + +“Huh! And we don’t know what she’s to be saved from as yet!” cried Jess, +which ended the discussion for the time being. + +But that evening Bobby Hargrew hailed Jess in her father’s store. + +“Say, Eminent Author! what do you know about _this?_” + +“About what, Bobby?” returned Jess. + +Bobby was unfurling some sort of a folded paper which she had drawn from +that inexhaustible pocket of hers. + +“See! it’s a show bill. My cousin, Ed Pembroke, sent it to me from +Keyport. He says the town is plastered with them. Does it remind you of +anything?” and she began to read in a loud voice: + +“‘Coming! Coming! Coming! North Street Orpheum——’ same date as your +show here on Friday night, Jess.” + +“I see,” said Jess, peering over her shoulder as Bobby unctuously read +on: + +“‘High Class Entertainment for High Class people!’ Ha! that’s good,” +sniffed Bobby. “‘The Lady of the Castle’ played by a capable cast of +professional Thespians, who will assist the Talented Young Amateur, +GREBA PENDENNIS. ‘Her portrayal of the _Duchess_ is a Work of Art.’ Wow, +wow! Listen to that now!” cried Bobby, in great delight. “Wouldn’t you +think that was Lil Pendleton?” + +Jess stared at the bill, and whispered: “I would indeed.” + +“But of course it isn’t!” gasped Bobby, looking at Jess, in sudden +curiosity. + +“What is Lil’s middle name?” demanded Jess, suddenly. + +“Why—I—— Ah! she _has_ got a middle name, hasn’t she? She signs it +‘Lillian G. Pendleton!’” + +“That is it,” said Jess. + +“But of course this can’t be Lil?” cried Bobby, aghast. “‘The Lady of +the Castle’ might be another name for ‘The Duchess of Doosenberry’; +though. What do you think, Jess?” + +“I don’t know what to think,” said Jess. “But you give me that bill, +Bobby, and I’ll show it to Mother Wit.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII—“CAUGHT ON THE FLY” + + +The last few days before the first performance of “The Spring Road” was +a whirl of excitement for most of the girls of Central High, and all +those belonging to the M. O. R.’s. or who were to take part in the play. +Mr. Sharp, on his own responsibility, announced a general holiday for +Friday, with certain lessons to be made up to pay for the deducted time. + +“It is my opinion that little work can be expected from either the young +ladies or young gentlemen on the momentous day,” he said. “Besides, I +understand that Miss Gould desires to have a final rehearsal of the play +on Friday morning on the stage upstairs. Therefore, mere matters of +education may be put aside.” + +He was quite good natured about it, however, and entirely approved of +the attempt of Central High pupils to do something upon the stage that +was really “worth while.” And Jess Morse’s play was indeed far above the +average of amateur attempts. + +“You girls are invited to a dash on the _Blue Streak_ after the +rehearsal to-morrow, Sis,” Chet Belding said to Laura at dinner Thursday +evening. “Lance and I will show you some sport.” + +Mrs. Belding looked doubtfully at her husband. “Do you think that +iceboat Chet has built is really safe for the girls, James?” she asked. + +“Bless your heart, Mother!” returned the jeweler, his eyes twinkling, +“it’s quite as safe for Laura and Jess as it is for the boys.” + +“Ye—es, I suppose so,” admitted the good woman. “But it doesn’t _seem_ +so safe. Girls are different from boys.” + +“Not so different, nowadays,” grumbled Chet. “You ought to see some of +those husky Central High girls going off with Mrs. Case on their skis. +And ski running is as dangerous as iceboating—believe me!” + +“I _do_ believe you, my son. I have no reason to doubt your word,” +returned Mother Belding, quietly. + +“Oh, Mum! that’s only an expression——” + +“Please stick to English—and facts, Chetwood,” advised his mother. + +“I declare!” grumpily remarked her son. “A meal of victuals at this +house has got to be just like attending one of Old Dimple’s lectures.” + +“Chet!” spoke his father, sternly. + +“Well! I guess I didn’t mean it just that way—not the way it sounded,” +the boy said hastily. “But mother _does_ pick a fellow up so——” + +“I have been doing that all your life, my son,” said his mother. +“Whenever you stub your toe, mother has been there to comfort you.” + +“Got you there, Chet,” laughed Laura. “And you used to be a terrible +‘stumble heels,’ too.” + +“Say! you’re all down on me,” declared her brother, but in a milder +tone. “I reckon I’m not so popular in this house as I thought I was. But +that isn’t the answer to my question, Laura. Do you and Jess want to fly +with us to-morrow just after lunch?” + +“Of course we do,” replied his sister. “I don’t suppose mother has any +real objection?” + +“My objections to your sports and athletics seem to have very little +reality about them, children,” said Mrs. Belding. “Even my husband will +not give me backing.” + +“When I see Chet and Laura anemic, or otherwise sickly, as the result of +their out-of-door sports or gym. work, you will find me up in arms with +you against such activities, Mother,” declared Mr. Belding, jovially. +“I’d a good deal rather have little Mother Wit here half a Tom-boy——” + +“Which I’m not, I hope, Papa Belding!” cried Laura, quickly. + +“I should hope not,” said her mother. + +“All right,” laughed Mr. Belding. “But I would rather you were than like +a few of the girls who attend your school. Some of them are growing up +to womanhood too quickly to suit me. There’s that Pendleton girl——” + +“What do you know about Lily Pendleton, Father?” asked Laura, quickly. + +“Why, she dresses like a girl of twenty-five—and acts that grown up, +too,” observed the jeweler. “She was in the store a week or so ago. Now! +there’s another bad thing. Her mother lets her do just about as she +pleases, I guess.” + +“Mrs. Pendleton has always been very lenient with Lillian,” agreed his +wife. + +“The girl brought into my store a jewel box in which were things valued +at more than a thousand dollars, I believe. Old-fashioned jewels left +her by her grandmother. She thought of having some re-set And she really +wanted me to buy some of them. She said her mother wouldn’t care what +she did with them.” + +“Of course, James, you did not give the girl money?” exclaimed Mrs. +Belding. + +“Of course I did not! I am not a pawnbroker. But I valued the stones for +her, and she took them away. I wonder what she really meant by trying to +sell them?” + +Laura listened and flushed; but she remained silent. Since her visit to +the Plornish tenement, and since she had read the playbill from Keyport +that Jess had brought her, Laura had been very gravely exercised in her +mind regarding Lily Pendleton. But she could not bring herself to the +point of taking either her father or mother into her confidence. It was +not her own secret; it was Lily’s. + +The following morning the rehearsal of “The Spring Road” went with a +snap and vim that delighted everybody. Miss Gould could not praise the +girls and boys too highly. Even Mr. Pizotti signified his satisfaction +with the way in which the play proceeded. Really, the actual production +of the piece would go on well without his presence, although the sum +they had agreed to pay the stage manager covered the three performances +of the play already arranged for. + +Laura and Jess went down to the lake after luncheon to meet the two +boys. The _Blue_ _Streak_, fresh in a new coat of paint, and with every +part of the mechanism guaranteed in perfect order, was already hauled +out upon the ice. + +The surface of the lake was not as it had been when the girls had taken +their first ride on the aero-iceboat. Then the ice was like glass; but +now it was pebbly, broken in spots, and not a little “hummocky.” There +was a stiff wind blowing, too, and this broke up the thinner ice around +the water-holes. The course for sleighs and for iceboats was fairly +safe, however, all the way to Keyport. + +“Say! we just saw Lily going driving with that sleek little foreigner,” +said Lance, as the two girls appeared. “I should think Mrs. Pendleton +would send a chaperone with her daughter. Old Mike, the coachman, is +right under the girl’s thumb.” + +“What do you mean, Lance?” asked Laura, quickly. + +“Why, Lil Pendleton and the stage manager are out there in the +Pendletons’ sleigh. They’re aiming for Keyport. And Lil has a big box in +the sleigh. Guess they are taking lunch along.” + +“Lunch!” ejaculated Chet. “Why, that yellow box would hold enough for an +army.” + +“My goodness me! A yellow box?” cried Jess. “Was it that box in which +Lil has been bringing her costumes to and from the rehearsals?” + +“Dunno,” said Chet, not much interested. + +But Jess turned to her chum, eagerly. + +“You know, Laura, she insisted in packing the dresses all into that box +again this noon and taking them home with her as usual, although every +other girl left her costume in the dressing-rooms. Did you notice it?” + +“No,” said Laura, slowly. + +“Maybe she doesn’t expect to get back until it’s time to go on for the +evening performance,” suggested Lance. + +“That’s not it,” returned Laura, quietly. + +“What do you suppose that girl has got in her mind, Laura?” demanded +Jess, as the boys were making the final preparations for their start. + +“I do not know. But I believe she is the ‘talented young amateur’ +advertised to appear at the Keyport Orpheum to-night,” said Laura, +gravely. + +“You don’t mean it!” gasped Jess. Then she added, with sudden +excitement: + +“Why, she’ll spoil my play!” + +“If she is not here to play her part she will certainly interfere sadly +with the success of ‘The Spring Road,’” admitted Laura. + +“Oh, oh! That mean, mean thing!” cried Jess, under her breath. + +“She is taking her costumes to wear in the production of her own play, +which she has renamed ‘The Lady of the Castle,’” said Laura. “She will +make a lovely ‘Duchess of Doosenberry,’ as Bobby nicknamed it, in those +robes, Jess.” + +“Why, Laura, I believe you are not sympathetic,” cried Jess. + +“Don’t you be afraid, dear. Miss Lily will not appear as ‘the talented +young amateur, Greba Pendennis,’ if that is what she really intends to +attempt. I have fixed that.” + +“What do you mean?” demanded Jess. But just then the boys shouted to +them and they had to hurry to take their places in the iceboat + +“Chet,” said Laura, to her brother, as she settled herself aboard, “run +down near the Pendleton sleigh if you can. I want to speak to Lil.” + +“Just as you say, Sis,” returned her brother. “All ready? Let her go, +Lance! We’ll show these girls some traveling, eh?” + +The _Blue Streak_ was off in a moment and the way she tore over the ice +always gave the two girls, at first, a feeling as though a wreck were +imminent. But in a minute or two the feeling subsided, and through the +automobile goggles they both wore they dared look ahead. + +On this cold afternoon there were not many sleighs or iceboats on the +racing course between Centerport and Keyport. But suddenly Lance looked +around, grinned through his mask, and waved his hand toward the shore. +The girls immediately knew that he had sighted the Pendleton sleigh. + +Laura turned to look at her brother, and he nodded at her reassuringly. +Lance reduced the speed, and the _Blue Streak_ began to move shoreward. + +The girls could now see the sleigh plainly. The yellow box in which Lil +carried her costumes was a splotch of color against the white fur robes. +And there was Lil herself and the black figure of the little stage +director. + +The _Blue Streak_ ran closer and of a sudden the young folks aboard the +iceboat saw that something was amiss with the Pendletons’ horses. The +dapple grays were fat, well fed beasts, and the coachman was old and +rheumatic. Perhaps the appearance of another iceboat that had just +passed the sleigh had startled the horses. + +However that might be, old Mike was suddenly flung from his seat, and +the horses charged down the lake at a gallop, swinging the sleigh behind +them at a pace that threatened to overturn it at any moment! + +The four friends on the aero-iceboat could hear Lil scream. And up +sprang the little black figure of Pizotti, alias Plornish, and the next +moment he had leaped to the ice! + +The horses tore on, and Lil was really in peril. But Chet guided the +_Blue Streak_ right down to the runaway, coming so close that Lance +Darby was able to leap into the driver’s seat from the running iceboat. + +It was a feat that called for agility and coolness; but the boy did it +bravely. The next moment he was out on the tongue, had recovered the +trailing lines, and the dapple grays were soon brought to an abrupt +stop. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV—THE GREAT NIGHT + + +The event had certainly come to a startling climax. Even Lily herself, +writing a dozen “Duchess of Dawnleighs,” could not have imagined quite +so serious a situation to balk the determination of her created +heroines, as here had arrived to balk herself! + +“Well, Lil,” Laura said to her, as the girl got out of the sleigh. “I +guess you won’t run away to-day and leave us all in a fix—and spoil +Jess’s play. What do you think?” + +“Oh, Laura! is poor Mike hurt?” cried the girl, and from that moment +Laura thought better of her. For Lil showed she was not entirely +heartless. She had thought first of the old coachman who had served her +family for so many years, and who was even then probably helping her to +get to Keyport and the expected performance of “The Duchess of +Dawnleigh,” against his own good sense. + +“Here he comes, limping,” said Laura, rather brusquely. “He’s not dead. +But how about Plornish?” + +“Plornish?” returned Lil, puzzled. + +“Pizotti, then, if you prefer his stage name.” + +“Is—isn’t Pizotti his name?” demanded Lil, still struggling with her +tears. + +“His real name is Abel Plornish,” said Laura, bluntly. She saw no use in +“letting Lily down easy.” “He has a wife and seven children living down +on Governor Street, in a miserable tenement. He neglects them a good +deal, I believe. But this time, if he had made what he expected to out +of you——By the way, Lil, what were you going to pay him?” + +“I—I——For putting me on the stage with his company?” she stammered. + +“Is that the way he put it? Well, yes,” said Laura. “It’s the same +thing. He was going to star you in your own play, was he?” + +“Ye—es,” sobbed Lily. “And now it’s all spoiled! And I was going to +take all the money I pawned grandmother’s jewels for——” + +“Goodness me! How much?” snapped Laura. + +“Five hundred dollars.” + +“Has he got the cash?” + +“No,” sobbed Lil. + +“All right, then. No harm done. I went to Mr. Monterey and he found out +that Plornish had got together no company at all. You were the only +person who had learned a part in your play, I guess, Lily. Ah! Chet’s +got him.” + +Indeed, Chet had stopped the aero-iceboat and run back to the prostrate +stage director. Plornish had a broken leg and had to be lifted by both +boys into the Pendleton sleigh. Old Michael could manage the horses +again and turned them about. Laura elected to go back to Centerport with +the injured man and the very-much-disturbed Lily Pendleton. + +“Now, just see the sort of a man this fellow is,” said Laura, paying no +attention to the groanings of Plornish, “He was intending to get the +money from you at Keyport and then disappear. All he spent was merely +for the bills put up advertising the show—the show which he never +intended would come off, Lil! And you were going down there and leaving +us all in the lurch!” + +“Oh, I’m sorry!” groaned Lil. + +“I hope so. Sorry enough to go home and rest and prepare to play your +part in ‘The Spring Road’ to-night,” spoke Laura, tartly. + +“Oh, dear me! how can I?” cried the girl. + +“If you don’t,” said Laura, frankly, “I won’t keep this affair a secret. +You will be the laughing stock of all Central High. I am not going to +allow Jess Morse’s play to be spoiled because of _you_. If you were so +jealous and envious that you did not want to see Jess’s play succeed, +you could have refused, at least, to be cast for an important part in +it. And now,” went on Mother Wit, firmly, “you are going to play that +part.” + +“Oh, Laura! you are so harsh,” sobbed Lily. + +“Much that will hurt you!” sniffed Laura. “We’ll drive around by the +hospital and leave this Plornish man. If he dares to open his mouth, +we’ll have him punished for trying to swindle you,” and Laura looked +sternly at the black-eyed, foreign-looking fellow. + +“You see, we know all about you, Mr. Plornish, and you will have to +abide by what is done for you. Some of us will help your family while +you are helpless. But you’ve got to be good, or even Mr. Vandergriff +will forget that you and he used to be boys together. Pah! with your +hair dye, and paint and powder, and all! Why, you are nearly fifty years +old, so Mr. Vandergriff says, and you act and dress like a silly boy.” + +Lily listened to all this, and stopped sobbing. She began to see that +there was a chance for her to escape being a butt for her +school-fellows’ jokes. + +“Can—can you keep Jess and the boys from talking?” she whispered to +Laura. + +“They’ll be like oysters if I tell them to,” declared Mother Wit. + +“Oh, then, I’ll do my best,” agreed the foolish girl. Possibly she was +deeply impressed by her escape. + +Mother Wit’s plans were carried out to the letter. Plornish was +deposited at the hospital, where he would remain for some weeks. The +performance of Jess’s play would have to get along without him on this +opening night. + +And when the hour for the performance arrived, Lily Pendleton was ready, +her tears wiped away, glorious in one of her costumes, and “preening +like a peacock”—to quote Bobby Hargrew—before one of the long mirrors +in the dressing room. + +“My, my!” laughed Bobby. “You look as grand as the Duchess of +Doosenberry, don’t you, Lil?” + +Lily looked at her rather sharply. “I’d really like to know how much +that child knows?” the older girl murmured. + +But it wasn’t what the shrewd Bobby _knew;_ it was what she _suspected!_ + + + + +CHAPTER XXV—GOOD NEWS FOR JESS + + +Behind the scenes just before the curtain rose upon the first act of +“The Spring Road” there was such a bustle, and running about, and +whispering, and excited signals and fragmentary talk, that it did look, +Jess said, as though matters never would be straightened out. + +Did this one know his or her part perfectly? Was this dress right? Oh, +dear! how can this one be made to look right “from the front?” And a +thousand other doubts and queries. + +No matter how many times a play is rehearsed, it does seem just before +the opening performance as though a dozen things would happen to spoil +the effect of the first appearance. And to the author of the play it +seems as though every person in that audience is a carping critic! + +Jess peered through the peephole in the curtain and saw that the hall +was crowded. + +“I just know it will be a failure!” she moaned to her chum, Laura +Belding. “It will be laughed at. I feel it!” + +“Strange how I should feel so differently!” spoke Laura, cheerfully. + +“Oh, dear! I’ll never be able to hold up my head again if it’s not +liked,” Jess pursued. “It will just _kill_ me.” + +“Don’t die so easy, Chum,” said Laura. “You know we’ll need you in the +big inter-school meet after Easter.” + +“Oh! I’ll never be fit to do anything in athletics again!” gasped Jess. + +Which was certainly not borne out by the facts, for Jess Morse took a +most important part in the spring meet of the Girls’ Branch Athletic +League, as a perusal of the next volume of this series: “The Girls of +Central High on Track and Field; Or, The Champions of the School +League,” will prove. + +At last Miss Gould said all was ready. Really, she did very well without +the assistance of the unpleasant, black-eyed, little Pizotti! The signal +was given and the curtain rose on the first tableau—and it _was_ a +pretty sight! In this allegorical introduction to Jess’s play there were +a score of the very prettiest girls of Central High, and they had been +dressed and were grouped so artistically that an “Ah!” of admiration +burst from the big audience. + +The little fantasy unwound the thread of plot which introduced the real +play; but when the curtain went down there was no enthusiastic applause. +The audience was expectant; but did not wholly understand it. And this +was as it should be; the intent of that little prologue was merely to +whet the appetite for the real play. + +“The Spring Road” ran its three acts through with unvarying success. The +applause grew more pronounced; the interest of the audience grew deeper. +The fact that a young girl had written the text of the play became +harder and harder to believe as the evening lengthened. + +At the end—when the general lights went out, one by one upon the stage +and left the two principal characters in the radiance of the spot light +alone—and when this dimmed slowly and finally went out, the silence of +the audience was momentous. + +Jess, in the wings, clinging to her chum, waited, scarcely breathing, +for the verdict. Had it failed? Had the little lesson she had tried to +teach, and the pretty story she had told, failed to “get over?” + +Suddenly there was a roar of delight from the back of the hall. Some of +the older boys of Central High had managed to get tickets to this first +performance, and, led by big Griff, they began to chant the well-known +yell of Central High. + +But _that_ was not what Jess waited for. That was school loyalty. She +had expected that. + +As the thunder of the boys’ applause began to wane there was another +sound which reached the ears of those listening behind the curtain. A +steady, sharp clapping of hands; then joined by a shuffling of feet. The +great mass of the audience was applauding. + +The curtain went up, and the whole company appeared. It rose and rose +again, at last to display only the principals, down to the final two who +had closed the play. But that was not enough. + +They could hear Dr. Agnew’s heavy voice growling somewhere out in the +darkness of the auditorium: + +“Author! Author! Bring her out!” + +The boys took up the demand. They even called on Jess Morse by name, and +hitched that name to the battle cry of their athletic field. + +“You’ve got to go!” cried Laura, giving her chum a push. “You’ve got to, +Jess!” + +And so Jess Morse stepped forward, modestly, bashfully, and faced the +great audience. Tears half blinded her, but she bowed as she had been +taught. And all the time she tasted the first intoxicating draught of +Fame! + +But that was not quite the end of it all. Mr. Monterey, of the +Centerport Opera House, was in a seat down in front that evening. He +never was seen to applaud once; but on Saturday evening, when the play +was repeated for the general public to attend, he came again and this +time brought a stranger who paid quite as close attention to Jess’s play +as did Mr. Monterey himself. + +After the performance and before Jess and Laura started for home with +their escorts, they heard that the stranger with the local manager was a +very famous New York producer. He had come especially to see “The Spring +Road.” + +And when Jess arrived home she found the gentleman, with Mr. Monterey, +conferring with her mother in their little sitting room. + +“I assure you,” said Mrs. Morse, proudly, “the play is practically +Josephine’s own work. It is her idea, clothed in her own language. I am +pleased that you find it so admirable for a child to have written——” + +“It is admirable—in spots—for anybody to have written,” said the New +York gentleman. “And this is the young lady?” + +Mrs. Morse introduced Jess. + +“You are the budding playwright?” suggested the stranger. + +“I am not so sure of that,” replied Jess, troubled a little. “I wanted +the prize Mrs. Kerrick offered, and I did my best.” + +“And your best is very good—remarkably good,” declared the producer. “I +have come to see you and your mother about it. I want you to let me have +the right to produce the play. Monday I will come with a contract; +meanwhile I want Mrs. Morse to accept this check—which Mr. Monterey +will endorse for me—to bind the agreement. I take a sort of option on +the play, as it were,” he said, and he handed the check to Jess. + +“You do not mean it?” gasped the girl. + +“I certainly do,” said the other, rising. “Your play is not like the +work of a professional playwright; but a professional writer of plays +can take your work and whip it into shape——And I am willing to show my +confidence in its final success by risking that sum upon it to start +with.” + +Jess looked then at the check. It was another two hundred dollars. Jess +shut her eyes tight for a moment; then she opened them again to be sure +she was not dreaming. + +When she opened them she really believed she saw Poverty fly out of the +window! + + THE END + + + + +THE JANICE DAY SERIES + +By HELEN BEECHER LONG + +_12 mo, cloth, illustrated, and colored jacket_ + +A series of books for girls which have been uniformly successful. Janice +Day is a character that will live long in juvenile fiction. Every volume +is full of inspiration. There is an abundance of humor, quaint +situations, and worth-while effort, and likewise plenty of plot and +mystery. + +An ideal series for girls from nine to sixteen. + + JANICE DAY, THE YOUNG HOMEMAKER + JANICE DAY AT POKETOWN + THE TESTING OF JANICE DAY + HOW JANICE DAY WON + THE MISSION OF JANICE DAY + + + + +THE NAN SHERWOOD SERIES + +By Annie Roe Carr + +_12 mo, cloth, illustrated, and colored jacket_ + +In Annie Roe Carr we have found a young woman of wide experience among +girls—in schoolroom, in camp and while traveling. She knows girls of +to-day thoroughly—their likes and dislikes—and knows that they demand +almost as much action as do the boys. And she knows humor—good, clean +fun and plenty of it. + + NAN SHERWOOD AT PINE CAMP + or The Old Lumberman’s Secret + + NAN SHERWOOD AT LAKEVIEW HALL + or The Mystery of the Haunted Boathouse + + NAN SHERWOOD’S WINTER HOLIDAYS + or Rescuing the Runaways + + NAN SHERWOOD AT ROSE RANCH + or The Old Mexican’s Treasure + + NAN SHERWOOD AT PALM BEACH + or Strange Adventures Among the Orange Groves + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Girls of Central High on the Stage, by +Gertrude W. Morrison + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GIRLS OF CENTRAL HIGH *** + +***** This file should be named 37303-0.txt or 37303-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/3/0/37303/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from images made available by the HathiTrust +Digital Library.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/37303-0.zip b/37303-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..224428a --- /dev/null +++ b/37303-0.zip diff --git a/37303-h.zip b/37303-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3ce0e55 --- /dev/null +++ b/37303-h.zip diff --git a/37303-h/37303-h.htm b/37303-h/37303-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ad0674d --- /dev/null +++ b/37303-h/37303-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8731 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" > +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> + <meta content="The Girls of Central High on the Stage" name="DC.Title"/> + <meta content="Gertrude W. Morrison" name="DC.Creator"/> + <meta content="en" name="DC.Language"/> + <meta content="1914" name="DC.Created"/> + <meta name="generator" content="ppgen (1.20) generated Sep 03, 2011 06:00 AM" /> + <title>The Girls of Central High on the Stage</title> + <style type="text/css"> + body {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%;} + p {margin-top:1ex; margin-bottom:0; text-align:justify;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size:x-small; text-align:right; text-indent:0; + position:absolute; right:2%; padding:1px 3px; font-style:normal; + font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration:none; + background-color:inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color:silver;} + h1 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; + font-size:1.4em; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:2em;} + h2 {text-align:left; font-weight:normal; + font-size:1.2em; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:2em;} + h3 {text-align:center; font-weight:bold; + font-size:0.9em; margin-top:1.5em; margin-bottom:1em;} + hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none; border-top:thin dashed silver; clear:both;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + .center {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; text-align:center;} + .larger {font-size:larger;} + .smaller {font-size:smaller;} + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + table.c {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + .caption {font-size: 80%;} + .sc {font-variant:small-caps} + div.center>:first-child {margin: .5em auto 0 auto;text-align:center;} + div.center p {margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;} + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Girls of Central High on the Stage, by +Gertrude W. Morrison + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Girls of Central High on the Stage + The Play That Took The Prize + +Author: Gertrude W. Morrison + +Release Date: September 3, 2011 [EBook #37303] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GIRLS OF CENTRAL HIGH *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from images made available by the HathiTrust +Digital Library.) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i001' id='i001'></a> +<img src="images/illus-fpc.jpg" alt="AND SO JESS MORSE STEPPED FORWARD, BASHFULLY, AND FACED THE AUDIENCE—Page 205" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>AND SO JESS MORSE STEPPED FORWARD, BASHFULLY,<br/>AND FACED THE AUDIENCE—<em>Page</em> 205</span> +</div> +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:1.6em;font-weight:bold;'>The Girls</span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:1.6em;font-weight:bold;'>of Central High</span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:1.6em;font-weight:bold;'>on the Stage</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p>OR</p> +<p> </p> +<p>The Play That Took The Prize</p> +<p> </p> +<p>BY</p> +<p> </p> +<p><span style='font-size:1.2em;'>GERTRUDE W. MORRISON</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>Author of The Girls of Central High,</span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>The Girls of Central High on Lake Luna,</span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>Etc.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p><em>ILLUSTRATED</em></p> +<p> </p> +<p>THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO.</p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>CLEVELAND—NEW YORK</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>Made in U. S. A.</span></p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p><span class='sc'>Copyright, 1914, by</span></p> +<p>GROSSET & DUNLAP</p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class='sc'>Press of</span></p> +<p>THE COMMERCIAL BOOKBINDING CO.</p> +<p><span class='sc'>Cleveland</span></p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:larger;'>CONTENTS</span></p> +</div> +<table class='c' summary='table of contents'> +<tr><td style='font-size:smaller'>CHAPTER</td><td></td><td style='font-size:smaller'>PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>I</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>What the M. O. R.’s Needed</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chI'>1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>II</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>What Josephine Morse Needed</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chII'>9</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>III</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>What Mr. Chumley Needed</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chIII'>18</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>IV</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>What Mrs. Prentice Needed</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chIV'>28</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>V</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>There is a General Need</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chV'>34</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VI</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>It All Comes Out</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chVI'>40</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Hand Held Out</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chVII'>50</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VIII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Race Is On</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chVIII'>60</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>IX</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Skating Party</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chIX'>70</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>X</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Mid-Term Examination</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chX'>80</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XI</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Missing</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXI'>87</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Counsel for the Defense</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXII'>95</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Way is Opened</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXIII'>104</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIV</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>In Suspense</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXIV'>113</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XV</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Mile a Minute</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXV'>121</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVI</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>“Just Like a Story Book”</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXVI'>128</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Lily Pendleton Is Dissatisfied</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXVII'>139</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVIII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Ski Runners</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXVIII'>146</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIX</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The First Dress Rehearsal</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXIX'>153</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XX</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>“Mr. Pizotti”</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXX'>160</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXI</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Mother Wit Puts Two and Two Together</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXI'>170</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Mrs. Plornish</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXII'>178</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXIII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>“Caught on the Fly”</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXIII'>187</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXIV</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Great Night</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXIV'>197</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXV</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Good News for Jess</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXV'>202</a></td></tr> +</table> +<h1>THE GIRLS OF CENTRAL HIGH ON THE STAGE</h1> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1'></a>1</span><a name='chI' id='chI'></a>CHAPTER I—WHAT THE M. O. R.’S NEEDED</h2> +<p> +The M. O. R. house was alight from cellar +to garret. It was the first big reception of the +winter and followed closely the end of the first +basketball trophy series and the football game +between the Central High team and that of +West High. +</p> +<p> +The M. O. R. was the only girls’ secret society +countenanced by Franklin Sharp, the principal +of Central High. Until you belonged to +it you never knew what the three initials stood +for; after you were lucky enough to belong, the +name of the society became such a deep and dark +mystery that you never dared whisper it, even to +your very closest “spoon.” +</p> +<p> +Therefore, in all probability, we shall never +learn just what “M. O. R.” stands for. +</p> +<p> +Among the boys of Central High, their sisters +and the other girls belonging to the secret +society were spoken of as “Mothers of the Republic.” +But the boys were only jealous. They +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2'></a>2</span> +were entirely shut out of the doings of the M. O. R.’s, +which long antedated the Girls’ Branch +Athletic League; the boys never were allowed +within the sacred precincts of the “House” save +on the occasion of the special reception at +Easter. +</p> +<p> +The house was a narrow slice of brownstone +front in the middle of a block of similar dwellings, +within sight of the schoolhouse, and in the +Hill section of Centerport. The Hill was supposed +to be very exclusive, and rents were high. +And the rental of the thirteen-foot slice of +brownstone had become a serious problem to the +Board of Governors of the M. O. R. +</p> +<p> +Some M. O. R.’s had gone to college, many +of them had married, some had moved many, +many miles away from Centerport. But most of +them remembered tenderly the first school society +of which they had been members. The +alumnae were loyal to M. O. R. +</p> +<p> +And some of the alumnae were on the present +Board of Governors, and were—on this reception +night—discussing seriously with the more +active members of the board the financial state +of the society. The owner of the house had +notified them of a raise in rent for the coming +year to an absolutely impossible figure. The +M. O. R.’s must look for new quarters. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3'></a>3</span> +</p> +<p> +“If we could only interest the pupils of Central +High, as a whole, members and those who +are not in the M. O. R.,” sighed Mrs. Mabel +Kerrick. +</p> +<p> +The presence of this widowed lady, daughter +of one of the wealthiest men in Centerport, and +an alumna of the school, upon the Board of +Governors of the M. O. R. needs an explanation +that must be deferred. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t see how we can interest the boys—they +only make fun,” said a very bright looking +girl sitting upon the other side of the room, and +beside another very bright looking girl who +looked so much like her (they were dressed just +alike) that unless one had seen her lips move one +could never have told whether Dora Lockwood, +or Dorothy Lockwood, had spoken. +</p> +<p> +“And how are you going to interest the girls +who haven’t been asked to join the M. O. R.—and +are not likely to be asked?” demanded the +other twin. “The very exclusiveness of the society +makes it impossible for us to call upon the +school in general for help.” +</p> +<p> +“Just raise the fees and we can pay the higher +rent,” remarked another girl, briskly. +</p> +<p> +“And then, at the end of next year, Mr. +Chumley will raise it again. He owns more +rentable property than any other man on the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4'></a>4</span> +Hill, and just as soon as he is sure his tenant is +settled he begins to put up the rent on him,” observed +a fourth girl. +</p> +<p> +“That is just it,” Mrs. Kerrick responded, +slowly. “The society should not pay rent. We +should own our own house. We should build. +We should raise a goodly sum of money this +winter toward the building fund. But we must +find some method of interesting everybody in +our need. +</p> +<p> +“A membership in the M. O. R. has always +been a reward of merit. Freshmen cannot, of +course, be ‘touched’ for the M. O. R., and few +sophomores attain that enviable eminence. But +by the time a girl has reached her senior year +at Central High it is her own fault if she is not +a member. +</p> +<p> +“Therefore, the girls of the younger classes +should be interested in the stability of the society, +irrespective of whether they are members +yet, or not. And naturally, if the girls are interested, +they can interest their brothers and their +parents.” +</p> +<p> +“Suppose, Mrs. Kerrick, a girl hasn’t any +brothers?” demurely asked a quiet girl in the +corner. +</p> +<p> +“Very well, then, Nellie Agnew!” said the +lady, laughing. “You go and interest some +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5'></a>5</span> +other girl’s brother. But we haven’t heard from +little Mother Wit,” added Mrs. Kerrick, turning +suddenly to a pretty, plump girl, all in brown +and with shining hair and eyes, who sat by herself +at the far end of the room. “Haven’t you +a thing to say, Laura Belding?” +</p> +<p> +“Won’t it be a little difficult,” asked the girl +addressed, diffidently, “to invent anything that +will interest everybody in the building fund of +the M. O. R.?” +</p> +<p> +“That’s what we’re all saying, Laura,” said +one of the other members of the Board. “Now +you invent something!” +</p> +<p> +“You give me a hard task,” laughed the +brown girl. “Of course, all members—both +active and graduate—will be interested for their +membership’s sake. The problem is, then, in +addition, to interest, first, the girls who <em>may</em> be +members, and, second, the boys and general public +who can never be members of the M. O. R.” +</p> +<p> +“Logically put, Laura,” urged Mrs. Kerrick. +“Then what?” +</p> +<p> +“Why wouldn’t a play fill the bill?” asked +Laura. “Offer a prize for an original play +written by a girl of Central High, irrespective +of class or whether she is an M. O. R. or not—that +will interest the girls in general. Have the +play presented by boys and girls of the school—that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6'></a>6</span> +will hold the boys. And the parents and +general public can help by paying to see the performance.” +</p> +<p> +The younger members of the committee looked +at one another doubtfully; but Mrs. Kerrick +clapped her hands enthusiastically. +</p> +<p> +“A play! The very thing! And Mr. Sharp +will approve that, no doubt. We will appoint +him chief of the committee to decide upon the +play. And we will offer a prize big enough to +make it worth while for every girl to try her +best to produce a good one.” +</p> +<p> +“But that prize must be deducted from the +profits of the performance,” objected the practical +Nellie Agnew. +</p> +<p> +“No,” replied Mrs. Kerrick, promptly. “That +will be my gift. <em>I</em> will offer the prize—two hundred +dollars—for the best play submitted before +New Year’s. How is that? Do you think it +will ‘take’? Come, Laura, does your inventive +genius approve of that suggestion?” +</p> +<p> +“I think it is very lovely of you, Mrs. Kerrick,” +cried Mother Wit. “Oh, my! Two hundred +dollars! It is magnificent. Let us find Mr. +Sharp at once and see if he approves. He is +still in the house, I know,” and at her suggestion +somebody was sent to hunt for the principal of +Central High, who was one of the guests of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7'></a>7</span> +honor of the M. O. R. on this particular evening. +</p> +<p> +Centerport was a lively, wealthy inland city +situated on the shore of Lake Luna, and boasting +three high schools within its precincts. The +new building of Central High was much finer +and larger than the East and West Highs, and +there was considerable rivalry between the girls +of the three schools, not only in athletic matters, +but in all other affairs. Out of school hours, +basketball and other athletics had pretty well +filled the minds of the girls of Central High; +and Laura Belding and her particular chums had +been as active in these inter-school athletics as +any. +</p> +<p> +In fact, it was Mother Wit, as her friends and +schoolmates called Laura, who interested Colonel +Richard Swayne, Mrs. Kerrick’s father, in +the matter of girls’ athletics and so made possible +for the girls of Central High the finest athletic +field and gymnasium in the State. +</p> +<p> +Incidentally she had interested Mrs. Kerrick +in the girls of Central High, too, and reminded +the widowed lady that she was an alumna and +a member of the M. O. R. In her renewed interest +in the affairs of the secret society and in +the Girls’ Branch Athletic League, Mrs. Kerrick +had become very different from the almost helpless +invalid first introduced to the reader in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8'></a>8</span> +first volume of this series, entitled “The Girls of +Central High; Or, Rivals for All Honors.” +</p> +<p> +In that first volume was related the establishment +of athletics for girls at Central High, and +introduced Laura Belding and her especial chums +in their school trials and triumphs. In the second +volume, “The Girls of Central High on +Lake Luna; Or, The Crew That Won,” were +narrated the summer aquatic sports of the same +group of girls and their boy friends. +</p> +<p> +“The Girls of Central High at Basketball; Or, +The Great Gymnasium Mystery,” the third volume +of the series, told of the girls when they had +become juniors and related the struggle of the +rival basketball teams of the three Centerport +highs, and the high schools of Keyport and +Lumberport, at either end of Lake Luna, for +the trophy cup. That series of games had just +been finished and Central High had won the +trophy, when Laura and her friends, as members +of the M. O. R., are again introduced to the +reader’s notice at the opening of this chapter. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9'></a>9</span><a name='chII' id='chII'></a>CHAPTER II—WHAT JOSEPHINE MORSE NEEDED</h2> +<p> +In spite of the bright lights illuminating the +windows of the M. O. R. house—and many +other larger and finer houses at that end of +Whiffle Street—outside it was dark and dreary +enough. Especially was this so at the “poverty-stricken +end,” as Josephine Morse called her section +of the street. Jess and her widowed mother +lived on the fringe of the wealthy Hill district, +where Whiffle Street develops an elbow, suddenly +becomes narrow, and debouches upon Market +Street. +</p> +<p> +It was raining, too. Not an honest, splashing +downpour, but a drizzling, half-hearted rain +that drifted about the streets as though ashamed +of itself, leaving a deposit of slime on all the +crosswalks, and making the corner street-lamps +weep great tears. The gas-lamps, too, seemed +in a fog and struggled feebly against the blackness +of the evening. +</p> +<p> +Under a huge umbrella which snuffed her almost like +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10'></a>10</span> +a candle, Jess had made her way into +Market Street and to Mr. Closewick’s grocery +store near the corner. She carried a basket on +her arm and she had given the clerk rather a long +list of necessary things, although she had studied +to make the quantities as modest as possible. +The clerk had put them all up now and packed +them into the basket and stood expectantly with +the list checked off in his hand. +</p> +<p> +“Two dollars and seven cents, Miss Jess,” he +said. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll have to ask you to add that to our bill,” +said the girl, flushing. “Mother is short of +money just now.” +</p> +<p> +“Wait a moment, Miss Jess; I’ll speak to Mr. +Closewick,” said the clerk, seemingly as much +embarrassed as the girl herself, and he stepped +hastily toward the glass-enclosed office at the +rear of the store. +</p> +<p> +But the pursy old man with the double chin +and spectacles on his forehead, the height of +which the wisp of reddish-gray hair could not +hide, had observed it all. He got down ponderously +from his stool and squeaked out behind the +long counter in his shiny boots. +</p> +<p> +“I sent my bill over to your mother this morning, +Miss Jess,” he said. “It is more than +twenty dollars without this list of goods to-night,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11'></a>11</span> +and he shook the modest little paper in +his hand, having taken it from the clerk. +</p> +<p> +“Mother is short of money just now,” repeated +Jess. +</p> +<p> +“So’m I. You tell her so. I can’t let you +increase your indebtedness,” and his pudgy hand +lifted the basket and put it on the shelf behind +him. +</p> +<p> +“You pay me something on account, or pay +for these goods you’ve ordered this evening. +I’m needing money, too.” +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Closewick! I hope you won’t do that,” +gasped Jess, paling under his stern glance. “We +will pay you—we always have. Mother sometimes +has to wait for her money—a long time. +We spend many a twenty-dollar bill in your +store during the year——” +</p> +<p> +“That ain’t neither here nor there,” said the +grocer, ponderously. “It’s a rule I have. Never +let a bill run more than twenty dollars. ’Specially +where there’s no man in the family. Hard to +collect from a woman. Makes me bad friends +if I press ’em. I can afford to risk losing twenty +dollars; but no more!” +</p> +<p> +“How can you!” cried Jess, under her breath, +for there was somebody else entering the store. +“We have bought of you for years——” +</p> +<p> +“And if I hadn’t stuck to the few business +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12'></a>12</span> +rules I have, I wouldn’t have been here selling +you goods for years,” returned Mr. Closewick, +grimly. “The sheriff would have sold me out. +I’m sorry for your mother, and I don’t want to +lose her trade. But business is business.” +</p> +<p> +“And you cannot favor us for this single occasion?” +choked Jess. +</p> +<p> +“It would lead to others; I can’t break a rule,” +said the grocer, stubbornly. “Come now, Miss +Jess! You go home and tell your mother how it +is. I’ll keep this basket right here for you, and +you come back with the two-seven, and it will be +all right.” +</p> +<p> +“That would be useless,” said Jess, clinging +to the counter for support, and feeling for the +moment as though she should sink, “We +haven’t any money—at present. If we had I +should not have asked you for any extension of +credit. Please give me back my basket.” +</p> +<p> +“So?” returned the grocer, frowning. “Very +well,” and he deliberately unpacked the parcels +and handed her the basket—making a show of so +doing in the presence of the newly arrived customer. +“And what can I do for <em>you</em>, this evening, +Mrs. Brown?” he asked, blandly, speaking +to the new arrival while he handed Jess her +basket without a word. +</p> +<p> +“And that woman will tell about it all over +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13'></a>13</span> +town!” thought the girl, as she hurried into the +street. “Oh, dear, dear! whatever shall I do?” +</p> +<p> +For the cupboard at the Morse cottage was +very bare indeed. Mrs. Mary Morse had some +little standing as a contributor to the more popular +magazines; but the returns from her pen-work +being her entire means of income, there +were sometimes weary waitings for checks. Jess +had been used to these unpleasant occasions ever +since she was a very little girl. Her mother was +of a nervous temperament and easily disturbed; +and as Jess had grown she had tried to shield her +mother, at these times of famine, from its most +unpleasant features. +</p> +<p> +As witness her passage-at-arms with the +grocer, Mr. Closewick. No money in the house, +an empty pantry, their credit cut off at the store +where they had always traded, and no credit established +at any other grocer’s shop! The situation +looked desperate, indeed, to Jess Morse. +</p> +<p> +Jess shrank from trying the butcher’s and the +dairy store, too. At each shop an unpaid bill +would stare her in the face and to-night she felt +as though each proprietor would demand a “payment +on account.” It was a black night indeed. +November was going out in its very mournfullest +and dismallest manner. +</p> +<p> +And for Jess Morse there was an added burden of disappointment +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14'></a>14</span> +and trouble. She was +not able to attend the M. O. R. reception, although +she was a member. Laura Belding, her +very dearest friend, would be there and would +wonder why she, Jess, did not appear. And +after the reception Chet Belding, Laura’s brother, +would be waiting to take Jess home—she hadn’t +had the heart to tell Chet that she would not +need his escort from the reception. +</p> +<p> +But, as Jess had told her mother, that blue +party dress had become impossible. Let alone +its being months behind the fashion, it was +frayed around the bottom and the front breadth +was sorely stained. And she hadn’t another +gown fit to put on in the evening. She did so +long for something to wear at a party in which +her friends would not know her two blocks away. +So she had “cut” the reception at the M. O. R. +house. +</p> +<p> +All this was a heavy load on Jess Morse’s +mind as she approached, with hesitating steps, +the butter and egg shop kept by Mr. Vandergriff. +</p> +<p> +“Certainly,” thought the troubled girl, “I +either need a whole lot of courage, or a lot of +money—either would come in very handy to-night.” +</p> +<p> +Just then Jess was aroused from her brown +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15'></a>15</span> +study by hearing somebody calling breathlessly +after her. +</p> +<p> +“Hi! Hi! Aren’t you going to look +around? Jess Morse!” +</p> +<p> +A girl smaller than herself, and dressed from +neck to heels in a glistening raincoat, ran under +Jess’s umbrella and seized her arm. She was a +laughing, curly-haired girl with dancing black +eyes and an altogether roguish look. +</p> +<p> +“Jess Morse! don’t you ever look back on the +street—no matter what happens?” she demanded. +</p> +<p> +“For what was Lot’s wife turned to salt, +Bobby?” returned Jess, solemnly. +</p> +<p> +“For good! Now you know, don’t you?” +laughed Clara Hargrew, whose youthful friends +knew her as “Bobby.” +</p> +<p> +“Why aren’t you at the ‘big doin’s’ to-night,” +demanded the harum-scarum Bobby. “You’re a +Mother of the Republic; what means this delinquency?” +</p> +<p> +“Just supposing I had something else to do?” +returned Jess, trying to speak lightly. “I’m on +an errand now.” +</p> +<p> +She wished to shake Bobby off. She dared +not take her into Mr. Vandergriff’s store. Suppose +the butter and egg man should treat her as +the grocer had? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16'></a>16</span> +</p> +<p> +“Say! you ought to be up there,” cried the +unconscious Bobby. “I just came past the +house and it was all lit up like—like a hotel. +And Mr. Sharp was just coming out with Mrs. +Kerrick. Mrs. Kerrick is going to do something +big for us girls of Central High.” +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean?” asked Jess, only half +interested in Bobby’s gossip. +</p> +<p> +“Going to give us a chance to win a prize, or +something,” pursued Bobby. +</p> +<p> +“Oh! how do you know?” Jess showed more +interest now. +</p> +<p> +“Why, I heard Mr. Sharp say, as he was helping +Mrs. Kerrick into Colonel Swayne’s auto: +</p> +<p> +“‘The girls of Central High should be delighted, +Mrs. Kerrick—and very grateful to you, +indeed. Two hundred dollars! And a chance +for any smart girl to win it!’—just like that. +Now, Jess, you and I are both smart girls, aren’t +we?” demanded Bobby, roguishly. +</p> +<p> +“We think we are, at any rate,” returned Jess, +more eagerly. “Two hundred dollars! Oh! +wouldn’t that be fine!” +</p> +<p> +“It would buy a lot of candy and ice-cream +sodas,” chuckled Bobby. +</p> +<p> +But to herself Jess Morse thought: “And it +would mean the difference, for mother and me, +between penury and independence! Oh, dear +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17'></a>17</span> +me! is it something that I can do to earn two +hundred dollars?” +</p> +<p> +And she listened to Bobby’s surmises about +the mysterious prize without taking in half what +the younger girl was saying. Two hundred dollars! +And she and her mother did not have a +cent. She looked up and saw the lights of the +butter and egg store just ahead, and sighed. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18'></a>18</span><a name='chIII' id='chIII'></a>CHAPTER III—WHAT MR. CHUMLEY NEEDED</h2> +<p> +“Well, old Molly-grubs, I’ve got to leave +you here,” said Bobby Hargrew, pinching the +arm of Jess. “You’re certainly down in the +mouth to-night. I never saw you so before. I’d +like to know what the matter is with you,” complained +Bobby, and ran off in the rain. +</p> +<p> +Jess was heartily glad to get rid of her; and it +was seldom that she ever felt that way about +Bobby. Bobby was the double distilled essence +of cheerfulness. +</p> +<p> +But Jess felt as though nothing could cheer +her to-night but the finding of a big, fat pocket-book +on the street—one that “didn’t belong to +nobody!” There wasn’t such an object in sight, +however, along the glistening walk—the walk +that glistened in the lamplight from Mr. Vandergriff’s +store. +</p> +<p> +She positively <em>had</em> to try her luck at the butter +and egg shop. The man could do no more than +refuse her, that was sure. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19'></a>19</span> +</p> +<p> +But when Jess had lowered her umbrella and +backed into the shop, she found several customers +waiting at the counter. Mr. Vandergriff +and his son, whom the boys called “Griff” +and who played fullback on the Central High +football team, were waiting upon these customers. +Soon Griff was through with the man he +was waiting on and came to Jess. +</p> +<p> +“What’s yours to-night, Miss Morse?” he +asked, and was so cheerful about it that the girl’s +heart rose. They didn’t owe Mr. Vandergriff +such a large bill, anyway. The proprietor was +waiting upon the lady who stood beside Jess as +she gave her order to Griff. The lady was a +very dressy person and she laid her silver-mesh +purse on the counter between herself and Jess. +The latter saw the glint of gold coins between +the meshes of the purse and her heart throbbed. +She moved quietly away from the lady. Wasn’t +it wicked—seemingly—that one should have so +much money, while another needed the very necessities +of life? +</p> +<p> +“Thank you, Griff,” Jess heard herself saying +to the younger Vandergriff, as he packed her +modest order in the basket. “I shall have to +ask you to charge that.” +</p> +<p> +“All right, Miss Morse. Nothing more to-night?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20'></a>20</span> +</p> +<p> +“No,” said Jess, and went back and unhooked +her umbrella from the edge of the counter where +she had hung it, and started for the door. A +bright-eyed man in a long blue raincoat who had +been waited upon by Griff already was just then +going out, and he held open the door for her. +As she stepped out the girl saw that the rain was +no longer falling—merely a mist clung about the +street lamps. She did not raise her umbrella, +but hurried toward home. +</p> +<p> +There was enough in her basket for breakfast, +at least. She would wait until to-morrow—which +was Saturday—before she went to the +butcher’s. Perhaps something would happen. +Perhaps in the morning mail there would be a +check for her mother instead of a returned manuscript. +</p> +<p> +And all the time, while her feet flew homeward, +she thought of the prize of two hundred +dollars that Mrs. Mabel Kerrick was to offer for +the girls of Central High to work for. What +was the task? Could it be something that <em>she</em> +excelled in? +</p> +<p> +Jess was almost tempted to wait up until the +reception was over and then run to the Belding +house and see her chum before Laura went to +bed. Laura might know all about it. +</p> +<p> +<em>Two hundred dollars!</em> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21'></a>21</span> +</p> +<p> +Jess saw the words before her in dancing, +rain-drop letters. They seemed to beckon her +on, and in a few minutes she was at the cottage, +just at the “elbow” of Whiffle Street, and came +breathlessly into the kitchen. +</p> +<p> +The room was empty, and the fire in the stove +was but a spark. Jess tiptoed to the sitting-room +door and peered in. Her mother, wearing an +ink-stained jacket, was busy at her desk, the pen +scratching on the big sheets of pad paper. The +typewriter was open, too, and the girl could see +that the title and opening paragraphs of a new +story had already been written on the machine. +</p> +<p> +“Genius burns again!” sighed Jess, and went +back to remove her damp hat and jacket, and replenish +the fire. Mother would want some tea +by and by, if she worked late into the evening, +and Jess drew the kettle forward. +</p> +<p> +She stood her umbrella behind the entry door, +and removed her overshoes and put them under +the range to dry. She had scarcely done so +when a stumbling foot sounded on the porch. +She opened the door before the visitor could +knock, so that Mrs. Morse would not be disturbed. +</p> +<p> +“Why, Mr. Chumley!” she exclaimed, recognizing +the withered little man who stood there. +</p> +<p> +“Oh! you’re home, are ye?” squeaked the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22'></a>22</span> +landlord. “I was here a little while ago and +nobody answered my knock, though I could hear +that typewriter going <em>rat, tat, tat</em> all the time.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m sorry, Mr. Chumley,” said Jess, hastily. +“But you know how mother is when she’s busy. +She hears nothing.” +</p> +<p> +“Humph!” +</p> +<p> +“Won’t you come in?” hesitated Jess, still +holding the door. The rent was not due for a +day or two, and he usually gave them a few days’ +grace if they did not happen to have it right in +the nick of time. +</p> +<p> +“I guess I will,” squeaked the landlord. +</p> +<p> +He was a little whiffet of a man—“looked like +a figure on a New Year’s cake,” Bobby Hargrew +said. His mouth was a mere slit in his gray, +wrinkled face, and his eyes were so close together +that the sharp bridge of his nose scarcely parted +them. +</p> +<p> +Some landlords hire agents to attend to their +property and to the collection of rents. Not so +Mr. Chumley. He did not mind the trouble of +collecting, and he could fight off repairs longer +than any landlord in town. And the one-half of +one per cent. collection fee was an item. +</p> +<p> +“Think I’ve come ahead of time, eh?” he +cackled, rubbing his blue hands—as blue as a +turkey’s foot, Jess thought—over the renewed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23'></a>23</span> +fire. “It ain’t many days before rent’s due +again. If ye have it handy ye can pay me now, +Miss Josephine.” +</p> +<p> +“It isn’t handy, Mr. Chumley. We are +shorter than usual just now,” said Jess, hating +the phrase that comes so often to the lips of poverty. +</p> +<p> +“Well! well! Can’t expect money before it’s +due, I s’pose,” said the old man, licking his thin +lips. “And I’m afraid ye find it pretty hard to +meet your bills at ’tis?” he added, his head on +one side like a gray old stork. +</p> +<p> +Jess flushed and then paled. What had <em>he</em> +heard? Had that Mrs. Brown, in the grocer’s +shop, told him already that Mr. Closewick had +refused to let her increase the bill? The girl +looked at him without speaking, schooling her +features to betray nothing of the fear that +gripped her heart. +</p> +<p> +“Hey?” squeaked Mr. Chumley. “Don’t ye +hear well?” +</p> +<p> +“I hear you, sir,” said Jess, glancing quickly +to make sure that she had closed the door tightly +between the kitchen and the room in which her +mother was at work. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’m willin’ to help folks out—always,” +said Mr. Chumley, his withered cheek +flushing. “If you’re finding the rent of this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24'></a>24</span> +house too much fer ye, why, there’s cheaper tenements +in town. I own some of ’em myself. +Taxes is increased this year and I gotter go up +on all rentals——” +</p> +<p> +“But, Mr. Chumley! we’ve lived in this cottage +of yours ever since I can remember. We’ve +paid you a lot of rent. You surely are not going +to increase it now?” +</p> +<p> +“I am, after December, Miss Josephine,” declared +Mr. Chumley. “I gotter do it. Beginnin’ +with January first your mother will have to +pay three dollars more each month. You kin tell +her that. I’m giving you a month’s warning.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Chumley! Surely you won’t put us +out——” +</p> +<p> +“I ain’t sayin’ nothing about putting you out, +though your mother ain’t as sure pay as some +others. She’s slow. And she’s a woman alone. +Hard to git your money out of a widder woman. +No. She can stay if she pays the three dollars +increase. Otherwise, I got the cottage as good +as rented right now to another party.” +</p> +<p> +He moved toward the door, without lifting his +eyes again to Jess’s face. +</p> +<p> +“You’ll tell her that,” he said. “I’d like to +do business with her instead of with a half-grown +gal. Don’t suppose you <em>could</em> let me have the +next month’s rent to-night, eh?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25'></a>25</span> +</p> +<p> +“It isn’t due yet, Mr. Chumley,” Jess said, +undecided whether to “get mad” or to cry! +</p> +<p> +“Well——Hello! who’s these?” +</p> +<p> +There was another clatter of footsteps upon +the porch as old Mr. Chumley opened the outer +door. Jess looked past him and saw a female +and a male figure crowding into the entry. For +a moment she recognized neither. +</p> +<p> +“That’s the girl!” exclaimed the woman, and +her voice was sharp and excited. +</p> +<p> +“Hello!” muttered Mr. Chumley, and stood +aside. “Here’s young Vandergriff.” +</p> +<p> +Jess looked on, speechless with amazement. +She now recognized Griff, and the woman with +him was the fashionably attired lady who had +stood beside Jess at the counter in the butter +and egg store. +</p> +<p> +“Miss Jess! Miss Jess!” exclaimed Griff, +quickly. “Did you open your umbrella on the +way home?” +</p> +<p> +“I—I——” +</p> +<p> +“Stupid!” exclaimed the woman. +</p> +<p> +“Why, Griff, I didn’t open it.” +</p> +<p> +“And you haven’t opened it yet?” +</p> +<p> +“Why—no,” admitted the puzzled Jess. +</p> +<p> +“Where is it?” cried the young man. “Now, +you wait, Mrs. Prentice. I know it will be all +right.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26'></a>26</span> +</p> +<p> +“That’s all very fine, young man. But it isn’t +your purse that is lost,” exclaimed the woman, +tartly. +</p> +<p> +At last Jess understood. She started forward +and her face flamed. +</p> +<p> +“Oh!” she cried. “Did you lose that silver +mesh purse?” +</p> +<p> +“You see! She remembers it well enough,” +said the woman. +</p> +<p> +“I could scarcely forget it. You laid it on the +counter between us. And it was heavy with +money,” said Jess. +</p> +<p> +“Now, wait!” cried Griff, interposing, while +old Chumley listened eagerly, his little eyes snapping. +“Did you set your umbrella aside without +opening it, Miss Morse?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I did,” repeated Jess. +</p> +<p> +“And you had it hanging by the hooked handle +on the edge of the counter right beside this lady, +didn’t you?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I did.” +</p> +<p> +“I saw it. It’s just like a story book!” +laughed Griff. “Get the umbrella, Miss Morse. +I knew it would be all right——” +</p> +<p> +“I am not convinced that it is ‘all right,’ as +you say, young man,” spoke Mrs. Prentice, eyeing +Jess’s flushed face, suspiciously. +</p> +<p> +“Get it from behind the door there, Griff,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27'></a>27</span> +said the girl, hurriedly. She, too, had heard of +such an incident as this. Perhaps the purse had +been knocked from the counter into her open +umbrella. But suppose it was <em>not</em> there? +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28'></a>28</span><a name='chIV' id='chIV'></a>CHAPTER IV—WHAT MRS. PRENTICE NEEDED</h2> +<p> +“Here it is! here’s the umbrella!” squeaked +the officious Mr. Chumley, coming out from behind +the entry door, where he had been listening. +</p> +<p> +All three of them—Jess, Griff, and the excited +loser of the purse—reached for the umbrella; but +Griff was the first. +</p> +<p> +“Hold on!” said he to the landlord. “Let +me have that, sir. The purse was lost in our +store. We’re just as much interested in the matter +as anybody.” +</p> +<p> +“I fail to see that, young man,” said Mrs. +Prentice, tartly. +</p> +<p> +She was not naturally of a mean disposition; +but she was excited, and the explanation Griff +had given her of the loss of the purse had seemed +to her unimaginative mind “far-fetched,” to say +the least. +</p> +<p> +The boy half opened the umbrella and turned +it over. Crash to the floor fell the purse, and +it snapped open as it landed. Out upon the linoleum +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29'></a>29</span> +rolled the glistening coins—several of them +gold pieces—that Jess had noted so greedily in +the egg store. +</p> +<p> +“What did I tell you?” cried Griff, looking +at Mrs. Prentice. +</p> +<p> +That lady only exclaimed “Oh!” very loudly +and looked aghast at the rolling coins. Jess half +stooped to gather up the scattered money. Then +she thought better of it and straightened up, +looking straight into the face of the owner of +the purse. +</p> +<p> +But old Mr. Chumley could not stand the lack +of interest the others seemed to show in what—to +him—was the phase of particular importance +in the whole affair. There was real money rolling +all over the Widow Morse’s kitchen. He +went down on his rheumatic old knees and +scrambled for it. Mr. Chumley worshipped +money, anyway, and this was a worshipper’s +rightful attitude. +</p> +<p> +“My, my, my!” he kept repeating. “How +careless!” +</p> +<p> +But Mrs. Prentice’s expression of countenance +was swiftly changing. She flushed deeply—much +more deeply than had Jess; then she paled. +She picked up Mr. Chumley’s phrase, although +she allowed the old man to pick up the money. +</p> +<p> +“I certainly <em>have</em> been careless,” she said. “I—I must +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30'></a>30</span> +have nudged that purse off the counter +with my elbow. I—I——My dear girl! will you +forgive me?” +</p> +<p> +She stepped forward and opened her arms to +Jess. She was not only a well dressed lady, but +she was a handsome one, and her smile, when she +chose to allow it to appear, was winning. The +anger and indignation Jess had felt began to melt +before this apology and the lady’s frank manner. +</p> +<p> +“I—I suppose it was a natural mistake,” +stammered Jess. +</p> +<p> +“Not if she’d known you, Miss Jess,” Griff +said, quite sharply for him. “Nobody who knew +you or your mother would have accused you of +taking a penny’s worth that didn’t rightfully belong +to you.” +</p> +<p> +Jess, whose heart was still sore from the blow +she had received at Mr. Closewick’s grocery, +thought this was very kind of Griff. And they +owed his father, too! If there were tears standing +in her eyes they were tears of gratitude. +</p> +<p> +“You see, my dear,” said the lady, her voice +very pleasant indeed now, “I did not know you +as well as young Mr. Vandergriff seems to.” +</p> +<p> +“We—we go to school together,” explained +Jess, weakly, and found herself drawn into the +arms of the lady. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31'></a>31</span> +</p> +<p> +Mr. Chumley rose up with a grunt and a +groan; he had the purse and all the coins. +</p> +<p> +“Very careless! very careless!” he repeated. +“And here is nearly a hundred dollars, madam. +Think of carelessly carrying a hundred dollars in +a silly purse like that! It is astonishing——” +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Prentice had implanted a soft little kiss +on Jess’s forehead and shaken her a little playfully +by both shoulders. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you bear malice, my dear,” she whispered. +Then she turned briefly to the old man. +</p> +<p> +“You’re very kind, I’m sure,” she said, taking +the purse into which Mr. Chumley had crammed +the money. “Thank you.” +</p> +<p> +“Money comes too hard for folks to scatter +it around,” complained the landlord. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Prentice seemed to be much amused. “I +should be more careful, I suppose. I presume, +now, I ought to count it to see if—if you gathered +it all up, sir?” she added, her eyes dancing. +</p> +<p> +A little breath of red crept into the withered +cheeks of the miserly old man. “Well, well!” +he ejaculated. “One can’t be too careful.” +</p> +<p> +“I presume not,” said the lady. +</p> +<p> +“And if the gal had known the money was +there she might have been tempted, ye see.” +</p> +<p> +Jess flushed again and Griff looked angry; but +Mrs. Prentice said, coolly: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32'></a>32</span> +</p> +<p> +“Were <em>you</em> tempted, sir? Perhaps I had better +count my money, after all?” +</p> +<p> +“Ahem! ahem!” coughed the old gentleman. +“Perhaps you don’t know who I am? There is +a vast difference between me—my condition, I +mean—and the gal and her mother.” +</p> +<p> +“Ah! Do you think so?” asked Mrs. Prentice, +and then turned her back upon him. “I +should like to know you better, my dear—and +your mother. I hope you will show me that I +am really forgiven by allowing me to call some +day——Oh! I couldn’t face your mother now. I +know just how I would feel myself if I had a +daughter who had been accused as I accused you. +I certainly need to take care—as our friend here +says.” +</p> +<p> +“I am sure mother would be pleased to meet +you,” stammered Jess. +</p> +<p> +“You know, I am Mrs. Prentice. My +brother-in-law, Patrick Sarsfield Prentice, is editor +and proprietor of the Centerport <em>Courier</em>.” +</p> +<p> +Jess’s interest was doubly aroused now. So +<em>this</em> was the rich Mrs. Prentice, whom they said +really backed Centerport’s newest venture in the +newspaper field? +</p> +<p> +“My mother has met Mr. Prentice—your +brother-in-law,” she said, diffidently. “You +know, mother writes. She is Mary Morse.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33'></a>33</span> +</p> +<p> +“Ah, yes,” said the lady, preparing to follow +Griff out. “I am really glad to have known you—but +I am sorry we began our acquaintance so +unfortunately.” +</p> +<p> +“That—that is all right, Mrs. Prentice,” returned +the girl. +</p> +<p> +Griff called back goodnight to her over his +shoulder. And at the gate he parted from the +lady whose carelessness had made all the trouble. +</p> +<p> +“That’s just what I told you, Mrs. Prentice,” +he said. “They’re all right folks, those Morses. +Yes, Mrs. Prentice, I’ll remember to send all +those things you ordered over in the morning—first +delivery,” and he went off, whistling. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34'></a>34</span><a name='chV' id='chV'></a>CHAPTER V—THERE IS A GENERAL NEED</h2> +<p> +Mrs Prentice would have turned away from +the gate of the Morse cottage and gone her homeward +way, too, had she not heard a cackling little +“ahem!” behind her. There was the wizened +Mr. Chumley right on her heels. +</p> +<p> +“Very fortunate escape—very fortunate escape, +indeed,” said the landlord. +</p> +<p> +“It was,” agreed the repentant lady. “I +might have gone farther and done much worse in +my excitement.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no,” said he. “I mean it was fortunate +for the girl—and her mother. Of course, +they’ve got nothing, and had the money really +been missing it would have looked bad.” +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Prentice eyed him in a way that would +have made a person with a thinner skin writhe a +little. But Mr. Chumley’s feelings were not +easily hurt. +</p> +<p> +“You evidently know all about those people?” +said the lady, brusquely. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes. They’ve been my tenants for some +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35'></a>35</span> +years. But rents are going up in this neighborhood +and——Well, I can get a much more satisfactory +tenant.” +</p> +<p> +“You have been warning them out of the cottage?” +asked Mrs. Prentice, quickly. +</p> +<p> +“Not just that,” said the old man, rubbing his +hands together as though he had an imaginary +cake of soap between them and was busily washing +the Morse affair from his palms. “You see, +I’ve told them I shall be obliged to increase their +rent at New Year’s.” +</p> +<p> +“What do they pay you now?” +</p> +<p> +Mr. Chumley told her frankly. He wasn’t +ashamed of what he took for the renting of that +particular piece of property. In a business way, +he was doing very well, and business was all that +mattered with Mr. Chumley. +</p> +<p> +“But that’s better than <em>I</em> can get for the same +sort of a cottage in this very vicinity,” exclaimed +Mrs. Prentice. +</p> +<p> +“Ah! these agents!” groaned Mr. Chumley, +shaking his head. “They never will do as well +as they should for an owner. I found that out +long ago. If I was a younger man, Mrs. Prentice, +I would take hold of your property and get +you twenty-five per cent. more out of it.” +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps,” commented the lady. “And you +intend to raise the rent on these people?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36'></a>36</span> +</p> +<p> +“I have done so. Three dollars. I can get +it. Besides, a woman alone ain’t good pay,” said +Chumley. “And they’re likely to fall behind +any time in the rent. Most uncertain income——” +</p> +<p> +“Is it true that Mrs. Morse writes for a living?” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know what sort of a livin’ she makes. +Foolish business. She’d better take in washing, +or go out to day’s work—that’s what she’d better +do,” snarled the old man. “This messin’ with +pen, ink, an’ a typewriter an’ thinkin’ she can +buy pork an’ pertaters on the proceeds——” +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps she doesn’t care for pork and potatoes, +my friend,” laughed the lady, eyeing Mr. +Chumley whimsically. +</p> +<p> +But a flush had crept into the old man’s withered +cheek again. He was on his hobby and he +rode it hard. +</p> +<p> +“Poor folks ain’t no business to have finicky +idees, or tastes,” he declared. “They gotter +work. That’s what they was put in the world +for—to work. There’s too many of ’em trying +to keep their hands clean, an’ livin’ above their +means. Mary Morse is a good, strong, hearty +woman. She’d ought to do something useful +with her hands instead of doing silly things with +her mind.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37'></a>37</span> +</p> +<p> +“So she writes silly things?” +</p> +<p> +“Stories! Not a word of truth in ’em, I +vum! I read one of ’em once,” declared Mr. +Chumley. “Widder Morse wants to ape these +well-to-do folks that live ’tother end o’ Whiffle +Street. Keeps her gal in high school when she’d +ought to be in a store or a factory, earnin’ her +keep. She’s big enough.” +</p> +<p> +“Do you think that’s a good way to bring up +girls—letting them go to work so early in life?” +</p> +<p> +“Why not?” asked the old man, in wonder. +“They kin work cheap and it helps trade. Too +much schoolin’ is bad for gals. They don’t need +it, anyway. And all the fal-lals and di-does they +l’arn ’em in high school now doesn’t amount to +a row of pins in practical life. No, ma’am!” +</p> +<p> +“But do these Morses have such a hard time +getting along?” asked Mrs. Prentice, trying to +bring the gossipy old gentleman back to the main +subject. +</p> +<p> +“They don’t meet their bills prompt,” snapped +the landlord. “Now! here I was in the house +to-night. I suggested that the gal pay the rent +for December; it’ll be due in a day or two. And +she didn’t have it. They’re often late with it. +I have to come two or three times before I get +it, some months. And I hear they owe the +tradesmen a good deal.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38'></a>38</span> +</p> +<p> +“They are really in need of sympathy and +help, then?” +</p> +<p> +“How’s that?” demanded Mr. Chumley, with +his cupped hand to his ear as though he could +not believe his own hearing. +</p> +<p> +The lady repeated her remark. +</p> +<p> +“There you go! You’re another of them folks +that waste their substance. I could see that by +your keerless handlin’ of money,” croaked Mr. +Chumley. “The Widder Morse don’t need help—she +needs sense, I tell ye.” +</p> +<p> +“And do you know what you need, Mr. Chumley?” +asked the lady, suddenly, and with some +asperity. +</p> +<p> +“Heh?” +</p> +<p> +“You need charity! We all need it. And +we’ve gossiped enough about our neighbors, I +declare! Good night, Mr. Chumley,” she added, +and turned off through the side street toward +her own home, leaving the old man to wend his +own way homeward, wagging his head and muttering +discourteous comments upon “all fool +women.” +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Prentice was a widow herself. But she +had no mawkish sentimentality. She had lived +in the world too many years for that. She was +not given to charities of any kind. But the +thought of Jess Morse and her widowed mother +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39'></a>39</span> +clung to her mind like a limpet to a rock—even +after she had dismissed her maid that night and +retired. +</p> +<p> +“Just think!” she muttered, with her head on +the pillow. “If that purse had been really lost I +might have made that young girl a lot of trouble—and +her mother. And she is such a frank, +courageous little thing! +</p> +<p> +“We <em>do</em> need more charity—the right kind. +Somehow—yes—I <em>must</em> do something to help +that girl.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40'></a>40</span><a name='chVI' id='chVI'></a>CHAPTER VI—IT ALL COMES OUT</h2> +<p> +Before morning old Jack Frost snapped his +fingers and the whole world was encased in ice. +The sidewalks were a glare, the trees, and bushes, +to their tiniest twig, were as brittle as icicles, and +a thin white blanket had been laid upon the lawns +along Whiffle Street. +</p> +<p> +It was the first really cold snap of winter. +Chet Belding came clumping down to breakfast +that Saturday morning. +</p> +<p> +“Skating shoes!” exclaimed his sister, Laura. +“What for, Sir Knight?” +</p> +<p> +“I bet a feller can skate in the street—on the +sidewalk—almost anywhere this morning,” declared +Chet, with enthusiasm. +</p> +<p> +“You don’t mean to try it?” cried Laura. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll eat my honorable grandmother’s hat if I +don’t——” +</p> +<p> +“Chetwood!” +</p> +<p> +The horrified ejaculation came from behind +the coffee percolator. Mrs. Belding had been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41'></a>41</span> +perusing her morning mail. Mr. Chetwood +chuckled, but graduated it into a pronounced +cough. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, ma’am!” said Chet, meekly. +</p> +<p> +“What <em>kind</em> of language is this that you bring +to our table? Your grandmother certainly was +honorable——” +</p> +<p> +“That’s an imitation of the stilted expressions +of the Japs and Chinks,” interrupted Chetwood. +“Thought you’d like it. It’s formal, abounds in +flowery expressions, and may not be hastened. +Quotation from Old Dimple,” he added, sotto +voce. +</p> +<p> +“Please leave your grandmother out of it,” +said Mrs. Belding, severely. “And if you mean +Professor Dimp, your teacher at Central High, +do not call him ‘Old Dimple’ in my presence,” +which showed that Mother Belding’s hearing was +pretty acute. +</p> +<p> +“Anyhow,” said Chet, “I’m going to try the +ice after breakfast. Going to get Lance and +we’ll have some fun. Better get your skates, +Laura.” +</p> +<p> +“No. I’m going to the store with father—if +we don’t both tumble down and roll to the bottom +of the hill at Market Street, like Jack and +Jill,” laughed his sister. +</p> +<p> +“Teams can’t get over the asphalt this morning,” said +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42'></a>42</span> +her brother. “We can coast clear to +the elbow, I bet you.” +</p> +<p> +He hurried through his breakfast and some +time after Laura and her father started for the +jewelry store, in which the girl had certain Saturday +morning tasks to perform, the voices of +Chet and his friends awoke the echoes of the +street as they skated on the asphalt. +</p> +<p> +Whiffle Street was an easy slope toward the +elbow, where Jess Morse and her mother lived. +Although the keen wind blew pretty strongly +right up the hill, when Laura and her father +started for the store the boys were holding hands +and in a line that swept the street from curb to +curb, sailed gaily down the hill upon their +skates. +</p> +<p> +“That’s fun!” exclaimed Laura, her cheeks +rosy with the wind, and her eyes sparkling. +</p> +<p> +“It’s just like life,” said her father, “It’s +easy going down hill; but see what a pull it is +to get up again,” for Chet and his comrades had +then begun the homeward skate. +</p> +<p> +Lance Darby, a fair-haired, rosy-cheeked lad, +who was Chet’s particular chum, was ahead +and he came, puffingly, to a stop just before +Laura. +</p> +<p> +“This is great—if it wasn’t for the ‘getting +back again.’ Good-morning, Mr. Belding.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43'></a>43</span> +</p> +<p> +“Why don’t you boys rig something to tow +you up the hill?” asked Laura, laughing, and +half hiding her face in her muff. +</p> +<p> +“Huh!” ejaculated her brother, coming up, +too. “How’d we rig it, Sis?” +</p> +<p> +“Come on, Mother Wit!” laughed Lance. +“You tell us.” +</p> +<p> +“Why—I declare, Chet’s got just the thing +standing behind the door in his den,” cried Laura, +her eyes twinkling. +</p> +<p> +“What?” cried Chet “You’re fooling us, +Laura. My snowshoes——” +</p> +<p> +“Not them,” laughed Laura, preparing to go +on with her father. +</p> +<p> +“I know!” shouted Lance, slapping his chum +suddenly on the back. He was as familiar with +Chet’s room as was Chet himself. +</p> +<p> +“Out with it, then!” demanded Chet. +</p> +<p> +“That big kite of yours. Wind’s directly up +the hill. We’ll get it and try the scheme. Oh, +you Mother Wit!” shouted Lance, after Laura. +“We’re going after the kite.” +</p> +<p> +And that suggestion of Laura’s was the beginning +of Chet and Lance Darby’s “mile-a-minute +iceboat”—but more of that wonderful +invention later. +</p> +<p> +Laura was halted again before she reached +Market Street, and her father went on without +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44'></a>44</span> +her, for it was now half-past eight. Jess Morse +waved to her from a window, and in a moment +came running out in a voluminous checked apron +and a gay sweater-coat, hastily “shrugged” +on. +</p> +<p> +“Where were you last night?” cried Laura. +“We missed you dreadfully at the M. O. R. +house.” +</p> +<p> +“I—I really couldn’t come,” said her chum, +hesitating just a little, for it was hard not to +be perfectly frank with Laura, who was always +so open and confidential with <em>her</em>. “Mother is +so busy—she worked half the night——” +</p> +<p> +“Genius burns the midnight oil, eh?” laughed +Laura. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, indeed. And now I’m about to make +her toast and brew her tea, and she will take it, +propped up in bed, and read over the work she +did last night. Saturdays, when I am home, is +mother’s ‘lazy day.’ She says she feels quite +like a lady of leisure then.” +</p> +<p> +“But you should have come to the first big +reception of the winter,” complained her chum. +</p> +<p> +“Couldn’t. But I heard that there was something +very wonderful going to happen, just the +same,” cried Jess. +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean?” +</p> +<p> +“About the prize.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45'></a>45</span> +</p> +<p> +“My goodness me! Somebody is a telltale,” +cried Laura, laughing. “We were not going to +spread the news until Monday morning.” +</p> +<p> +Jess told her how the rumor of the prize had +come to her ears. +</p> +<p> +“No use—it’s all out, and all over town, if +Bobby Hargrew got hold of it.” +</p> +<p> +“But what’s Mrs. Mabel Kerrick going to give +the two hundred dollars <em>for?</em>” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Jess! it’s a great scheme, I believe—and +it’s mine,” said Laura, proudly. +</p> +<p> +“But you don’t tell me <em>what</em> it is,” cried her +chum, impatiently. +</p> +<p> +“It’s to be given for the best play written by +a Central High girl, between now and the first +of January. Any girl can compete—even the +freshies. And then we’ll produce it, and get +money for the M. O. R. building fund.” +</p> +<p> +“A play!” gasped Jess, her face flushing. +</p> +<p> +“That’s it. And the Lockwood girls are going +to try for it—and so’s Nell Agnew. Will +you, Jess? Just think of two hundred dollars!” +</p> +<p> +“I am thinking of it,” replied her chum. “Oh, +Laura! I’m thinking of it all the time.” +</p> +<p> +She said it so earnestly that Laura stared at +her in amazement. +</p> +<p> +“My dear child!” she cried. “Does two hundred +dollars mean so much to you?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46'></a>46</span> +</p> +<p> +“I—I can’t tell you how <em>hard</em> I want to win +it,” gasped Jess. +</p> +<p> +“Well! I’m going to try for it, too,” laughed +Laura, suddenly, seizing her friend’s arm and +giving it an affectionate squeeze. “But I <em>do</em> +hope, if I can’t win it, that you do!” +</p> +<p> +“Thank you, Laura!” replied her friend, +gravely. +</p> +<p> +“And your mother’s a writer—you must have +talent, too, for writing, Jess.” +</p> +<p> +“That doesn’t follow, I guess,” laughed Jess. +“You know that Si Jones talks like a streak of +greased lightning—so Chet says, anyway—but +his son, Phil, is a deaf-mute. Talent for writing +runs in families the same as wooden legs.” +</p> +<p> +“So you do not believe that even a little reflected +glory bathes your path through life?” +chuckled Laura. +</p> +<p> +“I am not sure that I would want to be a +professional writer like mother,” sighed Jess, her +mind dwelling on the trouble they were in. +“There is a whole lot to it besides ‘glory.’” +</p> +<p> +“Well, if I can’t write the winning play, I +hope you do, Jess,” repeated Laura, going on +after her father. +</p> +<p> +Jess returned to her work indoors. From the +window, after a little, she caught sight of a +whole string of boys sliding up the hill of Whiffle +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47'></a>47</span> +Street on their skates, the big kite which Chet +and Lance had raised supplying the motive +power. +</p> +<p> +Chet beckoned her out to have a part in the +fun; but much more serious matters filled Jess +Morse’s mind. When her mother finally arose, +and folded and sealed and addressed the packet +containing her night’s work, Jess had to go out +and mail it. +</p> +<p> +“I really believe that is a good story, Jess,” +said her mother, who was sanguine of temperament. +She had a childish faith in the success +of every manuscript she sent out; and usually +when her chickens “came home to roost” her +spirits withstood the shock admirably. +</p> +<p> +“Now, don’t forget the list of things you were +to get at Mr. Closewick’s,” added Mrs. Morse. +Jess had kept her evening’s troubles strictly to +herself. “I believe he sent in a bill, but you +tell him how it is; we’ll have money in a day +or two.” +</p> +<p> +“But, Mother, we owe other stores, too,” +murmured Jess. +</p> +<p> +“I know it, child. But don’t remind me——” +</p> +<p> +“And the rent will be due. Mr. Chumley was +here last night——” +</p> +<p> +“Not for his rent so soon?” cried the irresponsible +lady. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48'></a>48</span> +</p> +<p> +“But he is going to raise our rent—three dollars +more after January first.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, how mean of him!” exclaimed Mrs. +Morse. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t see how we are going to get it, +Mother,” said Jess, worriedly. +</p> +<p> +“Well, that’s true. But we’ve got another +month before we need to cross <em>that</em> bridge.” +</p> +<p> +That was Mrs. Morse’s way. Perhaps it was +as well that she allowed such responsibilities to +slip past her like water running off the feathers +of a duck. +</p> +<p> +“And if Mr. Closewick shouldn’t want to—to +trust us any longer, Mother?” suggested Jess. +That was as near as she could get to telling the +good lady what had really happened the night +before. +</p> +<p> +“Why! that would be most mortifying. He +won’t do it, though. But if he does, we’ll immediately +begin trading elsewhere, I don’t really +think Mr. Closewick always gives us good +weight, at that!” +</p> +<p> +Jess could only sigh. It was always the way. +Mrs. Morse saw things from a most surprising +angle. She was just as honest—intentionally—as +she could be, but the ethics of business dealing +were not quite straight in her mind. +</p> +<p> +And something must be done this very day to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49'></a>49</span> +put food in the larder. What little Jess had +brought in from Mr. Vandergriff’s store would +not last them over Sunday. And her mother +seemed to think that everybody else would be +just as sanguine of her getting a check as she +was herself. +</p> +<p> +“I do wish you had been able to get steady +work with the <em>Courier</em>,” spoke Jess, as she prepared +to go out. +</p> +<p> +“That would have been nice,” admitted her +mother. “And I am in a position to know a +good deal of what goes on socially on the Hill. +I am welcome in the homes of the very best people, +for your father’s sake, Jess. He was a very +fine man, indeed.” +</p> +<p> +“And for your own sake, too, Mamma!” +cried Jess, who was really, after all, very proud +of her mother’s talent. +</p> +<p> +“It would have been nice,” repeated Mrs. +Morse. “And certainly the <em>Courier</em> is not covering +the Hill as well as might be. I pointed +that out to Mr. Prentice; but he is limited in +expenditures, I suppose, the paper being a new +venture.” +</p> +<p> +It was on the tip of the girl’s tongue to tell +her mother of the visit of Mr. Prentice’s sister-in-law +the evening before. But why disturb her +mother’s mind with all that trouble? So she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50'></a>50</span> +said nothing, kissed her fondly, and sallied forth +to beard in their lairs “the butcher, the baker, +and the candlestick maker.” And, truly, there +were few girls in Centerport that day with +greater lions in their way than those in the path +of Jess Morse. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51'></a>51</span><a name='chVII' id='chVII'></a>CHAPTER VII—THE HAND HELD OUT</h2> +<p> +When Jess came out of the house there was +a group of her schoolmates—and not all of them +boys—at the foot of the Whiffle Street hill. Being +towed by Chet’s big kite had became a game +that all hands wanted to try. But the sun was +getting warmer and the icy street would soon be +slushy and the skates would cut through. +</p> +<p> +“I’ve had enough,” said Bobby Hargrew, removing +her skates when she spied Jess. “The +policeman has warned us once, and he’ll be mad +next time he comes around if we’re here still.” +</p> +<p> +“Better get your skates, Jess, and try it just +once,” urged Chet Belding, who was very partial +to his sister’s closet chum. +</p> +<p> +“I can’t, Chet,” replied Jess. “I must do +my Saturday’s marketing.” +</p> +<p> +“Hullo! here’s Short and Long!” cried +Bobby, as a very short boy with very brisk legs +came sliding down the hill with a big bundle under +his arm. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52'></a>52</span> +</p> +<p> +Billy Long was an industrious youngster who +only allowed himself leisure to keep up in athletics +after school hours, because he liked to earn +something toward his family’s support. +</p> +<p> +“Stop and try a ride, Billy,” urged Lance +Darby, holding the cord of the tugging kite. +</p> +<p> +“Can’t. Going on an errand.” +</p> +<p> +“Hey, Billy! how’s your dyspepsia?” demanded +another of the boys. +</p> +<p> +Billy grinned. Bobby exclaimed: +</p> +<p> +“Now, don’t tell me that Short and Long ever +has trouble with his digestion—I won’t believe +it!” +</p> +<p> +“He sure had a bad case of it yesterday,” +drawled Chet Belding. “At least, so Mr. Sharp +said. Billy spelled it with an ‘i’.” +</p> +<p> +“Let me use your knife a minute, please?” +asked Bobby, who was still struggling with a +refractory strap. “No! just toss it to me.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s all right,” returned the small boy, +with a grin, as he walked over and carefully +handed Bobby the knife. “I don’t take any +chances with girls in throwing, or catching. All +my sister can do is to throw a fit, or catch a +cold!” +</p> +<p> +“Ow! isn’t that a wicked statement?” cried +Bobby. “You know it isn’t so. But you’re +right down ignorant, Billy. You’re just as bad +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53'></a>53</span> +as Postscript was in Gee Gee’s class one day this +week.” +</p> +<p> +“Who’s ‘Postscript’?” demanded Lance. +“That’s a new one on me.” +</p> +<p> +“Why,” said Bobby, her black eyes twinkling, +“I mean Adeline Moore. <em>That’s</em> a postscript, +isn’t it?” +</p> +<p> +“What happened to Addie?” asked Jess, as +the others laughed. +</p> +<p> +“Why, she got befuddled in reciting something +about an Indian uprising that came in our +American History hour. It’s all review stuff, +you know. +</p> +<p> +“‘What is it that you call an Indian woman, +Adeline?’ Gee Gee asked, real sharp. +</p> +<p> +“And Addie jumped, and stammered, and finally +said: +</p> +<p> +“‘A squaw, please, Miss Carrington.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘And what do you call her baby, then?’ +snapped Gee Gee. +</p> +<p> +“‘A—a squawker,’ says Addie, and the poor +thing got a black mark for it. Wasn’t that +mean?” +</p> +<p> +“Miss Grace G. Carrington was in one of her +moods,” observed Chet, when the laugh had subsided. +</p> +<p> +“She’s subject to moods,” Lance drawled. +</p> +<p> +“No, she’s not!” cried Bobby Hargrew. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54'></a>54</span> +“She only had one mood—the imperative—and +we girls are all subject to that,” and she sighed, +for Bobby was frequently in trouble with the +very strict assistant principal of Central High +whom she disrespectfully referred to as “Gee +Gee.” +</p> +<p> +Jess and her friend had left the others now +and were approaching Market Street. Like +everybody else on the walks, they had to be careful +how they stepped, and it was with many a +laugh and gibe that Bobby Hargrew beguiled +the way. Jess, however, was serious once more. +</p> +<p> +“Are you really going in for that prize Mrs. +Kerrick is going to put up for us?” demanded +Bobby. +</p> +<p> +“Do you know what it’s for?” +</p> +<p> +“No—I haven’t heard that,” said the younger +girl. “But for two hundred dollars I’d learn +tatting—or darn socks. Daddy says I ought to +learn to darn his. What’s it all about, anyway? +I suppose Laura knows?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes. It’s a play. The girl who writes the +best one, that can be acted by us boys and girls +of Central High, is to get the prize.” +</p> +<p> +“Gee! won’t that be nuts for Miss Gould?” +cried Bobby. “You know, she tried us out in +blank verse the other day, and I made a hit. +My stately lines were spoken of with commendation. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55'></a>55</span> +And when she told us to bring in a +rhyme, or poetry—whichever we had the courage +to call it—I wanted to read mine out loud. +But she wouldn’t let me. She said she had not +intended to start a school for humorous poets.” +</p> +<p> +“What did you hand in?” asked Jess, smiling. +</p> +<p> +“Want to hear it?” cried Bobby, eagerly, digging +into her pocket which—like a boy’s—was +always filled with a conglomeration of articles. +“Listen here!” she added, drawing forth a +crumpled paper. “This is called ‘Such is Life’ +and really, I was hurt that Miss Gould considered +it so lightly,” and she began to read at once: +</p> +<p> + “‘William Wright was often wrong<br /> + And Thomas Goode was bad;<br /> + While Griffith Smiley, odd to state,<br /> + Was almost always sad.<br /> + Jedediah Rich was very poor,<br /> + While Ozias Poor was rich,<br /> + And Eliphalet Q. Carpenter<br /> + Earned his living digging ditch.<br /> + Tom White was black Jim Black was white,<br /> + And Jose Manuel Green was brown;<br /> + While Ching Ling Blu was yellow,<br /> + As was known all over town!’<br /> +</p> +<p> +“I’d have made more of it,” added Bobby, “only +Miss Gould didn’t seem to care for that kind of +poetry. And I suppose if I tried my hand at a +play that I would be unable to hit the popular +taste,” and she sighed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56'></a>56</span> +</p> +<p> +“I guess they won’t demand verse from us +in this play,” giggled Jess. “And that is most +atrocious, Bobby.” +</p> +<p> +“Think so?” returned her friend, her eyes +twinkling. “And you’ll do a whole lot better +when it comes to writing your own play, I +s’pose?” +</p> +<p> +“It won’t be in verse—blank, or otherwise,” +admitted Jess. +</p> +<p> +“You really <em>are</em> going to try for it?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, Bobby, I’d love to win that two hundred +dollars. I don’t suppose I can. All the +girls will try, I expect, and Laura, or Nell Agnew, +will get it. But I want that two hundred +dollars worse than I ever wanted anything in my +life!” +</p> +<p> +She spoke so earnestly that Bobby was impressed. +The latter glanced at her sidewise and +a shrewd little smile hovered about her lips for a +moment, which Jess did not observe. +</p> +<p> +“Where are you bound for, Jess?” she asked +abruptly. +</p> +<p> +“Marketing.” +</p> +<p> +“You trade at Heuffler’s market, don’t you? +That’s right around the corner from father’s +store. Why don’t you ever patronize <em>our</em> place +for groceries. I’m drumming up trade,” said +Bobby, grinning. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57'></a>57</span> +</p> +<p> +“I guess our trade wouldn’t amount to much,” +said Jess, flushing a little. +</p> +<p> +“‘Every little bit added to what you’ve got +makes just a little bit more,’” quoted Bobby. +“And let me tell you, Mr. Thomas Hargrew +keeps first-class goods and only asks a fair +profit.” +</p> +<p> +Jess laughed; but she caught at the straw held +out to her, too. She knew it would be useless +to go to Mr. Closewick’s, where they usually +traded. Was it honest to try and obtain credit +at another grocery? +</p> +<p> +“I am afraid your father wouldn’t welcome +me as a customer,” said Jess, gravely. “Ours +isn’t always a cash trade. Mother’s money +comes so very irregular that we have to run a +bill at the grocery and the market and other +places.” +</p> +<p> +“Come on and give us a sample order,” urged +Bobby. “Father will be glad to get another +book account. Now, if <em>you</em> were running a +store I’d patronize it! We Central High girls +ought to work together—just like a lodge. Come +on.” +</p> +<p> +She fairly dragged Jess by the hand into the +store on Market Street, over the door of which +Mr. Hargrew’s name was displayed. The clerks +were busy at the moment, but Mr. Hargrew was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58'></a>58</span> +at his desk in the corner. Bobby ran to him and +whispered quickly: +</p> +<p> +“Here she is, Father. You remember what +that Mrs. Brown said last night about old Closewick +refusing her credit after her mother had +traded there so long. And I am sure Jess is in +trouble and needs help. Do wait on her, +Father.” +</p> +<p> +“If you say so, Bob,” returned the big man, +smiling down upon the girl who, he often said, +“was as good as any boy.” “You’ll have to +come into this store and share the business when +you get older; and you might as well learn to +judge customers now. And, if they <em>need</em> +help——” +</p> +<p> +He came out to Jess Morse immediately, smiling +and bowing like the suave storekeeper he +was. +</p> +<p> +“Glad to see you, Miss, What can we do +for you this morning?” +</p> +<p> +“Why—why,” stammered Jess, “Bobby +urged me to come in; but, really, Mr. Hargrew, +it seems like asking a big favor of you, for we +have never traded here much.” +</p> +<p> +“We are always glad to make a new connection,” +said the storekeeper, +</p> +<p> +“But mother—we are obliged to ask for +credit——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59'></a>59</span> +</p> +<p> +“And that is what I have to do very frequently +myself,” interposed Mr. Hargrew, still +smiling. “What is it you wish, Miss Morse? +Your credit is good here, I assure you. You +have brought the very best of references—my +daughter’s. Now, what is the first article?” +</p> +<p> +Jess could have cried with relief! Somehow +she felt that Bobby and her father must know of +her need, yet not a word or sign from either +betrayed that fact. And one would scarcely suspect +harum-scarum Bobby Hargrew of engineering +such a delicate bit of business. +</p> +<p> +Nevertheless, Jess was vastly encouraged by +this incident. She went into the meat shop and +purchased a small piece of lamb for over Sunday +and Mr. Heuffler did not ask her for his bill. +She hoped that “something would turn up” and +watched the mails very eagerly, hoping that a +fugitive check might come. But the postman +never came near the little cottage at the elbow +in Whiffle Street, all that day. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60'></a>60</span><a name='chVIII' id='chVIII'></a>CHAPTER VIII—THE RACE IS ON</h2> +<p> +There was a rustle of expectancy—upon the +girls’ side, at least—at Assembly on Monday +morning. Rumors of the prize offered for the +best play written by a girl of Central High had +aroused great interest and the school eagerly +awaited Mr. Sharp’s brief remarks regarding it. +</p> +<p> +“It is not our wish,” said the principal, in the +course of his speech, “to restrict the contestants +in their choice of subjects, or in methods of +treatment. The play may be pure comedy, +comedy-drama, tragedy—even farce—or melodrama. +Miss Gould will confine her lectures +this week in English to the discussion of plays +and play-making. Candidates for fame—and +for Mrs. Kerrick’s very handsome prize—may +learn much if they will faithfully attend Miss +Gould’s classes. And, of course, it is understood +that there must be no neglect of the regular +school work by those striving for the laurel +of the playwright. +</p> +<p> +“I doubt if we have any budding female +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61'></a>61</span> +Shakespeares among us, yet I realize that the +youthful mind naturally slants towards tragedy +and the redundant phrases of the Greek and +Latin masters, as read in their translation; but +let me advise all you young ladies who wish to +compete for the prize, to select a simple subject +and treat it simply. +</p> +<p> +“Have your play display human nature as you +know it, and realism without morbidness.” +</p> +<p> +The girls of Central High who had heretofore +excelled in composition naturally were looked +upon as favorites in this race for dramatic honors. +Among the Juniors, Laura Belding and +Nellie Agnew always received high marks for +such work. They possessed the knack of composition +and were what Bobby Hargrew called +“fluid writers.” +</p> +<p> +“If it was a jingle or limerick, I’d stand a +chance,” sighed Bobby to herself. “But think +of the sustained effort of writing a whole play! +Gee! two hours and a half long. It would break +my heart to sit still long enough to do it.” +</p> +<p> +Jess Morse had never tried to more than pass +in English composition. For the very reason, +perhaps, that she had seen the practical side of +such a career at home, she had not, like so many +girls of her age, contemplated seriously literary +employment for herself. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62'></a>62</span> +</p> +<p> +Lily Pendleton was known to have once essayed +an erotic novel, and had read a few chapters +to some of her closer friends. Bobby said +it should have been written on yellow paper with +an asbestos pad under it to save scorching Miss +Pendleton’s desk. Of course, Lily would attempt +a play in the most romantic style. +</p> +<p> +The boys began to hatch practical jokes anent +the play-writing before the week was out; and +one afternoon Chet Belding appeared in a group +of his sister’s friends, and with serious face declared +he had with him the outline and introductory +scene of Laura’s play, its caption being: +</p> +<p> +“The Poisoned Bathing-Suit; or, The Summer +Boarder’s Revenge.” +</p> +<p> +Some of the girls—and not alone the Juniors +like Laura, Nellie and Jess—were very serious +about this matter of the play. Mrs. Kerrick’s +prize spurred every girl who had the least ability +in that direction to begin writing a dramatic +piece. Some, of course, did not get far; but the +main topic of discussion out of school hours +among the girls of Central High was the play +and the prize. +</p> +<p> +Jess talked it over with her mother, and Mrs. +Morse grew highly excited. +</p> +<p> +“Why, Josephine, dear, if you could win that +prize it would be splendid! Then you could +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63'></a>63</span> +have a new party dress—and a really nice one—and +the furs I have been hoping to buy you for +two seasons. Dear, dear! what a lot of things +you really could get for that sum.” +</p> +<p> +“I guess it would help us out a whole lot,” admitted +the girl “We need so many things——” +</p> +<p> +“Why, I shouldn’t allow you to use a cent of +it for the household—or for me,” cried her +mother. “No, indeed.” +</p> +<p> +“I haven’t won it yet,” sighed Jess. “But +I guess if I did win it you’d have to take a part +of it, Mother.” +</p> +<p> +“Nonsense, child!” cried Mrs. Morse. +“We’ll have some checks in shortly. And we +sha’n’t starve meanwhile. Now, let us look over +this plot you have evolved and perhaps I can suggest +some helpful points—and show you how to +write brisk dialogue. That is something the editors +always praise me for—although I have +never dared try a play myself. It is so hard +to get a hearing before a really responsible manager.” +</p> +<p> +Outside help for the girls was not debarred +by the terms of the contest, so long as the main +thread of plot in each play was original with the +author, and she actually did the work. Jess +listened to the practical suggestions of her mother +in relation to her play; but all the time she had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64'></a>64</span> +upon her mind, too, the domestic difficulties that +seemed to have culminated just now in a single +great billow of trouble. +</p> +<p> +No money had come in. She had been obliged +to go once more to Mr. Hargrew for groceries, +and to the meat store and to Mr. Vandergriff’s. +Her mother could talk in her cheerful +manner about what she could do with the two +hundred dollar prize if she earned it. But Jess +was very sure that she would not spend it for +personal adornment—although no girl at Central +High loved to be dressed in the mode more +than Jess Morse. +</p> +<p> +“If such a <em>darling</em> thing should happen as +my winning the prize, I’d put it all in the bank +for a nest-egg,” she thought. “Then, when +checks do not come in, we would not have to ask +for credit. We’d pay up all debts and start +square with the world. And then—and then I’d +be perfectly happy!” +</p> +<p> +The first of the month arrived, and with it +Mr. Chumley. Mrs. Morse was busy at her desk +and said: +</p> +<p> +“Just tell him, Josephine, that we will have it +shortly. He needn’t come again. I’ll let you +take it around to his house to him when I get +it.” +</p> +<p> +But this did not suit the old man, and he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65'></a>65</span> +pushed his way, for once, into the presence of +the literary lady. +</p> +<p> +“Now, see here! Now, see here!” he cackled. +“This won’t do at all, Widder—this won’t +do at all! I want my money, and I want it +prompt. And if you can’t pay your present rent +prompt, how do you expect to pay it next month, +when you must find three dollars more? Now, +tell me that, Ma’am?” +</p> +<p> +“Really, Mr. Chumley! You are too bad,” +complained Mrs. Morse. “I am so hard at +work. You quite drive the ideas out of my +head. I—I don’t know what train of thought +I was following.” +</p> +<p> +Mr. Chumley snorted. “You’d better be +huntin’ the advertisement columns of a newspaper +for a job, Widder,” he said. “Them +‘trains of thought’ of yours won’t never carry +you nowhere. I gotter have my money. How +are you going to get it?” +</p> +<p> +“I have never failed to pay you heretofore, +have I?” asked the lady, bringing out her handkerchief +now. “I think this is too bad——” +</p> +<p> +“But I want money!” +</p> +<p> +“And you shall have it, I have considerable +owing to me—oh, yes! a good deal more than +sufficient to pay your rent, Mr. Chumley. You +will get it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66'></a>66</span> +</p> +<p> +That was a very unsatisfactory interview for +the landlord, and particularly so for Mrs. Morse. +She complained when he had gone to Jess: +</p> +<p> +“Now, my day is just spoiled. I’m all at +loose ends. It will cost me a day’s work. +Really, Josephine, if only people wouldn’t nag +me so for money!” +</p> +<p> +And Jess strove to shield her all that she could +from such interviews. Mrs. Morse needed to +live alone in a world with her brain-children. +Meanwhile her flesh-and-blood child had to fight +her battles with the landlord and tradesmen. +</p> +<p> +It was amid such sordid troubles that Jess +evolved the idea for her play. The butterfly is +born of the ugly chrysalis; out of this unlovely +environment grew a pretty, idyllic comedy +which, although crude in spots, and lacking the +professional touch which makes a dramatic +piece “easy acting,” really showed such promise +that Mrs. Morse acclaimed its value loudly. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Mother! don’t praise me so much,” +begged Jess. “The theme is good, I know. But +it scares me. How can I ever dress it up to +make it sound like a real play? It sounds so +jerky and imperfect—that part that I have written, +I mean.” +</p> +<p> +“There is something a dramatic critic told me +once that may be true,” replied her mother. “It +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67'></a>67</span> +was that the piece which reads smoothly seldom +acts well; whereas a play that ‘gets over the +footlights’ usually reads poorly. You see, action +cannot be read aloud; and it is the action that +accompanies the words of a dramatic piece that +makes those words tell. +</p> +<p> +“I am not sure that Mr. Sharp and his +committee will consider your play the best +written, from a literary standpoint; but I understand +that they have invited Mr. Monterey, the +manager of the Centerport Opera House, to read +the plays, too. And you, Josephine, write for +<em>him;</em> for they will depend upon his judgment in +the choice of the acting qualities of the piece.” +</p> +<p> +This was good advice, as Jess very well knew. +And she could barely keep her mind sufficiently +upon her school work to pass the eagle scrutiny +of Miss Grace G. Carrington, so wrapped up was +she in the play. Not even to Laura did she confide +any facts regarding the piece. Some of the +girls openly discussed what they had done, and +what they hoped; but Jess kept still. +</p> +<p> +Thursday came and in her mother’s morning +mail was a letter with the card of the Centerport +<em>Courier</em> in the corner. +</p> +<p> +“Now, what can that be?” drawled Mrs. +Morse, when Jess eagerly brought it to her. +“They buy no fugitive matter, and I haven’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68'></a>68</span> +sent them anything since having my interview +with Mr. Prentice. I really would have been +happier to see a letter like that from one of the +New York magazines; it might have contained a +check in that case,” and she slowly slit the +envelope. +</p> +<p> +But Jess waited in the background with suppressed +eagerness in her face and attitude. At +once her thought had leaped to Mrs. Prentice. +She had not told her mother a word about that +lady’s visit on Friday evening, nor her errand +to the house. But if Mrs. Prentice was really +“the power behind the throne” in the <em>Courier</em> +office, she might easily put some regular work in +the way of Mrs. Morse. +</p> +<p> +“Listen to this, child!” exclaimed her mother, +having glanced hastily through the letter. “Perhaps +I had better take this—for a time, at least. +I don’t like the idea of being tied down—it +might interfere with my magazine work——” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Mother!” cried Jess. “What is it?” +</p> +<p> +“Listen: Addressed to me, ‘Dear Madam:—Will +reconsider your suggestion of covering Hill +section for society news. Can afford at least +five dollars’ worth of space through the week, +and perhaps something extra on Sunday. Come +and see me again. Respectfully, P. S. Prentice.’ +Well!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69'></a>69</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Mother!” repeated Jess. “What a +splendid chance!” +</p> +<p> +“Why, Josephine, not so very splendid,” said +her mother, slowly. “He only guarantees me +five dollars weekly. That is not much.” +</p> +<p> +“It will feed us—if we are careful,” gasped +Jess. +</p> +<p> +“Goodness, Josephine! What a horribly +practical child you are getting to be. I don’t +know what the girls of to-day are coming to. +Now, that would never have appealed to me +when I was your age. I never knew how papa +and mamma got food for us.” +</p> +<p> +Jess might have told her that conditions had +not changed much since her girlhood! +</p> +<p> +“But five dollars regularly will help us a whole +lot, Mother,” she urged. +</p> +<p> +“And it will necessitate my going out considerably—and +appearing at receptions and +places. Really—I have refused a number of invitations +because of my wardrobe. My excuse +of ‘work’ is not always strictly true,” sighed +Mrs. Morse. +</p> +<p> +“But do, <em>do</em> try it, Mother!” cried Jess. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said the lady, “it may do no harm. +And it may be an opening for something better. +But, really, nobody must know that I am a mere +society reporter on the Centerport <em>Courier</em>.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70'></a>70</span><a name='chIX' id='chIX'></a>CHAPTER IX—A SKATING PARTY</h2> +<p> +The girls of the Junior class in modern history +were filing out on Friday. +</p> +<p> +“What do you know about that?” hissed +Bobby Hargrew, in the ears of her chums. +“Gee Gee is getting meaner and meaner every +day she lives.” +</p> +<p> +“What did she do to you now?” demanded +Dora Lockwood, one of the twins. +</p> +<p> +“Didn’t you notice? She sent Postscript to +hunt up Moscow on the map of Russia. Now! +you know very well that Moscow was burned +in 1812!” +</p> +<p> +“You ridiculous child!” exclaimed Nellie +Agnew. “You will never do anything in school +but make jokes and try the patience of your +teachers.” +</p> +<p> +“I am no friend to teachers, I admit,” confided +Bobby to Dora and Dorothy. “Don’t you +think they ought to be made to earn their +money?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71'></a>71</span> +</p> +<p> +“Any teacher who is so unfortunate as to +have you in his, or her, class, is bound to earn +all the salary coming to them,” declared Dorothy. +</p> +<p> +“Bad grammar—but you don’t know any +better,” declared the harum-scarum. “You’re +just as bad as Freddie Atkinson. Dimple asked +him who compiled the dictionary, and Freddie +said, ‘Daniel Webster.’ +</p> +<p> +“‘No, sir! Noah!’ snapped Dimple. +</p> +<p> +“‘Oh, Professor!’ exclaimed Fred. ‘I +thought Noah compiled the Ark?’” +</p> +<p> +As the girls were laughing over this story of +Bobby Hargrew’s, Eve Sitz came up briskly. +Laura and Jess were near at hand, and in a +moment a group of the Juniors who always +“trained together” were in animated discussion. +</p> +<p> +“Yes. It’s frozen hard. Otto was on it with +a pair of horses and our pung,” declared Eve, +who came in every morning from the country +on the train, and whose father owned a big farm +over beyond Robinson’s Woods. +</p> +<p> +“What’s frozen?” demanded Dora. +</p> +<p> +“Peveril Pond. It’s as smooth as glass. I +want you to all come over on Saturday afternoon; +we’ll have a lot of fun,” declared Eve. +</p> +<p> +“You’re always inviting us to the farm, Evangeline,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72'></a>72</span> +said Nellie Agnew; “I should think +your father and mother would be tired of having +us overrun the place.” +</p> +<p> +“Never you mind about them,” declared +Evangeline, smiling. “They love to have young +folks around. Now, remember! Saturday at +noon the autos will start from the Beldings’ +front door—if it doesn’t snow.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, snow!” cried Bobby. “I hope not yet.” +</p> +<p> + “‘Beautiful snow! he may sing whom it suits—<br /> + I object to the stuff, ‘cause it soaks through my boots!’”<br /> +</p> +<p> +“It’s too bad,” said Jess, “that Mrs. Kerrick +didn’t offer a prize for verse. Bobby would win +it, sure!” +</p> +<p> +“Never you mind,” said Bobby, with mock +solemnity. “I may surprise you all yet. I am +capable of turning out tragic stuff—you bet +your boots!” +</p> +<p> +“Mercy, Bobby! how slangy you are getting,” +murmured Nell Agnew, the doctor’s daughter. +</p> +<p> +“You think I cannot be serious?” demanded +Bobby, very gravely. “Listen here. Here is +what I call ‘The Lay of the Last Minorca’—not +the ‘Last Minstrel!’ +</p> +<p> +“‘She laid the still white form beside those +that had gone before,’” quoth Bobby, in sepulchral +tone. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73'></a>73</span> +</p> +<p> +“‘No sob, no sigh, forced its way from her +heart, throbbing as though it would burst. +</p> +<p> +“‘Suddenly a cry broke the stillness of the +place—a single heartbreaking shriek, which +seemed to well up from her very soul, as +she left the place: +</p> +<p> +“‘“Cut, cut, cut-ah-out!” +</p> +<p> +“‘She would lay another egg to-morrow.’” +</p> +<p> +“You ridiculous girl!” exclaimed Laura. +“Aren’t you ever serious at all?” +</p> +<p> +“My light manner hides a breaking +hear-r-r-t,” croaked Bobby. “You don’t +know me, Laura, as I really <em>are!</em>” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t want to,” declared Laura Belding, +briskly. “It must be awful to be a humorist. +All right, Eve. We’ll come on Saturday. Chet +will see Mr. Purcell about the big car. Lake +Luna is frozen only at the edges, and is unsafe. +But we will have a good time at Peveril Pond.” +</p> +<p> +Fortunately Mrs. Morse received payment for +a story in a magazine that week or Jess would +never have had the heart to join the skating +party. But the sum realized was sufficient to +settle with Mr. Closewick, pay the month’s rent +of the cottage, and pay a part of each bill at +Mr. Heuffler’s and Mr. Vandergriff’s shops. +</p> +<p> +These payments left Jess and her mother almost +as badly off as they were before. And +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74'></a>74</span> +there was the new account started at Mr. Hargrew’s. +But Chet Belding urged Jess very +strongly to be his guest on Saturday, and there +was really no reason why Jess should not go. +Her mother had seen Mr. Prentice and begun +furnishing items to the <em>Courier</em> from day to +day; and the girl felt that, with care, they might +be able to keep from getting so deeply into debt +again. +</p> +<p> +No snow had fallen up to Saturday noon; but +it was cold, and the clouds threatened a feathery +fall before many hours. The young folk who +gathered in the big hall of the Belding house +thought little of the cold, however. There were +warm robes and blankets in the Belding auto +and in the sightseeing machine that Mr. Purcell +had sent. Chet, in his bearskin coat, looked like +the original owner of the garment—especially +when he pulled the goggles down from the visor +of his cap, and prepared to go out to the car. +</p> +<p> +“My dear fellow,” drawled Prettyman Sweet, +the dandy of Central High, who was of the +party, “you look howwidly fewocious, doncher +know! I wouldn’t dwess in such execrable taste +for any sum you could mention—no, sir!” +</p> +<p> +“Beauty’s only skin deep, they say, Pretty,” +responded Chet “So, if you were flayed, you +might look quite human yourself.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75'></a>75</span> +</p> +<p> +“Purt” was gorgeous in a Canadian skating +suit—or so the tailor who sold it to him had +called it. It was all crimson and white, with +a fur-edged velvet cap that it really took courage +to wear, and fur-topped boots. And his +gloves! they were marvels. One of them lying +on the floor of the Beldings’ hall gave Topsy, +Mrs. Belding’s pet terrier, such a fright that +she pretty nearly barked her head off. +</p> +<p> +She made so much noise that Lance grabbed +at her and tried to put her out of the room, +Topsy still barking furiously. +</p> +<p> +“You look out!” drawled Bobby Hargrew. +“One end of that dog bites, Lance!” +</p> +<p> +They turned Purt around and around to get +the beauties of his costume at every angle. And +they “rigged” him sorely. But the exquisite +was used to it; he would only have felt badly if +they had ignored his new “get-up.” +</p> +<p> +“It’s quite the thing, I assure you,” he declared. +“And, weally, one should pay some attention +to the styles. You fellows, weally, dress +in execrable taste.” +</p> +<p> +When the party was complete they bundled +into their wraps again and piled into the machines. +Mrs. Belding had retired to her own +room until the “devastation of the barbarians,” +as she called it, was past; but Mammy Jinny +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76'></a>76</span> +straightened up the hall and dining room after +the young folk with great cheerfulness. +</p> +<p> +“Yo’ know how yo’ was yo’self, Miss Annie, +w’en yo’ was oberflowin’ wid de sperits ob +youth,” she said, soothingly. +</p> +<p> +“I am sure I never overflowed quite so boisterously,” +sighed Mrs. Belding. +</p> +<p> +“No. Yo’ warn’t one ob de oberflowin’ kind, +Miss Annie,” admitted the old black woman. +“But Mars’ Chet an’ Miss Laura, and dem +friends ob theirs, sartain sure kin kick up a +mighty combobberation—yaas’m!” +</p> +<p> +The wintry wind blew sharply past the crowd +of Central High Juniors as the Belding auto and +the bigger machine struck a fast pace when once +they had cleared the city. There was lots of +fun in the autos on the way to the Sitz farm; +but they were all glad to tumble out there and +crowd into the big kitchen “for a warm.” +</p> +<p> +The Swiss family were the most hospitable +people in the world. Eve’s mother had a great +heap of hot cakes ready for them, and there was +coffee, too, to drive out the cold. +</p> +<p> +“We’re going to take Patrick down to the +pond with us to keep up the fires while we’re +skating,” Eve told Laura. Eve looked very +pretty in her skating rig, and she was a splendid +skater, too. “Father and Otto are somewhere +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77'></a>77</span> +down in the woods already. This cold weather +coming on marks the time for hog killing, and +some of the porkers have been running in the +woods, fattening on the mast. There is an old +mother hog that has gotten quite wild, and has +a litter of young ones with her that are hard to +catch. They may have to shoot her. So if +you hear a gun go off, don’t be alarmed.” +</p> +<p> +The hired man, who stayed with the Sitzes +all the year around, was a comical genius and +the boys knew him well. As they started on +the walk to the pond, Chet asked him: +</p> +<p> +“Do you skate yourself, Pat?” +</p> +<p> +“Sure, and it’s an illegant skater I used to +be when I was young,” declared Pat; “barrin’ +that I niver had thim murderin’ knives on me +feet, but used ter skate on a bit of board down +Donnegan’s Hill.” +</p> +<p> +“He’ll never own up that he doesn’t know a +thing,” whispered Eve to Laura and Jess, as the +boys laughed over this statement of the Irishman. +“He was planting potatoes in the upper +field, and all by himself, last spring, and a man +drove along the road, and stopped and asked him +what kind of potatoes they were. +</p> +<p> +“‘Sure, I know,’ says Patrick. +</p> +<p> +“‘Then what kind are they?’ repeated the +neighbor. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78'></a>78</span> +</p> +<p> +“‘Sure, they’re raw ones, Mr. Hurley,’ says +he, and Hurley came to the house roaring with +laughter over it. Nothing feazes Patrick.” +</p> +<p> +The long, sloping hill, under the chestnuts and +oaks, would have made a splendid coasting place; +only there was no snow on the ground. +</p> +<p> +“But when the snow <em>does</em> come,” cried Dora +Lockwood, “if the pond is still frozen over, +won’t it be a great course?” +</p> +<p> +“The ice is all right now, at any rate,” Eve +reassured them. “And there isn’t a spring hole +in the entire pond, Otto says.” +</p> +<p> +Patrick had brought an axe and, with the help +of some of the boys, soon had a big bonfire burning +on the edge of the pond. Meanwhile the +other boys helped the girls with their skate-straps, +and then got on their own skates. +</p> +<p> +The ice hadn’t a scratch on it. It was like a +great plate of glass, and so clear in places that +they could see to the bottom of the pond—where +the bottom was sandy. +</p> +<p> +All the young folk were soon on the ice, the +boys starting a hockey game at the far end, and +the girls circling around in pairs at the end +nearest to the fire. +</p> +<p> +“That’s what Mrs. Case, our physical instructor, +says we ought to learn,” said Laura, +watching the boys. +</p> +<p> +“And it’s jolly good fun, too,” cried Bobby. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79'></a>79</span> +</p> +<p> +“But suppose you turned your ankle, or fell +down and tore your dress?” suggested Nellie. +“I believe hockey on the ice is too rough.” +</p> +<p> +“No game needs to be rough,” declared +Laura. “That isn’t the spirit of athletics. +Didn’t we learn how to play basketball without +being rough?” +</p> +<p> +“Even Hessie Grimes learned that,” chuckled +Bobby. +</p> +<p> +At that moment a gun was fired back in the +thicker woods, and then out of the brush the +girls saw an animal charging directly for the +pond. Patrick saw it, too, and leaped up from +before the fire and ran toward the beast. +</p> +<p> +“It’s a big hog!” cried Bobby. +</p> +<p> +“That’s the one they want to catch,” said Eve. +“She is ugly, too, I believe.” Then she raised +her voice in warning to Patrick; “Look out, +Patrick! She is real cross.” +</p> +<p> +“Faith!” returned the Irishman, half squatting +down in the path of the charging sow. “It’s +not afraid I be of the likes of a pig. ’Tis too +many of their tails I’ve twisted in ould Ireland, +to run from wan in Ameriky——” +</p> +<p> +Just then the animal spied him and went for +Patrick, full tilt. There wasn’t time for the +Irishman to dodge; but he <em>did</em> spread his +legs, and the angry mother-hog ran between +them. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80'></a>80</span><a name='chX' id='chX'></a>CHAPTER X—THE MID-TERM EXAMINATION</h2> +<p> +The girls, who were nearest the end of the +lake, watched Patrick and the old hog in amazement. +The boys came down from the far end +with a chorus of yells and laughter. +</p> +<p> +For the Irishman, leaping up with his feet +apart, descended on the back of the charging animal, +with his face toward her tail! +</p> +<p> +The porker grunted her displeasure, and Patrick +did some grunting, too; but he was not +easily scared—nor would he be shaken off. He +locked his arms tightly around the animal’s body +and hugged her neck with his legs, so that she +could not bite him. +</p> +<p> +The creature kept up a deafening squealing, +while out of the bush rushed Dandy, the farmer’s +dog. The boys came sweeping in from the +lake to join in the sport—sport to everybody but +the pig and Patrick! But Dandy got into the +scrimmage first. +</p> +<p> +True to his instinct, the dog attempted to seize +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81'></a>81</span> +the hog by the ear, but miscalculated and caught +Patrick by the calf of the leg! +</p> +<p> +“Moses and all the children of Israel!” +bawled the Irishman. “’Tis not fair to set two +bastes onto wan! Call off yer dawg, Otto, or +it’s the death of him I’ll be when I git rid of +the hog.” +</p> +<p> +But just then the poor hog got rid of him. +She lay down and Patrick tumbled off, kicking +at the dog. Dandy seemed much surprised to +discover that he had locked his teeth on the +wrong individual! +</p> +<p> +The boys were convulsed with laughter; but +the girls were afraid that the Irishman had been +seriously hurt. And, from the squealing of the +hog, they were positive that <em>she</em> was suffering. +</p> +<p> +However, Mr. Sitz and Otto appeared, and +tied the legs of the struggling beast, and so bore +her away. They had already trapped her litter +of young ones, and Patrick limped after his +master and Otto, vowing vengeance against both +the hog and the dog. +</p> +<p> +So the boys took turns in keeping up the fire +on the shore, for although it was a clear day, +the wind continued cold and blew hard. They +were all glad to hover around the blaze, now +and then; and especially so when they ate their +luncheons. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82'></a>82</span> +</p> +<p> +Eve had prepared a great can of chocolate and +the girls had all brought well-filled lunch boxes. +Bobby was hovering about Laura’s as soon as it +was opened. +</p> +<p> +“Mammy Jinny’s made you something nice, +I know,” she said. “Dear me, I’m so hungry! +I wish I was like the Mississippi River.” +</p> +<p> +“What’s that for?” demanded Prettyman +Sweet, who overheard her. “Like the Mississippi? +Fawncy!” +</p> +<p> +“Then I’d have three mouths,” exclaimed +Bobby, immediately filling the mouth she <em>did</em> +possess. +</p> +<p> +“My word! that wouldn’t be so bad an idea, +would it?” proclaimed Purt, who was a good +deal of a gourmand himself. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t think much of this jam pie,” complained +Chet, holding up a wedge that he had +taken from his sister’s basket. +</p> +<p> +“That’s not jam pie!” exclaimed Laura. +“Whoever heard of jam pie?” +</p> +<p> +“Yep. This is it,” declared Chet. “The +crusts are jammed right together. There ain’t +enough filling.” +</p> +<p> +The wind increased toward the end of the day +and it was hard to skate against it; but the young +folk had a lot of fun sailing down the length of +the pond with their coats spread for sails. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83'></a>83</span> +</p> +<p> +“That was a great scheme you suggested about +the kite the other day, Laura,” declared Lance +Darby. “It was as good as an aeroplane.” +</p> +<p> +“What would be the matter with hitching the +kite to our scooter?” suggested Chet, who overheard +him. +</p> +<p> +The two chums owned a small iceboat which +went, on Lake Luna, by the name of “scooter.” +</p> +<p> +“Say, old man! I’ve got a better scheme than +that!” cried Lance, suddenly. +</p> +<p> +“What say?” +</p> +<p> +“Let’s combine a flying machine with an iceboat +and beat out everybody on the lake this +winter!” +</p> +<p> +“Wow!” shouted his chum. “Now, you’ve +been skating with Mother Wit and have caught +her inventive genius—it’s contagious. Gee! what +an idea!” +</p> +<p> +“That’s all right. Wait till you hear my +scheme,” said Lance, wagging his head. +</p> +<p> +“It ought to work fine,” said Bobby Hargrew, +with serious face. “All you will have to +do when you are sailing along the ice and come +to open water will be to turn a switch and jump +right into the air. Save getting your feet wet.” +</p> +<p> +“Laugh all you want to,” said Lance, threateningly. +“When we get it done you girls will +be glad enough to ride in it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84'></a>84</span> +</p> +<p> +“Not I!” cried Nellie Agnew. “I wouldn’t +ride on your old scooter as it is. And to combine +a flying machine and iceboat—whew! I +guess not.” +</p> +<p> +The boys became enthusiastic, however, and +they talked about it all the way home. Lance, +however, kept the important idea regarding +the new invention for Chet Belding’s private +ear. +</p> +<p> +Jess Morse enjoyed the outing that Saturday, +as she always enjoyed such fun when with the +Beldings; but, after all her mind was on her +play. She almost lived that play nowadays! +</p> +<p> +And, to tell the truth, she began to neglect +some of her studies in her concentration of mind +upon “The Spring Road.” Her mother praised +it warmly. +</p> +<p> +“To think that I should have a daughter who +may turn out to be a real genius!” cried Mrs. +Morse. “Although it is <em>so</em> hard to get a play +accepted by a first-class producer.” +</p> +<p> +“No. I don’t want to be a genius,” said Jess +shaking her head. “But I <em>do</em> want awfully to +win that prize.” +</p> +<p> +“Such a sordid child,” said her mother, playfully. +“I cannot imagine one’s putting such emphasis +on mere money. It isn’t genius, after all, +I fear. Our friends would call you eminently +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85'></a>85</span> +practical, I suppose,” and the irresponsible lady +sighed. +</p> +<p> +But if Jess had no impractical thoughts regarding +<em>why</em> she wished to win the prize, she +made the mistake, just the same, of letting Miss +Carrington catch her two or three times in recitation +hour. Gee Gee was down on her like a +hawk. +</p> +<p> +“Miss Morse, what does this mean?” demanded +the stern teacher, eyeing Jess with particular +grimness through her thick spectacles. +</p> +<p> +She had called the culprit to her desk just +before the noon recess and now showed her the +enormity of her offenses. +</p> +<p> +“You are falling back. There is something +on your mind beside your textbooks, that is very +sure, Miss Morse. I cannot lay it to athletics +at present, I suppose, for there seems to be a +slight let-up in the activities of you young ladies +in that direction,” and she smiled her very scornfullest +smile. Miss Carrington abhorred athletics. +</p> +<p> +“But we have another matter interfering with +the placid current of our school life. Are <em>you</em>, +Miss Morse, one of the young ladies who are +attempting to write a play?” +</p> +<p> +“Ye—yes, ma’am,” stammered Jess, blushing +to her ears. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86'></a>86</span> +</p> +<p> +“Ah! so I thought. I believe I can pick out +all these playwrights by a reference to their recitation +papers. And this afternoon comes our +mid-term examination. Let me tell you, Miss +Morse, that you must do better this afternoon, +or I shall take your case up with Mr. Sharp.” +</p> +<p> +She was folding and tying with a narrow ribbon +some papers as she spoke, and her eyes +snapped behind her glasses. +</p> +<p> +“These are the questions in my hands now, +Miss Morse,” said Gee. “And let me tell you, +they are searching ones. Be prepared, Miss—be +prepared!” +</p> +<p> +And she popped them into the top drawer on +the right-hand side of her desk. But before she +could shut down the roll top and so lock the +desk, Miss Gould appeared at the door of the +room and beckoned to Miss Carrington. The +latter rose hurriedly and departed, leaving her +desk open. And likewise leaving Jess Morse, her +hungry eyes fixed upon that drawer in which the +examination questions lay! +</p> +<p> +Just a peep at those papers might have helped +Jess a whole lot in the coming hour of trial. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87'></a>87</span><a name='chXI' id='chXI'></a>CHAPTER XI—MISSING</h2> +<p> +Alice Long, who was Short and Long’s sister, +was entertaining some of the girls when +Jess Morse came into the recreation hall with +something her little brother Tommy had said. +</p> +<p> +“Tommy’s just going to school, you know, +and he’s beginning to ask questions. I guess he +stumps his teachers in the primary grade. He +heard the arithmetic class reciting and learned +that only things of the same denomination can +be subtracted from each other. +</p> +<p> +“‘Now, you know that ain’t so, Alice,’ says +he to me. ‘For, can’t you take four quarts of +milk from three cows?’” +</p> +<p> +Jess didn’t feel like laughing; what was coming +after recess troubled her. She felt a certainty +that she would fail, and she could not +get over it. +</p> +<p> +“Besides,” she said to herself, “Gee Gee will +put the hardest questions on the list to me—I +just know she will.” +</p> +<p> +“What’s the matter, Jess?” asked Laura, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88'></a>88</span> +coming up to her and squeezing her arm. +“Something is troubling you, honey.” +</p> +<p> +“And it will trouble you after recess,” replied +Jess, mournfully. +</p> +<p> +“The old exams?” +</p> +<p> +“Uh-huh!” +</p> +<p> +“Afraid, are you?” laughed Mother Wit. +</p> +<p> +“I’m just scared to death. And Gee Gee +knows I’m not prepared and she will be down on +me like a hawk.” +</p> +<p> +“Maybe not.” +</p> +<p> +“She knows I am weak. She just told me so, +and she showed me the papers and said there +were awfully hard questions in them. She just +delights in catching us girls. And she says all +of us who are trying for the prize are neglecting +our regular work.” +</p> +<p> +“I expect we are, Jess,” admitted Laura. +“Oh, dear! it’s not easy to write a play, is it?” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know,” said Jess, hesitatingly. “I’m +not sure that I am writing a regular play. But +I’m writing something!” +</p> +<p> +“What does your mother say about it?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, of course she praises it. She would.” +</p> +<p> +“I bet you win the prize, Jess!” exclaimed +Laura. +</p> +<p> +“No such luck. And, anyway, I will take no +prize this afternoon. Gee Gee threatens to take +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89'></a>89</span> +my standing up with Mr. Sharp if I don’t do +well, too.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, don’t worry, dear. Perhaps you will +come out all right.” +</p> +<p> +Bobby came swinging along and bumped into +them. “Oh, hullo!” exclaimed she. “Say! +how do you pronounce ‘s-t-i-n-g-y’? Heh?” +</p> +<p> +“Man or wasp?” returned Mother Wit, +quickly. +</p> +<p> +Jess laughed. “You can’t catch Laura with +your stale jokes, Bobby,” she gibed. +</p> +<p> +“That’s all right; I asked for information. +But you girls don’t know anything. You’re +writing plays. That’s enough to give you softening +of the brain. The folks that know it all +are the squabs,” chuckled Bobby, referring to +the freshman class. “What do you suppose one +of them sprang this morning?” +</p> +<p> +“I haven’t the least idea,” spoke Laura. +</p> +<p> +“Why, she was asked to define the difference +between instinct and intelligence, and she said: +‘Instinct knows everything needed without learning +it; but human beings have reason, so we have +to study ourselves half blind to keep from being +perfect fools!’ Now, what do you know about +that?” +</p> +<p> +“I believe that child was right,” sighed Jess. +“If I only had instinct I wouldn’t have to worry +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90'></a>90</span> +about the questions Gee Gee is going to give us +this afternoon.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, say not so!” gasped Bobby, rolling her +eyes and putting up both hands. “I am trying +to forget about those exams——There’s the +bell! Back to the mines!” she groaned, and +rushed to take her place in the line. +</p> +<p> +The Junior class crowded into Miss Carrington’s +room and took their seats. The examination +covered several of the more important +studies. The teacher took her place, adjusted +the thick glasses she always wore, and looked +sternly over the room. +</p> +<p> +“Young ladies,” she said, in her most severe +manner, “I hope you are all prepared for the +review. But I doubt it—I seriously doubt it. +Some of you have been falling behind of late in +a most astonishing manner, and I fear for your +standing—I fear for it.” +</p> +<p> +This manner of approaching the exam, was, +of course, very soothing to the nervous girls; +but it was Gee Gee’s way and they should all +have been used to it by this time. She had +opened the drawer of her desk—the top right-hand +drawer—and was fumbling in it. +</p> +<p> +Pretty soon she gave her entire attention to +sorting the papers in this drawer, which seemed +to be pretty full. As the moments passed, her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91'></a>91</span> +manner betrayed the fact that the teacher was +much disturbed. +</p> +<p> +“Oh! I hope she’s lost ’em!” exclaimed the +wicked Bobby Hargrew. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t,” returned the girl she spoke to. +“We’d suffer for it.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I got my fingers crossed!” chuckled +Bobby. “She can’t accuse me. I wasn’t near +her old desk.” +</p> +<p> +“Wasn’t it locked?” whispered another of +the waiting girls. +</p> +<p> +Miss Carrington heard the bustle in the class, +so she sat up and looked out over the room +with asperity. +</p> +<p> +“I want to know what this means, girls,” she +said, snappily. “My desk was left open by +chance while I was out of the room for perhaps +ten minutes. The examination papers were in +this drawer. Now I cannot find them. Has +somebody done this for a joke?” and she looked +hard in Bobby’s direction. +</p> +<p> +“Look out, Bob,” warned one of her mates; +“crossing your fingers isn’t going to save +you.” +</p> +<p> +But suddenly, even while she was speaking, +Miss Carrington seemed to be stabbed by a +thought. She started to her feet and turned her +gaze upon the part of the room in which Josephine +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92'></a>92</span> +Morse sat. And Jess’s face was aflame! +</p> +<p> +“Miss Morse!” +</p> +<p> +Gee Gee’s voice was never of a pleasing quality. +Now it startled every girl in the room. Jess +slowly arose, and she clung to the corner of her +desk a moment for support. +</p> +<p> +“Do you remember seeing me put those question +papers into this drawer? <em>Do</em> you?” demanded +the teacher. +</p> +<p> +“Ye—yes, ma’am,” replied Jess. +</p> +<p> +“You were standing right here at my desk?” +</p> +<p> +Jess nodded, while the whole class watched +her now paling face. Many of the girls looked +amazed; some few looked angry. Laura Belding’s +eyes fairly blazed and she half rose from +her seat. +</p> +<p> +“Sit down, young ladies!” commanded Miss +Carrington, who was quick to see these suggestive +actions on the part of the class. “Come +here to me, Miss Morse.” +</p> +<p> +Jess walked up the aisle. After that first moment +her strength came back and she held her +head up and stared straight into the face of the +teacher. The tears that had sprung to her eyes +she winked back. +</p> +<p> +“I had called you to my desk, Miss Morse,” +said Gee Gee, in a low voice, and staring hard +at the girl, “and had pointed out to you that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93'></a>93</span> +this particular examination would be a trying +one. Is that not a fact?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, ma’am,” admitted Jess. +</p> +<p> +“Miss Gould called me and I hastily thrust +the papers, which I particularly told you were +the question papers, into this drawer. Did I +not?” +</p> +<p> +“You did.” +</p> +<p> +“And then I hurried out of the room without +locking the drawer—without pulling down the +roll top of the desk, indeed. Is that not so, +Miss Morse?” +</p> +<p> +“It is,” said Jess, getting better control of +her voice now. +</p> +<p> +“And you were left standing here. The +other girls were gone. Now, Miss Morse, I +freely admit that I am culpable in leaving such +important papers in the way. I should have +locked them up. I presume the temptation was +great——” +</p> +<p> +“I beg your pardon, Miss Carrington!” exclaimed +the girl, more indignant than frightened +now. “You are accusing me without reason. +I would not do such a thing——” +</p> +<p> +“Not ordinarily, perhaps,” interposed Miss +Carrington. “But it all came to you in a moment, +I presume. And you did not have time to +put them back.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94'></a>94</span> +</p> +<p> +This she had said in a low voice, so that nobody +but Jess heard her. But the girl’s voice +rose higher as she grew hysterical. +</p> +<p> +“Miss Carrington, you are unfair! I never +touched them!” +</p> +<p> +“You must admit, Miss Morse, that circumstances +are very much against you,” declared +the teacher. +</p> +<p> +“I admit nothing of the kind. A dozen people +might have been in the room while you were +out and the desk was open. Ten minutes is a +long time.” +</p> +<p> +“You seem to have thought out your defense +very well, Miss Morse,” said Gee Gee, sternly. +“But it will not do. It is too serious a matter +to overlook. I shall send for Mr. Sharp,” and +she touched the button which rang the bell in +the principal’s office. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95'></a>95</span><a name='chXII' id='chXII'></a>CHAPTER XII—COUNSEL FOR THE DEFENSE</h2> +<p> +“Come to order!” commanded Miss Carrington, +rapping on her desk with a hard knuckle. +</p> +<p> +She quickly gave the class in general a task +and sent Jess to her seat. +</p> +<p> +“I will speak with you later, young lady,” she +said, in her most scornful way. +</p> +<p> +Jess’s eyes were almost blinded by tears when +she went back to her seat. But they were angry +tears. The unkind suspicion and accusation of +the teacher cut deeply into the girl’s soul. She +could see some of the girls looking at her askance—girls +like Hester Grimes and Lily Pendleton, +and their set. Of course, they had not heard all +that Miss Carrington said; but they could easily +suspect. And the whole class knew that the +trouble was over the disappearance of the papers +for the review. +</p> +<p> +Bobby wickedly whispered to her neighbor +that she hoped the papers wouldn’t ever be +found. But that would not help Jess Morse out +of trouble. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96'></a>96</span> +</p> +<p> +To Jess herself, hiding her face behind an +open book, the printed page of which was a mere +blur before her eyes, it seemed as though this +trouble would overwhelm her. It was worse +than the poverty she and her mother had to face. +It was worse than having no party dress fit to +be seen in. It was worse than being refused +credit at Mr. Closewick’s grocery store. It was +worse than having old Mr. Chumley hound them +for the rent +</p> +<p> +Reviewing the whole affair more calmly, Jess +could understand that Miss Carrington would +consider her guilty—if she could bring herself +to think any girl of Central High would do such +a thing. +</p> +<p> +Jess sat there, dumb, unable to work, unable +to concentrate her mind on anything but the horribly +unjust accusation of her teacher. How she +disliked Gee Gee! +</p> +<p> +The other girls were not particularly devoted to +the task set them for the moment, either. Laura +did not sit very near her chum in this room. +She asked permission to speak with Jess and +Miss Carrington said: +</p> +<p> +“No, Miss Belding; sit down!” and she said +it in her very grimmest way. Usually the teacher +was very lenient with Mother Wit, for of all her +pupils Laura gave her the least trouble. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97'></a>97</span> +</p> +<p> +A feeling of expectancy controlled the whole +roomful of girls. It came to a crisis—every girl +jumped!—when the door opened and Mr. Sharp +walked in. +</p> +<p> +The principal of Central High seldom troubled +the girls’ class rooms with his presence. When +he addressed the young ladies it was usually <em>en +masse</em>. He trusted Miss Carrington, almost entirely, +in the management of the girls. +</p> +<p> +His rosy cheeks shone and his eyes twinkled +through his glasses as he walked quickly to the +platform and sat down beside Gee Gee at her +table, which faced the girls, whereas her roll-top +desk was at the rear of the platform, against the +wall of the room. +</p> +<p> +Principal and teacher talked in low voices for +some moments. Mr. Sharp cast no confusing +glances about the room. He ignored the girls, +as though his entire business was with their +teacher. +</p> +<p> +At length he looked around, smiling as usual, +Mr. Sharp was a pleasant and fair-minded man +and the girls all liked him. He had their undivided +attention in a moment, without the rapping +of Miss Carrington’s hard knuckle on the table +top. Bobby said that that knuckle of Gee Gee’s +middle finger had been abnormally developed by +continued bringing the class to order. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98'></a>98</span> +</p> +<p> +“Young ladies!” said Gee Gee, snappily. +“Mr. Sharp will speak to you.” +</p> +<p> +The principal looked just a little annoyed—just +a little; and for only the moment while he +was rising to speak. He never liked to hear +his pupils treated like culprits. He usually +treated them at assembly with elaborate politeness +if he had to criticise, and with perfect good-fellowship +if praise was in order. This little +scene staged by Miss Carrington grated on him. +</p> +<p> +“Our good Miss Carrington,” said he, softly, +“has sustained a loss. Important papers have +been mislaid, we will say.” +</p> +<p> +He raised his hand quickly when Miss Carrington +would have spoken, and she was wise enough +to let him go on in his own way. +</p> +<p> +“Now, the question is: How have the papers +been lost, and where are they at the present moment? +It is a problem—in deduction, we will +say. We must all partake of the character of +some famous detective. It used to be a rule in +our family when I was a boy that, if a thing +were lost, it was wisest to look for it in the most +unlikely places first. I can remember once, when +father lost a horse, that mother insisted in shaking +out all the hens’ nests and giving them new +nests. But father never <em>did</em> find that horse.” +</p> +<p> +The girls had begun to smile now; and some +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99'></a>99</span> +of them giggled. Miss Carrington looked as +she usually did when Mr. Sharp joked—it pained +her and set her teeth on edge. Bobby declared +she looked as though she had bitten into a green +persimmon. +</p> +<p> +“Joking aside, however,” continued the principal. +“This loss is a serious matter. Suppose +you young ladies suggest how the question +papers to be used in this mid-term examination +have been whisked out of this drawer of Miss +Carrington’s desk, and hidden elsewhere? Can +it be possible that it is the prank of a pixy? Of +course, all of you young ladies are too serious-minded +to do such a thing yourselves.” +</p> +<p> +There was a general laugh, then, and the strain +of the last few minutes began to be relieved. +Somehow, even Jess Morse felt better. +</p> +<p> +“To suggest that anybody in this class—the +Junior class of Central High—would deliberately +misappropriate these questions is beyond imagination,” +declared Mr. Sharp, with sudden gravity. +“It is a mistake. The mistake is explainable. +Has anyone a suggestion to make?” +</p> +<p> +It was Laura Belding who broke the silence. +She asked her question very modestly, but her +cheeks were flushed, and she was evidently indignant. +</p> +<p> +“Is—is it positive that the papers were put in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100'></a>100</span> +that top drawer that Miss Carrington now has +open?” +</p> +<p> +“Ask Miss Morse!” snapped the teacher, before +Mr. Sharp could reply. +</p> +<p> +“We will. Nothing like corroboration,” said +the principal, with a bow and smile. “Miss +Morse?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said Jess, in a low voice, rising. +“I saw her put them there. She tied them into +a bundle by themselves.” +</p> +<p> +“You are observant, Miss Morse,” said the +principal, smiling again. “Thank you. Now, +Miss Belding?” for Laura was still standing. +</p> +<p> +“I notice that the drawer is very full,” said +Laura, quietly. “May I come upon the platform +and look at it?” +</p> +<p> +“Certainly,” responded Mr. Sharp; but Miss +Carrington flushed again, and exclaimed: +</p> +<p> +“I have searched that drawer thoroughly. +The papers are not there.” +</p> +<p> +Again Mr. Sharp made a little deprecatory +gesture, “Come forward, Miss Belding,” he +said. +</p> +<p> +Mother Wit gave her chum a single reassuring +glance. Somehow, without reason, that look +comforted Jess. She still stood beside her desk, +too anxious to sit down again, while Laura walked +quietly forward. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101'></a>101</span> +</p> +<p> +“That drawer is very full, Mr. Sharp,” she +said, composedly enough. “May I take it +out?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I’ve had it out and felt behind it,” urged +Miss Carrington, all of a flutter now. +</p> +<p> +“Maybe Miss Belding can show us something +we did not know,” said the principal, in his +bantering way. It had been he who gave Laura +her nickname, and he thought a great deal of +the girl. He knew that she had some serious +intention or she would not have come forward. +</p> +<p> +Laura pulled out the over-full drawer and set +it down upon the carpet. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, it isn’t there,” said Miss Carrington. +“The packet was tied with a mauve ribbon—a +narrow ribbon——” +</p> +<p> +Laura pulled out the next drawer. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, that’s quite useless,” exclaimed the lady +teacher. “And to have everything disarranged +in this way——” +</p> +<p> +“We must give the counsel for the defense +every opportunity, Miss Carrington,” said the +principal softly. +</p> +<p> +Laura drew out the third drawer—just glancing +at the top layer of papers—and then the +fourth and last. No bundle tied with a mauve +ribbon appeared. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102'></a>102</span> +</p> +<p> +“Not there!” exclaimed Gee Gee, and was +there a spice of satisfaction in her voice? +</p> +<p> +But Laura dropped upon her knees, ran her +arm to the shoulder into the aperture where the +last drawer came out, and drew forth the missing +packet of papers, which lay crowded back upon +the carpet. +</p> +<p> +“There!” said Mr. Sharp, quite in a matter-of-fact +tone, “I have suggested to the Board of +Education more than once that all these old unsanitary +desks should be done away with. The +only roll-top desk fit to use in the schools are +those which stand upon feet, the bottom of the +lower drawer being a few inches from the floor. +Thank you, Miss Belding! We will now go on +with the afternoon session.” +</p> +<p> +But he rested his hand for a moment upon +Laura’s shoulder, as she was about to step down +after returning the drawers to their places in the +desk. +</p> +<p> +“The counsel for the defense did very well,” +he whispered, and then left the room as quietly +as he had entered it. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Sharp had relieved Miss Carrington of the +embarrassment of his presence; but she certainly +was troubled by the untoward incident. Laura +returned to her seat by the way of Jess’s and +boldly squeezed her hand. And Jess thanked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103'></a>103</span> +her, in her heart. The rebound from being suspected +of the loss of the papers gave her such +relief that the coming examination seemed much +less terrible. Or perhaps, Miss Carrington was, +after all, a little easy on her that afternoon; for +Jess Morse came through the grilling with surprisingly +high marks. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104'></a>104</span><a name='chXIII' id='chXIII'></a>CHAPTER XIII—A WAY IS OPENED</h2> +<p> +But Jess had had ample warning. There +would be something important heard from Gee +Gee if she neglected the regular work of her +classes to devote time and thought to that wonderful +play. +</p> +<p> +It was hard to keep her mind off a task that +had so gripped her heart and mind. “The +Spring Road” was in her thought almost continually. +She even dreamed about it at night. +And it was a veritable wrench to get her mind +off the idyl of youth she was writing to set it +upon the grim realities of Latin, English, the +higher mathematics, and other school tasks. +</p> +<p> +It seemed to Jess Morse as though no other +piece of writing could ever be so enthralling as +this she had undertaken. When she had begun +it it was with fear and trembling. The two hundred +dollar prize was what spurred her to the +task. But now, she fairly loved it! +</p> +<p> +“The Spring Road” was a fantasy—a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105'></a>105</span> +comedy—a love story; it was all three in one, and she +was writing it with the limitations of those who +would probably play it, in mind. +</p> +<p> +Many of the contestants for Mrs. Kerrick’s +prize thought not at all about the players; but +already in Jess’s mind was fixed who, of her +schoolmates, would best fit into the parts. There +was a character who could not gain much sympathy +from the audience, but who could wear +beautiful clothes—that would just suit Lily Pendleton. +</p> +<p> +And for the Spring Spirits, in the allegory, +<em>Budding Tree</em> and <em>Laughing Brook</em>, who could +be better fitted than Dora and Dorothy Lockwood? +While the heroine of the story must be +beautiful Kate Protest, of the Senior class, and +the <em>Truant Lover</em> the sparkling Launcelot Darby. +</p> +<p> +At home matters were not going as smoothly +as Jess had hoped, after her mother obtained +regular work upon the Centerport <em>Courier</em>. It +was nice to get the money regularly for that +work; but somehow Mrs. Morse could not see +the wisdom of “paying as you go.” Jess could +not always take cash with her when she went to +the stores; and if her mother chanced to be out +herself and saw something particularly nice that +Jess was likely to fancy, she ordered it in without +regard to how it was to be paid for. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106'></a>106</span> +</p> +<p> +But that had always been Mrs. Morse’s way. +She was over-generous with Jess while she, herself, +went with shabby gloves and mended shoes. +But any sensible plan of retrenchment in their +household expenses had never been evolved in +her mind. +</p> +<p> +How they were to meet the added burden of +the January rent never seemed to trouble her. +Jess only spoke of it once during that first fortnight +in December; then it disturbed her mother +so much that the lamp of genius refused to burn +for a whole day, and, with a sigh, the girl gave +over discussing the point. +</p> +<p> +Checks for her mother’s stories came few and +far between these days, Jess feared that they +would soon owe Mr. Hargrew as large a bill as +they had at Mr. Closewick’s store. And as for +a new dress—well, the idea of that was as far +in the offing as ever. +</p> +<p> +All the girls she knew well were so busy scribbling +away at their prize plays that, had Jess been +free herself out of school hours, she would have +been unable to find any of her usual companions +at leisure. +</p> +<p> +Even Chet Belding, who was always at her +beck and call, was terribly busy these days. He +and Lance Darby were hard at work upon some +wonderful sort of ice craft they were building +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107'></a>107</span> +down in Monson’s old boathouse, near the Girls’ +Branch Athletic League field and boathouse. +</p> +<p> +Each day saw the wintry winds grow colder, +and soon the ice upon Lake Luna was thick +enough to bear. Some of the more reckless boys +had skated out to the steamboat channel, which +had been sawed from the open water in the middle +of the lake, so that the freight boats from +Lumberport and Keyport could get to their docks. +</p> +<p> +Ice of such thickness on Lake Luna at this +early date, however, surprised even that apocryphal +person, “the oldest inhabitant.” And Jess +Morse would have been glad of a new coat, or the +set of furs that her mother had talked about. +When she started for school some mornings, the +first blast of keen air off the lake seemed to cut +through her like a knife. She wouldn’t have had +her mother know how really thin her apparel +seemed for anything in the world. +</p> +<p> +And, very wisely, she kept up her gym. work +faithfully. A few minutes’ vigorous exercise +after the regular day’s work at school was finished +put her in a glow, made her breathe more +deeply and “put a shine in her eyes,” as Bobby +expressed it. +</p> +<p> +“There isn’t a girl in the class who doesn’t +need brisking up in the gym. this weather—unless +it’s Eve Sitz,” confided Bobby to Laura and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108'></a>108</span> +Jess as they left the gymnasium building together +one afternoon. “Girls are just like cats; they +all like to mope around the register or the steam +radiator in cold weather. Why, Lil Pendleton +wears a lace shawl over her shoulders in the +house, and hangs over the gas-log like an old +woman. We all ought to get back into basketball—and +at the rowing machines—again. Once +a week on the court isn’t enough to keep us +alive.” +</p> +<p> +“If you knew the number of things Eve Sitz +does, in and out of doors, before she comes to +school in the morning, and after she gets home +again, you wouldn’t wonder that she keeps her +color, and is so brisk and strong,” laughed Laura. +</p> +<p> +“I expect she is a busy little bee,” admitted +Bobby. +</p> +<p> +“She helps milk the cows night and morning——” +</p> +<p> +“There!” interrupted the irrepressible Bobby. +“That’s what I’ve always intended to ask Eve; +but I forget it.” +</p> +<p> +“What’s that?” asked Jess. +</p> +<p> +“Why, when you have finished milking a cow, +how do you turn the milk off?” +</p> +<p> +“Isn’t she the ridiculous girl?” chuckled +Laura, as Bobby ran up the side street toward +her own door. Then Mother Wit turned on her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109'></a>109</span> +chum, with her brisk, bird-like way: “How’s +the play going, Jess?” +</p> +<p> +“I’m—I’m afraid it’s finished,” said her chum, +slowly. +</p> +<p> +“‘Afraid!’” repeated Laura, in amazement. +</p> +<p> +“Yes. As far as I can finish it.” +</p> +<p> +“But you’re not going to give it up in the +middle?” cried Laura. +</p> +<p> +“No. It is complete. Only it doesn’t satisfy +me,” returned Jess, shaking her head. “And it +never will.” +</p> +<p> +“Ah! there speaks real genius!” declared +Laura, smiling. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you believe it,” was her friend’s hasty +reply. “I just don’t know enough to write it +well enough to suit me.” +</p> +<p> +“Modesty!” +</p> +<p> +“Sense,” corrected Jess, laughing a little dolefully. +“How are you getting along?” +</p> +<p> +“Just as Mr. Sharp said, I am no female +Shakespeare,” said Laura. “But I have hopes +that maybe my play isn’t so bad.” +</p> +<p> +Jess was not sanguine about “The Spring +Road,” however. She knew that it might be +written so much better, if one only knew how! +</p> +<p> +And while they discussed the play Jess heard +somebody calling her by name. Laura grabbed +her arm and pointed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110'></a>110</span> +</p> +<p> +“Isn’t that Mrs. Prentice—the very rich Mrs. +Prentice—in her electric runabout? And, I declare, +Jess! she’s calling to you.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes. I know her; she wants me,” said Jess +breathlessly, and she ran across the street to +where the electric car was standing beside the +curb. +</p> +<p> +“I want you, child,” said the lady, with decision. +“Can you excuse yourself to your +friend?” +</p> +<p> +Jess waved her hand to Laura, and called: +</p> +<p> +“I’ll be up after supper, dear.” +</p> +<p> +Laura nodded, and smiled, and went on; but +she was evidently puzzled as she turned to gaze +after the runabout as it moved off swiftly with +her chum beside the lady in the magnificent furs. +</p> +<p> +“And how are you and your mother getting +along?” asked Mrs. Prentice, as soon as the +car had started. +</p> +<p> +“Why—why about as usual, Mrs. Prentice,” +stammered Jess, who was much puzzled as to +why the lady should want her to take this ride. +“Only mother is regularly employed by Mr. +Prentice, and is very grateful for the work—as +you must know, ma’am.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, don’t speak of that,” said Mrs. Prentice, +laughing. “I fancy that Pat is getting full measure +for his money; he usually does. But tell me, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111'></a>111</span> +child, are you going to remain in that cottage +of Mr. Chumley’s?” +</p> +<p> +“Why—I really don’t know, Mrs. Prentice. +There seems no other place to go——” +</p> +<p> +“He is horribly overcharging you, child,” said +the lady, quickly. +</p> +<p> +“I know. But there are so few small places +in decent neighborhoods—mother says she +doesn’t know what to do about it.” +</p> +<p> +“I fancy, Jessica——Is that your name?” +</p> +<p> +“Josephine, Mrs. Prentice; only they all call +me Jess.” +</p> +<p> +“Very well—Jess. Sounds a good practical +name—and you are a practical girl; I can see +that. Now, Jess, I fancy you have to do something +yourself toward moving, to get your mother +started, eh?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! but I don’t know where to go——” +</p> +<p> +The car began to slow down. Mrs. Prentice +had run into a quiet side street, not two blocks +from the cottage at the foot of Whiffle Street. +</p> +<p> +“See here,” said the lady, stopping the motor +and preparing to alight. “I want you to see this +little dove-cote—that’s what I have always called +it. It is set behind a grassy front yard and there +is a little garden at the back. You’ll love it +in spring and summer.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, but Mrs. Prentice, is it empty?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112'></a>112</span> +</p> +<p> +“It’s too empty. That’s the trouble. The +tenant I had left unexpectedly.” She neglected +to say that she had paid the tenant a certain sum +to leave the cottage and move into another house. +“I don’t want the house empty during the cold +weather. I have paid to have a fire kept up in +the furnace for a week so that the pipes would +not freeze. Come in.” +</p> +<p> +It was a dear little cottage; Jess Morse was +delighted with it. And so much more convenient +than Mr. Chumley’s. Besides, there was a good +reason why the owner paid to have the fires kept +up all this week of cold weather. Every room +was fresh with paint and paper—the smell of +varnish was still plain. It was really a delightful +little place and the furniture at home would +fit into the several rooms so nicely! +</p> +<p> +Jess Morse saw all this at once. She was delighted——And +two dollars less a month than +the cottage in which they had lived so long! +</p> +<p> +“It is a way opened, Mrs. Prentice!” she murmured. +“Better than we could ever expect. I +thank you from the very bottom of my heart!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113'></a>113</span><a name='chXIV' id='chXIV'></a>CHAPTER XIV—IN SUSPENSE</h2> +<p> +But when Jess got home—and Mrs. Prentice +took her there in the car, but would not come in +herself—she had hard work to satisfy her mother +that such a change as this opportunity suggested +was a good one for them to make. In short, +Mrs. Morse did not enthuse. +</p> +<p> +“Just think of the trouble of it all,” she sighed. +“My dear Jess, we have been here so long——” +</p> +<p> +“But Mr. Chumley doesn’t want us any longer,” +interposed Jess. +</p> +<p> +“Tut, tut! that is only the old gentleman’s +way. He really will not raise our rent, do you +think?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, Mother!” expostulated the girl, “he +has already raised it and threatened to put us out +if we don’t find the increased three dollars on +the first.” +</p> +<p> +“I am afraid you were not politic enough,” +said her mother. +</p> +<p> +“One cannot be politic with Mr. Chumley. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114'></a>114</span> +He wants his house for another tenant; he has +as good as said so. And <em>do</em> come and see Mrs. +Prentice’s little cottage. It is a <em>love</em>.” +</p> +<p> +Even after she had seen it, however, Mrs. +Morse was doubtful. She shrank from the +change. +</p> +<p> +“And think of the expense of moving,” she +declared. +</p> +<p> +“But the two dollars less we pay a month will +soon pay for <em>that</em>,” said Jess, eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“Well—er—perhaps,” admitted her mother, +doubtfully. +</p> +<p> +Jess had to do it all, however. She had to attend +to every detail of the change. Fortunately +her mother received a check of some size and the +daughter obtained a part of it for current expenses. +She hired a truckman, packed most of +their possessions after school hours, and saw to +the setting up of their goods and chattels in +the new home. +</p> +<p> +There were several tons of furnace coal in the +cellar of the new home. In the old cottage there +had been no heater. Mrs. Prentice told Jess that +she could pay for the coal a little at a time, and +the girl gladly availed herself of this advantage. +</p> +<p> +For the winter promised to be a severe one. +Since frost had set in in earnest there had been +no let-up. Jess and her mother moved during +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115'></a>115</span> +the short holiday vacation. The day school +closed; the contestants for the prize offered by +Mrs. Kerrick handed in their plays. The announcement +of the successful one would be after +the intermission—on the first Monday of the +New Year. +</p> +<p> +When the Morses really came to remove their +goods from the house in which they had lived so +long, old Mr. Chumley would have liked to get +out an injunction against their doing so. +</p> +<p> +“I never thought you’d do it, Widder!” he +croaked, having hurried over the minute he heard +the moving man was at the door. “Why—why +mebbe we could have split the difference. P’r’aps +three dollars a month more was a leetle steep.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, dear me!” sighed Mrs. Morse. “Really, +Mr. Chumley, this is Jess’s doings. She thinks +the change will be better for us——” +</p> +<p> +“Now then! I wouldn’t let no young’un snap +me like I was the end of a whip!” cried the old +man. “You bundle your things back into the +house, and we’ll call it only a one-fifty raise.” +</p> +<p> +But here Jess interfered. “Are you prepared +to take two dollars off the rent, instead of adding +any, and will you make the repairs we have been +asking for all this year, Mr. Chumley?” she demanded, +briskly. +</p> +<p> +“My goodness me! I can’t. It ain’t possible. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116'></a>116</span> +The property don’t bring me enough as it is.” +</p> +<p> +“Then there’s no use talking to us,” said Jess, +drawing her arm through her mother’s. “Mrs. +Prentice’s house is all freshly done over, and has +a heater, which this house hasn’t, and everything +is in spick and span order.” +</p> +<p> +“That Mrs. Prentice! I might ha’ knowed +it!” cackled Mr. Chumley. “And she was for +having you arrested for stealing once.” +</p> +<p> +This was the very first Mrs. Morse had heard +about the night Jess had had her queer experience, +and she had to be told all about it now. +She saw at once that her own regular work for +the <em>Courier</em> arose out of her daughter’s acquaintance +with the wealthy Mrs. Prentice. +</p> +<p> +“And she is one of the leaders in our Hill +society!” gasped the poor lady. “I declare! I +shall never be able to face her again—although +I have only a bowing acquaintance with her. She +will very well know who is putting all the society +items into the paper.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, it’s honest,” said Jess, stubbornly. +</p> +<p> +“My goodness me! How practical you are, +Jess,” exclaimed her mother. “Isn’t anything +but bread-and-butter, and such things, appealing +to you in life, child?” +</p> +<p> +Jess did not answer. She was naturally as +frivolous of mind as any other girl of her age, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117'></a>117</span> +only the happenings in their domestic life of +the last few weeks had made her far more +thoughtful. +</p> +<p> +And really, the little dove-cote, as Mrs. Prentice +had called their new home, was a veritable +love of a place! Mrs. Morse had to admit herself +that it was a great improvement over the +house where they had lived so long. +</p> +<p> +As it was vacation week, she let Jess go right +ahead to settle things while she stuck to the typewriter. +And Jess was glad to have plenty to occupy +her mind. The suspense of waiting for the +committee to decide upon the winner of the prize +was hard to endure indeed. +</p> +<p> +One evening, however, Chet came after her, +for there was a big moonlight skating party on +Lake Luna. By this time people who had horses +and sleighs had made quite a trotting course +from Centerport to Keyport in one direction, and +from Centerport to Lumberport at the other end +of the lake. +</p> +<p> +There were certain motor enthusiasts, too, who +had rigged their cars so that they would travel +on the ice; but Chet Belding and Lance Darby +had beaten them all. The trotting course hugged +the shore, the skaters followed the same course, +but farther out on the ice, and beyond, toward +the middle of the lake, the iceboats had free +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118'></a>118</span> +swing. And there were several very fast “scooters” +and the like upon Lake Luna. +</p> +<p> +But Laura’s brother and his chum declared +that “they’d got ’em all beat to a stiff froth!” +And on this night they produced the finished product +of their joint work for the last several +weeks. +</p> +<p> +“What do we call it? The <em>Blue Streak!</em>” +declared Chet. “And that’s the way she travels. +We tried her out this morning and——Well, +you girls will admit that you never traveled fast +before.” +</p> +<p> +“My goodness me, Laura! Do you think it +is safe for us to venture with them?” demanded +Jess. +</p> +<p> +“If Chet brings me home in pieces he knows +what mother will do to him,” returned her chum, +laughing. +</p> +<p> +The novel boat certainly attracted considerable +attention when the boys ran it out of the old +boathouse and pushed it far away from the skating +course. It combined the principles of an aircraft +with runners of the familiar iceboat. +</p> +<p> +“Just call it an aero-iceyacht, and let it go at +that,” said Chet. “That hits it near enough.” +</p> +<p> +“And it really can sail in the air or on the ice—like +a hydroplane?” demanded Jess. +</p> +<p> +“You’ll think so,” Chet assured her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119'></a>119</span> +</p> +<p> +The boat was driven by a propeller similar to +those on aeroplanes; and this propeller was fastened +to the crossbeam on which were the two forward +runners—somewhat similar to the mast on +the ordinary lake iceboat. The body and rudder +plank, at right angles to this crossbeam, supported +the two-cylinder gasoline engine, which +Chet bought at the motor repair shop of Mr. +Purcell. +</p> +<p> +It was a fourteen-horse-power engine, water-cooled, +and geared with a chain to the propeller. +</p> +<p> +“We tried a belt first,” said Lance; “but the +blamed thing slipped so that old Chet evolved the +chain-gear idea. Great, eh?” +</p> +<p> +“How can we tell till we see it work?” demanded +Laura. +</p> +<p> +“And you don’t have to lie down for ‘low +bridge’ when the boom goes over on this iceyacht!” +cried Jess, enthusiastically. “We can +sit up.” +</p> +<p> +“All the time,” agreed Lance. +</p> +<p> +“I think it’s simply great!” declared Laura. +</p> +<p> +“All because you, Mother Wit, suggested using +the kite for motive power that day,” said her +brother, admiringly. “That gave us the idea. +If a kite would give motive power to a man skating, +why not use a more up-to-date air-power +scheme on the ice?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120'></a>120</span> +</p> +<p> +“And it worked!” shouted Lance. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, hurry!” cried Jess. “I’m crazy to see +how it sails.” +</p> +<p> +The boys placed the girls amidships, and +showed them how to cling to the straps on either +side. Lance took his place on the crossbeam—to +act as weight on either end if such balance +was needed; Chet took the tiller. +</p> +<p> +“Open her up!” the latter commanded his +chum. “Only quarter round with the switch +when the engine gets her stroke. Now, careful! +Hang on, girls!” +</p> +<p> +The next moment the engine began to throb +regularly, and the blades of the propeller whirled. +In half a minute they had gained such momentum +that the eye could not distinguish the blades +themselves—they simply made a blur in the +moonlight. +</p> +<p> +The craft lunged ahead. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121'></a>121</span><a name='chXV' id='chXV'></a>CHAPTER XV—A MILE A MINUTE</h2> +<p> +The moon, hanging low upon the horizon, +was young but brilliant. The air was so keen +and clear that without the help of the moonlight +it seemed as though the stars must have flooded +the lake with white light. +</p> +<p> +Nearer the southern shore the jingle of sleigh-bells +and the laughter and shouting of the skaters +marked the revelers who gave a free course to +the iceboats out here nearer the open water. +For both east and west of Cavern Island, which +lay in the middle of Lake Luna, opposite Centerport, +the ice was either unsafe, or there were long +stretches of open water. The freight boats up +and down the lake kept this channel open. +</p> +<p> +But there was a wide and safer course before +the flying aero-iceboat. And soon she was moving +so fast that the girls heard nothing but the +shriek of the wind rushing by. +</p> +<p> +Here and there before them lanterns glowed +like huge fireflies. These lights were in the rigging +of several ice-yachts. Chet and Lance had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122'></a>122</span> +a pair of automobile searchlights rigged forward +on their own boat. +</p> +<p> +Another yacht had started from the old boathouse +at about the time our friends and their +new-fangled craft got under way. There were +girls aboard it, too; but at first the Beldings and +Jess and Lance did not recognize the other party. +</p> +<p> +The strange yacht was distinguished, however, +by a red and green lamp. As Chet had been slow +in starting, the other boat got ahead. But now, +although the wind was fair and the other yacht +traveled splendidly, the aero-iceboat bore down +upon it, beating it out and leaving it behind like +an express train going by a freight. +</p> +<p> +However, Chet would not allow Lance to +throw on all speed. There were too many other +craft on the ice before them—and it was night. +</p> +<p> +The lights of the City of Centerport soon fell +behind them; then, almost at once, they picked +up the lights of Keyport at the extreme end of +the lake. They were traveling some! +</p> +<p> +Chet had strapped on a megaphone, which he +had borrowed from Short and Long, who was +coxswain of the boys’ Central High eight-oared +shell, and through this he shouted his orders to +Lance. They ran down within a mile of Keyport, +and then shut off the engine and circled +about on the momentum they had gained. There +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123'></a>123</span> +were too many skaters and sleighs on the ice +down here to make iceboating either safe or +pleasurable. +</p> +<p> +“My goodness me! Wasn’t that fun?” +gasped Jess. +</p> +<p> +“Felt like you was traveling some, eh?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Chet! it was great!” +</p> +<p> +“It certainly is a fine boat, Bobby,” agreed +Laura. “You and Launcelot have done well.” +</p> +<p> +“Wait!” said Lance, warningly. +</p> +<p> +“Wait for what?” demanded Laura. +</p> +<p> +“We didn’t travel that time. We were only +preparing you—warming her up, as it were. +Wait till we let her out.” +</p> +<p> +“My goodness!” cried Jess. “Can you go +faster?” +</p> +<p> +“We’ll show you, going home,” said Chet. +</p> +<p> +Just then the boat with the green and red light +swooped down upon them and a voice shouted: +</p> +<p> +“What kind of a contraption is that you’ve +got there, Belding?” +</p> +<p> +“Hullo!” exclaimed Chet. “That’s Ira Sobel’s +yacht. Ira is Purt Sweet’s cousin.” Then +he answered: “Oh, this is a little rigging of my +own, Mr. Sobel. But she can travel. Rather +beat’s your <em>Nightkawk</em>, eh?” +</p> +<p> +“Well, she did that time,” admitted Sobel, +doubtfully. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124'></a>124</span> +</p> +<p> +“My goodness me!” the friends heard the +Central High dandy exclaim. “I weally wouldn’t +want to travel any faster, Ira. I—I haven’t +weally got my breath yet!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I say!” cried another voice from the iceboat, +and they recognized Lily Pendleton’s. +“What do you think about the prize? Did you +hear?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, they haven’t decided on the best play +yet, have they?” returned Jess, eagerly, and before +her chum could speak. +</p> +<p> +“No, But I heard they’d put it all into Mr. +Monterey’s hands. He’s the manager of the +Opera House, you know. And mother is very +well acquainted with him. You girls laughed at +my play——” +</p> +<p> +“Not I, Lily,” interrupted Laura, good-naturedly. +“I was too afraid that the rest of you +might have a chance to laugh at mine.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I bet I’ve a good chance to win. Mr. +Monterey is real nice, and mother is going to see +him.” +</p> +<p> +“Pooh!” exclaimed Chet. “She’s one of +those people who think influence brings things +about. Don’t you be worried, girls; I bet Mr. +Sharp won’t let anybody get that prize through +favoritism.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s very encouraging, Chet,” said Jess. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125'></a>125</span> +“But perhaps Lily will win it. You know, she +goes to plays more than any other girl in the +Junior class of Central High, that’s true. And +she reads novels—real silly ones. Maybe she +knows how to write just what would please a +theatrical manager.” +</p> +<p> +“Pooh!” said Laura, “I’m not giving up all +hope yet—especially because of Lil Pendleton’s +say-so.” +</p> +<p> +“Now, look out!” shouted Lance. “All +ready to go back, Chet?” +</p> +<p> +“Start her!” exclaimed his chum, “Cling +tight, girls—and take a good breath. I want +to time this trip. It’s all of nine miles to the +starting point and we’ll show you——” +</p> +<p> +His voice trailed off and the girls did not hear +the rest of his speech. The big propeller-wings +began to beat the air, and the sound rose to a +keen buzzing. Chet snapped his watch back into +his pocket, raised his hand, and the iceboat tore +ahead. +</p> +<p> +In twenty seconds the wind rushed past them +so that the girls were forced to bend their heads. +The way was clear and Lance had “let her out.” +Chet bent sidewise watching the ice through his +goggles. Occasionally he screamed an order to +his chum, who signaled with his hand that he +heard and understood. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126'></a>126</span> +</p> +<p> +It was like the flight of a meteor! Laura and +Jess never had realized before what it meant to +travel fast. Motoring on land was nothing like +this. As though shot out of some huge cannon +the aero-iceboat skimmed the lake. The wind +was almost in their faces, but that made little +difference to this new invention of the chums. +</p> +<p> +The other yachts had to tack against the wind; +not so the aero-iceboat. Swift and straight she +flew and suddenly Chet roared to Lance to shut +down, and the propeller groaningly stopped. +</p> +<p> +Chet flung up his goggles and drew out his +watch. +</p> +<p> +“Eight and a half minutes!” he cried, with +glee. “And, as I told you, it’s a good nine +miles.” +</p> +<p> +“Let me off! let me off!” gasped his sister, +struggling down from the narrow body of the +boat. “Why! I never want to travel any faster, +Chet. Do you think it is <em>safe?</em>” +</p> +<p> +“You bet it is, Miss Laura,” said Lance. +“Or we wouldn’t have invited you girls to go +with us.” +</p> +<p> +“Just wait till some day—say Saturday. By +daylight I’d drive this thing faster than that. I +tell you, we’ve got the speediest craft on the +whole lake.” +</p> +<p> +“It beats what Mrs. Case told us about ski +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127'></a>127</span> +running in Sweden,” cried Jess, who was delighted +with the experience. “And if Mrs. +Case starts a class to travel on skis this winter, +I want to be in it.” +</p> +<p> +“Well! it’s all right to hear about. But the +experience is sort of shaking,” sighed Laura. +“I’m not sure that I have an over-abundance +of pluck, after all.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128'></a>128</span><a name='chXVI' id='chXVI'></a>CHAPTER XVI—“JUST LIKE A STORY BOOK”</h2> +<p> +The Morses were completely settled in their +little house before school opened. Jess had had +a busy vacation, but aside from her ride on +Chet’s and Lance’s <em>Blue Streak</em> she had joined +in little of the holiday fun of her mates at Central +High. +</p> +<p> +There was one basketball game during the +holiday recess. Central High met the Keyport +team on their own court and outplayed them +most decidedly; therefore the athletic temperature +went up several degrees. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Case, the physical instructor of Central +High, was an enthusiastic out-of-doors woman, +and as a heavy snow fell about New Year’s she +easily interested the girls under her instruction +in skiing. This exercise, she pointed out, might +take the place of the fortnightly walking expeditions +during the snowy weather, and there was so +much broken country behind Centerport that the +sport could be indulged in with profit. +</p> +<p> +The boys were getting so much sport out of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129'></a>129</span> +ice hockey that—as the league approved of that +form of exercise—the physical instructor introduced +it on the girls’ athletic field. The field +could be flooded, and had been; now it was a perfectly +smooth piece of ice and upon it those of +the older girls who were already good skaters, +had a chance to learn the mysteries of hockey. +</p> +<p> +“Huh! Father Tom says it’s nothing but old-fashioned +‘shinny’ with a fancy name tacked +onto it,” declared Bobby Hargrew. “But my! +isn’t it fun?” +</p> +<p> +Jess and her chum, as well as the irrepressible, +“took” to hockey, and there were enough of the +other girls interested for two good teams to be +made up. +</p> +<p> +Hester Grimes captained one team and Laura +the other. There was still some little feeling of +rivalry between Hester and Mother Wit—perhaps +not much on the side of the latter; but the +wholesale butcher’s daughter was inclined to be +overbearing, and was never really satisfied unless +she had an important part in whatever went on. +</p> +<p> +The struggle between the two teams for supremacy +among the girls of Central High in this +particular sport really led, however, to good results. +Hester was backed by strong players; and +being so muscular a girl herself she carried her +side to victory two out of every three times. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130'></a>130</span> +</p> +<p> +“We ought to beat her—she’ll get too uppity +to live with,” declared Bobby, discussing these +games. +</p> +<p> +“It will do us good to be beaten occasionally,” +laughed Laura. “You begin to think, Bobby, +that you must belong to the winning side all the +time.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes. Who doesn’t?” sniffed Miss Hargrew. +“It’s all right—all this talk about playing +the game for the game’s sake; but right down +in the bottom of our hearts, don’t all of us play +to win? If we don’t, we never play well, that’s +as sure as shooting.” +</p> +<p> +When the school re-opened, however, on the +first Monday in January, the subject uppermost +in the minds of the girls of Central High was the +prize contest in play-writing for the M. O. R’s. +The girls crowded into Assembly that morning, +all on the <em>qui vive</em> to hear what the principal +would have to say. +</p> +<p> +But after the opening exercises, when Mr. +Sharp came forward to speak, he surprised everybody +by saying: +</p> +<p> +“We are not ready to report upon the matter +of the plays. Mr. Monterey will confer with us +at noon, and before school is dismissed to-day +we will announce the winner. +</p> +<p> +“It is not often that a committee having in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131'></a>131</span> +charge the decision of the winner in an amateur +play-writing competition has the happiness to +be aided by a professional manager of a theater, +and a man, too, who has produced plays of importance +himself. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Monterey’s knowledge of what will <em>act</em> +well will make our final decision, I believe, one +that will strike all competitors as eminently fair. +We have tried to decide upon the prize winner +in a way that will satisfy the giver of the prize, +too—Mrs. Kerrick. She demanded a play that +would act well and that will draw an audience +because of its dramatic value as a play—not +merely because it is written by a girl of Central +High, or is performed by the girls and their +friends for the benefit of the M. O. R’s. +</p> +<p> +“Before the day closes, I can promise you, +the decision will be made and the name of the +prize-winner, and of the title of the play, will be +announced. You are excused to your lessons for +the morning.” +</p> +<p> +The buzz of excitement—especially from the +girls’ side—when Mr. Sharp had ceased speaking, +could scarcely be controlled. Not even Miss +Carrington’s basilisk eye could quell it. +</p> +<p> +Of course, poor Bobby fell a victim to Gee +Gee’s sour temper. She thought the teacher had +long since reached the class room, and she was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132'></a>132</span> +gabbling away to Nell Agnew and Jess “sixteen +to the dozen,” as she would have said herself. +When out of a door popped the bespectacled +Miss Carrington, grimmer and more stern +than usual. +</p> +<p> +“Indeed, Miss! are you supposed to rattle +away like that about matters entirely foreign +to your lessons, on the way to class room?” +demanded the teacher. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, indeed, Miss Carrington,” exclaimed the +contrite Bobby (she always <em>was</em> contrite when +caught in a fault, for all her sauciness and lightness +arose from thoughtlessness) “I really forgot—I +did not mean to make a noise in the corridor.” +</p> +<p> +“Humph! did not mean—did not mean? +What excuse is <em>that</em>, pray?” +</p> +<p> +“Not a very good one, I am afraid,” admitted +Bobby. “But I truly did not intend to break a +rule. We were all so much interested in the +play——” +</p> +<p> +“Yes. Quite so. It is evident that I will get +little out of you young ladies until the matter +of this silly play is settled. I presume you are +one of the contestants, Miss Clara?” +</p> +<p> +“Not at all, Miss Carrington,” said Bobby, +demurely. “I <em>did</em> start to write one. It—it +would have been a tragedy based upon several +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133'></a>133</span> +of the main incidents in the Punic Wars. But +I found that to give the matter proper attention +I should be obliged to neglect some of the studies, +and——” +</p> +<p> +“That will do, Miss Hargrew,” interposed the +teacher, severely. “You bring me on Friday +afternoon a resume of those same Punic Wars—say +a thousand words, I shall learn thereby just +how much you know about the subject you selected +for your play.” +</p> +<p> +Perhaps Bobby deserved what she got; but +she “pulled a dreadfully long face” about it, +while the other girls were inclined to enjoy her +chagrin. +</p> +<p> +As for Jess Morse, it seemed to her that the +waiting for the announcement of the prize-winner +was too hard a cross to bear. So much depended +upon the decision of the committee—it +did seem as though she could not keep her mind +upon the lessons. +</p> +<p> +If she won—<em>if she won!</em>—there would be plain +sailing in the domestic waters of the Morses’ life—and +that had come to mean a great deal to the +girl. For even Mrs. Prentice’s kindness to them +had not cleared away all the troubles for Jess +Morse. +</p> +<p> +True, the account at Mr. Closewick’s had been +paid. Jess, too, had seen to it that the month’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134'></a>134</span> +rent for their new home was met and a little +something paid each week on the running store +accounts. +</p> +<p> +But when Mrs. Morse drew her salary for the +last week from the <em>Courier</em>—and it amounted to +nearly ten dollars that week—she had been +obliged to pay the money over to her dressmaker. +She had found it necessary to order a new costume, +if she was to follow the fashionable receptions, +and the like, on the Hill. This matter of +her mother being a society reporter, Jess feared, +would cost them more in the end than it was +worth to them. +</p> +<p> +And now they began the New Year with positively +nothing in the family purse. And there +was so much needed. There would be another +reception at the M. O. R. house this very week +and Jess told herself that she could not go because +of her lack of a gown. Ah! these things +were all veritable tragedies to her. +</p> +<p> +Lily Pendleton was very sure that she was going +to take the prize. And she was not afraid +to talk about it. +</p> +<p> +“Mother saw Mr. Monterey, and I am sure he +was impressed by what she told him,” she announced. +“Why, when the New Century Club +met at our house last week, I read two acts of +my play, and all the ladies said it was fine.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135'></a>135</span> +</p> +<p> +“Aren’t you modest!” grumbled Bobby. “I +should think it would pain you.” +</p> +<p> +“Now, don’t you get saucy, Bobby,” warned +Lily. “<em>You</em> are not interested in this contest, +that’s sure.” +</p> +<p> +“Huh!” cried Bobby. “I knew better than +to try to write any such thing. If I won the +prize nobody would believe that I wrote it.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Bob,” said Dora Lockwood. “You are +<em>too</em> modest.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir—ree!” returned Bobby. “I know +it. I am of the same modest and withdrawing +nature as the turtle.” +</p> +<p> +“The turtle?” +</p> +<p> +“Yep,” said Bobby, “You know what the +little boy said when he first went into the country? +He came running to his father and says: +‘Oh, Dad! what’s this thing I found? When I +poked it, it put its hands and feet in its pockets +and swallowed its head!’ Now, there can’t be +anything much more retiring than the turtle—or +<em>me</em>.” +</p> +<p> +The bell called them in for the final session +then, and half an hour before closing time the +signal from Mr. Sharp’s office announced that +the girls of all classes were to file to the Assembly +hall and take their seats. On this occasion +the boys were not present. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136'></a>136</span> +</p> +<p> +“If I don’t get it I hope you do, Jess,” whispered +Laura Belding to her chum as they went to +their seats. +</p> +<p> +But to herself Jess kept saying: “Oh, it +would be too good to be true—too good to be +true! It would be just like a story-book.” +</p> +<p> +Mr. Sharp was smiling when he rose to speak. +</p> +<p> +“I must admit that I am surprised—happily +surprised,” he began. “Several of the plays +submitted to the committee are really marked by +a vigor of style and originality of text and plot +that have delighted me. Particularly are ‘The +Strong Defense,’ by Miss Belding, ‘Appearances,’ +by Miss Hilyard, ‘The Arrow’s Flight,’ +by Miss Agnew and ‘Harrowdale,’ by Miss Buford +to be praised upon these points. +</p> +<p> +“Of course, there were some handed in to +the committee that were utterly unintelligible; +the writers had not grasped the first principles +of play-writing. But, as a whole, I am proud of +your efforts, and I know Miss Gould is. I only +fear that many of you young ladies who began +plays did not finish them. It narrowed the +choice down to a very few. +</p> +<p> +“And yet,” pursued Mr. Sharp, “there was +really little doubt in the minds of any of the +committee at the first reading of the manuscripts. +And when the plays considered, from a literary +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137'></a>137</span> +standpoint, really acceptable, were put in the +hands of Mr. Monterey for a final reading and +judgment, we were assured that our opinion was +correct. +</p> +<p> +“There is but one, among them all, that is a +really <em>actable</em> (pardon the coining of the word), +and that one, too, has in it the elements of a +really heart-moving story. The author has failed +in many of the professional rules of play-writing—even +her grammar is somewhat shaky in +spots,” added Mr. Sharp, smiling suddenly. +“But the story is so sweet and so moving, and +is so well fitted to the acting capacity of you girls +and your brothers, that there is not the shadow of +a doubt as to the worth of the piece and the success +of the writer.” +</p> +<p> +For a moment he was silent. The girls were +eager, Lily Pendleton preened herself in her +seat. Her play had not been named when the +principal gave lukewarm praise to those mentioned. +She was sure that he now referred to +her and to her play. +</p> +<p> +On the other hand, Jess Morse had lost all +hope. Her poor little play was not even mentioned, +as Chet would have said, “among the +also rans!” +</p> +<p> +“I am glad to announce—and to congratulate +the young lady at the same time,” said Mr. Sharp, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138'></a>138</span> +“that Miss Josephine Morse is the winner of the +two hundred dollars offered by Mrs. Kerrick, the +title of her play being ‘The Spring Road.’” +</p> +<p> +It came like a thunderbolt! Jess could only +gasp and stare up at him until his smiling, rosy +face, and the big spectacles, were blurred in a +mist that seemed to rise before her like a curtain. +</p> +<p> +Bobby Hargrew started the cheering; but it +was Laura who reached Jess first and hugged her +<em>tight</em>. +</p> +<p> +“I’m just as disappointed as I can be!” she +cried. “I actually thought <em>my</em> play was going +to be best. But as it wasn’t—— Why, Jess, +I’m almost as happy over your winning it as you +can be yourself!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139'></a>139</span><a name='chXVII' id='chXVII'></a>CHAPTER XVII—LILY PENDLETON IS DISSATISFIED</h2> +<p> +“I consider it a very unfair decision—unfair +in every particular,” proclaimed Lily Pendleton, +after school. “Why, he did not even <em>mention</em> +‘The Duchess of Dawnleigh.’ I can’t believe +that Mr. Monterey even <em>saw</em> my play. I certainly +shall make inquiries.” +</p> +<p> +Bobby Hargrew was caustic. “‘The Duchess +of Dawnleigh!’” she repeated. “Say Lil! +would you really know a live duchess if you saw +one coming up the street? Why didn’t you write +about something you knew about?” +</p> +<p> +“I guess I know as much about duchesses as +<em>you</em> do, Bobby Hargrew!” +</p> +<p> +“I hope so,” granted Bobby, cheerily. “If +I had to go up against a duchess—a real, live +one—I expect I’d be like the little milliner in +Boston, when some great, high-and-mighty personages +came there from England. One of them +was a sure-enough duchess, and she sent for the +little milliner to do some work for her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140'></a>140</span> +</p> +<p> +“The little workwoman was just about scared +into a conniption,” chuckled Bobby, “when she +found she had to go to the grand hotel to meet +the grand lady and so asked a friend who knew +a little more about the nobility than <em>she</em> did, +what she should do when she entered the grand +lady’s presence. +</p> +<p> +“‘Why, when you enter the room,’ explained +the friend, ‘merely bow, and in speaking to her +say “Your Grace.”’ +</p> +<p> +“The little milliner,” continued Bobby, +“thought she could do that all right, and she +went to the interview with the duchess without +any dress rehearsal. When she got inside the +lady’s door she bowed very low and says, right +off: +</p> +<p> +“‘For what we are about to receive, Oh, Lord, +make us truly grateful!’” +</p> +<p> +But While there may have been some disappointment +in the hearts of some of the girls of +Central High who had striven for the prize, they +not yet having heard Jess Morse’s play read, even +the disappointed ones were not niggardly with +their congratulations. +</p> +<p> +Jess walked in a maze that afternoon when she +went home, Laura on one side and Nell Agnew +on the other, while Bobby pirouetted around them +like a very brilliant and revolving planet. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141'></a>141</span> +</p> +<p> +“And is there a part in your play for me?” +demanded the irrepressible. “I just dote on actin. +But no thinking part for mine, young lady! +I must at least be important enough in the play +to say: ‘Me Lord! the carriage waits.’” +</p> +<p> +“You could play the part of <em>Puck</em> or <em>Ariel</em>, +Bobby,” declared Nellie Agnew. +</p> +<p> +“Hah! did you use those characters in ‘The +Arrow’s Flight’?” gibed Bobby. “No wonder +it was turned down then. Stealing boldly from +Shakespeare!” +</p> +<p> +“No, I didn’t, Miss!” returned Nell, rather +sharply. “I hope you noticed that I was one +of those who was ‘honorably mentioned.’” +</p> +<p> +“Sure. Mr. Sharp let you all down easy,” +chortled Bobby. +</p> +<p> +“I believe the decision in the contest was eminently +fair,” declared Laura. “Yet I thought I +would surely win.” +</p> +<p> +“So did I,” cried Nell. +</p> +<p> +“And I didn’t even dare <em>hope</em> for it,” said +Jess, awe-stricken. “It’s just the most wonderful +thing that ever happened.” +</p> +<p> +But Mrs. Morse took the success of “The +Spring Road” quite as a matter of course. +</p> +<p> +“There, Josephine!” she exclaimed. “Now +you can have the new clothes you are really suffering +for——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142'></a>142</span> +</p> +<p> +Jess decided that the argument might as well +come right then. So she halted her mother on +the verge of her plans for renewing the girl’s +wardrobe in a style more befitting the means of +Lily Pendleton’s mother, than her own! +</p> +<p> +“We have got to pay our debts,” declared the +girl, warmly. “Every penny must be paid, +Mother, dear. Let’s be free of bills and duns +for once, at least. Let us start square with the +world—and stay square if we can.” +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Morse did not wish her daughter to use +the prize money for their general needs. Jess +had much trouble to convince her that it would +make her, Jess, far happier to do that than to +own the finest set of furs, or the most beautiful +evening gown, that would be displayed upon the +Hill that winter. +</p> +<p> +She did agree, finally, however, to have a new +dress so that she could attend the M. O. R. reception +that week, at which her play was read +aloud by Miss Gould herself, and it was praised +by the audience until Jess’s ears fairly burned. +Then the committee properly appointed went into +executive session and plans for the production +of “The Spring Road” went with a rush. +</p> +<p> +It was easy to choose a cast of characters. +With a little advice from Jess it was not hard to +select the very girls and boys best fitted to act +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143'></a>143</span> +in the piece. And such selection was made that +very week, the typewritten ‘sides’ distributed to +the several players, and the boys and girls went +to work to memorize their parts. Lance Darby +and Chet Belding were both in the play, and although +neither Laura, nor Jess herself, had a +part, they were both so busy (for they were on +the M. O. R. play committee) that for a few +days athletics and sports were well-nigh neglected. +</p> +<p> +Through the good-natured manager of the +Centerport Opera House, scenery and much of +the properties and some costumes for the inferior +characters were to be obtained. But the principal +characters would furnish their own costumes, +and that is where Lily Pendleton began to lose +her dissatisfaction. Disappointed as she had +been regarding the decision of the committee, +when she found that she was cast for an important +part in Jess’s play she “came out of the +sulks,” as Bobby termed it. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Monterey suggested to the committee, too, +the name of a man to take charge of the rehearsals—really, +to be stage director of “The +Spring Road.” He came to the M. O. R. house +one afternoon to read the play—a dapper, foreign-looking +man of an indeterminate age, who +continually twirled a silken black mustache and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144'></a>144</span> +listened devotedly to any girl who talked to him. +</p> +<p> +Lily began to cultivate Mr. Pizotti assiduously. +Really, one might have supposed <em>she</em> had written +the play, instead of Jess Morse, she was so frequently +in conference with Mr. Pizotti that first +afternoon. +</p> +<p> +Bobby, who had likewise been cast for a part +in “The Spring Road,” watched Lily’s actions +with the stage manager with a good deal of disgust. +</p> +<p> +“What do you know about that foolish girl?” +she demanded. “I’ll wager that greasy foreigner +has got a wife and ten children—and neglects +them. He has brilliantine on that moustache, +and he smells of hair-oil, and I’ll wager, +too his hair will show gray at the roots, and I +<em>know</em> it is thin on top.” +</p> +<p> +“How wise you are, Miss Bobby,” said Nellie, +who heard her. “For a child you seem to have +learned a lot.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m foxy,” returned Bobby, grinning impishly. +“I’m fully as smart as that kid brother +of Alice Long’s. He came up to see us the other +day—Alice brought him. Aunt Mary is real +old fashioned, you know, and she sat in the kitchen +darning and Tommy was playing around +the floor. She thought it was getting toward +tea time and she said to him: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145'></a>145</span> +</p> +<p> +“‘Tommy, go into the front hall and see if +the clock is running, that’s a good boy.’ +</p> +<p> +“Tommy came back after a minute, and says: +</p> +<p> +“‘No, ma’am, it ain’t running; it’s standing +still. But it’s wagging it’s tail!’” +</p> +<p> +“And there’s Lil putting on her hat in a hurry +so as to meet the man when Miss Gould is +through with him, and walk down the block——Did +you ever?” exclaimed Jess. +</p> +<p> +“Poor Pretty Sweet!” groaned Bobby. “<em>His</em> +nose is out of joint. He has been Lil’s bright +and shining cavalier for months. Dear, dear +me! The Duchess of Dusenberry—was <em>that</em> the +name of Lil’s play?—sure does have her favorites, +and like the <em>Queen of Hearts</em> in “Alice in +Wonderland,” has only one command for her discarded +courtiers: ‘Off with their heads!’” and +Bobby giggled as she peered from the window to +watch the dapper Mr. Pizotti and Lily Pendleton +walk down the street side by side. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146'></a>146</span><a name='chXVIII' id='chXVIII'></a>CHAPTER XVIII—THE SKI RUNNERS</h2> +<p> +The New Year had ushered in the first big +fall of snow—and it kept coming. Every few +days, for the following fortnight, snow fell until +Centerport’s street-cleaning department was +swamped, and the drifts lay deep upon the vacant +lots and against fences and blind walls. +</p> +<p> +Skating was done for, for the ice on the lake +had become overloaded, and had broken up into a +shifting mass of blocks, grinding against each +other when the wind blew, and threatening the +safety of any craft that tried to put out in it. +</p> +<p> +So traffic on Lake Luna ceased, and, of course, +iceboating was likewise impossible. Chet and +Lance Darby, had they not been so extremely +busy learning their parts in the new play, could +not have used their aero-iceboat during this time. +Sleds were out in force, however—bobsleds, +double-runners, toboggans, “framers,” and every +sort of coasting paraphernalia. Even the Whiffle +Street hill was made a coasting place by the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147'></a>147</span> +young folk of the neighborhood, much to the +despair of some grouty people who had forgotten +their own youth, and who either telephoned their +complaints to the police, or sprinkled ashes on the +slide in the early morning hours. +</p> +<p> +It was at this time, however, that Mrs. Case, +the girls’ physical instructor of Central High, +took her class in ski running out into the open. +</p> +<p> +At first the dozen or more girls had practiced +on their athletic field, which was now snow-covered, +too. It was a particularly odd experience +to stand upon narrow boards of ash, some +ten feet in length, and then try to shuffle along +on them without tipping sideways, or plunging +head-first into a drift. +</p> +<p> +Each ski runner held a pole, with a spike in +one end, and this was an aid to balancing, as well +as of additional use if one tumbled down. It was +no easy task, the girls found, to get up when they +had been thrown into a drift. +</p> +<p> +“My!” commented Bobby Hargrew, “if you +cross your feet going down hill on these things, +you’re likely to dislocate every joint in your +body.” +</p> +<p> +“Be sure you do not cross your feet, then,” +advised Mrs. Case, grimly. “I have shown you +all the correct position to stand upon these skis. +The professional ski runner does not even use a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148'></a>148</span> +pole. He will take the steep sides of mountains +at a two-mile a minute rate. I have seen them +do so in Switzerland and in Sweden and Norway. +And they will jump into the air from the verge +of high banks, and land on the drift at the bottom +with perfect balance.” +</p> +<p> +“This is going to be no cinch to learn,” pronounced +Bobby. “I know it’s going to be some +time before I am good enough at it to jump off +the top of Boulder Head on Cavern Island—now +you see!” +</p> +<p> +“You would better take a much less difficult +jump first,” advised Mrs. Case, smiling. “It +will be enough fun for us to learn to travel on the +skis without any frills. In Europe—especially +on the road between St. Moritz and Celerina—I +have often seen ski riders with horses. A +horse trots ahead, drawing several riders on skis, +who cling together by the aid of a rope fastened +to the horse’s collar. Sometimes each rider has a +horse, and they race horses just as though they +were riding in sleighs. +</p> +<p> +“It is great sport, but like every other healthful +form of athletics, it is often made dangerous +and objectionable by those who are reckless, or +rough. We will learn to balance ourselves, and +to coast down a gentle descent.” +</p> +<p> +So, the next Saturday, the teacher and more +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149'></a>149</span> +than a dozen girls of Central High piled into a +big, straw-filled sleigh, and were whisked out into +the hills south of the city. The inn at Robinson’s +Woods—a popular picnicking ground in +summer—was made their headquarters, and +there they left the sleigh and took to the difficult +skis. +</p> +<p> +The climb to the top of the bluff overlooking +the speedway, on which everybody—almost—who +owned a sleigh was driving that afternoon, +was not an easy one for the girls. Mrs. Case, +holding her body erect, yet easily, shuffled up +the incline with such little apparent effort that +some of her pupils were in despair. +</p> +<p> +“We’ll never be able to run as you do, Mrs. +Case!” cried Dora Lockwood. “Never! Why—ouch! +There, I came near tumbling down that +time.” +</p> +<p> +“Keep your balance. Use the pole if you have +to,” advised the instructor. “It is not a running +motion—it is more like a slide.” +</p> +<p> +“Say!” growled Bobby, who was having +trouble, too. “It beats the ‘debutante slink,’ +that came in with narrow skirts. I feel as if I +was tumbling down every second.” +</p> +<p> +But they gained confidence in time. They +reached the top of the bluff and then the long, +easy slope, right beside the speedway, spread, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150'></a>150</span> +spotless, before them. Mrs. Case showed them +how to start, and after a fashion several of the +bigger girls reached the bottom of the hill, and +then panted up again, pronouncing it the best +ever! +</p> +<p> +Bobby would not be outdone, as she said, “by +anything in skirts,” and so she ventured. Halfway +down the hill one of her skis must have +struck something—perhaps the stub of a bush +sticking out of the snow. Whew! Bobby +turned almost a complete somersault! +</p> +<p> +She was buried so deep in a drift—and head +first, at that—that it took both Laura and Mrs. +Case to pull her out. +</p> +<p> +“Oh-me-oh-my!” cried Bobby, who looked +like an animated snow-girl for the moment. +“And just as I was getting on so well, too! +Wasn’t that mean?” +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps you’d better not try any more to-day, +Clara” said the instructor. +</p> +<p> +“And let those other girls get ahead of me? +Well! I guess not!” declared Miss Hargrew, +and she ploughed back to the top of the hill, +fastened her feet upon the skis again, and started +once more. +</p> +<p> +Laura and Jess Morse were on the hilltop, +looking out upon the white track over which the +sleighs were flying. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151'></a>151</span> +</p> +<p> +“Look there!” gasped Jess, seizing her chum’s +arm. “Isn’t that the Pendletons’ sleigh?” +</p> +<p> +“Of course it is. With the big plumes and +the pair of dappled grays? And that stiff and +starched coachman driving? No mistake,” admitted +Laura. +</p> +<p> +“Who’s in the sleigh with Lil?” demanded +Jess. +</p> +<p> +“As I live!” cried her chum, in a somewhat +horrified tone. “It—it is that Pizotti—that +man!” +</p> +<p> +“Can you beat her?” said Jess, shaking her +head. +</p> +<p> +“How foolish!” added Laura. “He is not +a good man. He has known her so short a time—and +to go sleigh-riding with her. Lil will be +talked about, sure enough.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I don’t know as <em>we</em> need to worry +about her,” said Jess, shrugging her shoulders. +</p> +<p> +But Laura Belding could not put her schoolmate’s +indiscreet actions out of her mind so +easily. She wondered if Mrs. Pendleton knew +of Lily’s familiarity with the foreign-looking +Pizotti. The man might know his business as a +stage director; but he certainly was neither of +the age, nor the condition in life, to be cultivated +as a friend by any young girl. +</p> +<p> +Lily Pendleton was so foolishly romantic, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152'></a>152</span> +so crazy about theatrical matters, that to be noticed +by any person connected with the stage, or +theatrical affairs, quite turned her head. And +then, she still talked a great deal about her own +play, “The Duchess of Dawnleigh.” She was +sure it had not been given a proper reading—especially +by Mr. Monterey. Perhaps, for reasons +best known to himself, this stranger, Mr. +Pizotti, had promised the foolish girl that he +would help her get “The Duchess of Dawnleigh” +produced. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153'></a>153</span><a name='chXIX' id='chXIX'></a>CHAPTER XIX—THE FIRST DRESS REHEARSAL</h2> +<p> +Laura Belding was a particularly frank, outspoken +girl, and when she met Lily Pendleton +that Saturday night at the rehearsal of Jess’s +play, she came out “flat-footed,” as her chum +would have said, with the question: +</p> +<p> +“Who was that in the sleigh with you to-day, +Lil?” +</p> +<p> +Lily flushed instantly, bridled, and smiled. +“Who do you s’pose?” she returned. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t believe your mother knew you had +that theatrical man to drive with you,” said +Laura, bluntly. +</p> +<p> +“Why, how you talk! I merely met Signor +Pizotti, and took him up——” +</p> +<p> +“You don’t know who he is,” spoke Laura. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, indeed, Miss! And do <em>you?</em>” demanded +Lily, rather sharply. +</p> +<p> +“No, And I don’t want to know him.” +</p> +<p> +“He is a very scholarly man—and he knows +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154'></a>154</span> +all about staging this play. If it wasn’t for him, +I guess, ‘The Spring Road’ would suffer from +frost,” said Lily, with an unkind laugh. +</p> +<p> +“That may be,” said Laura, flushing a little +herself, for any slur cast upon her chum’s play +hurt her, too. “But his knowledge of how to +produce or stage a play does not establish his private +character.” +</p> +<p> +“Pooh! you are interfering in something that +you know nothing about,” declared Miss Pendleton, +loftily. “And it does not concern you at all.” +</p> +<p> +“I do not believe your mother would approve,” +ventured Laura. +</p> +<p> +“Never you mind about my mother,” snapped +Lily, and turned her back on Mother Wit. +</p> +<p> +The latter took herself to task later, thinking +she had been too presumptuous. +</p> +<p> +“But really,” she said to Jess, on their way +home that evening, “I did not mean to be. +Only, the man looks so unreliable. I’m afraid +of him.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m not afraid of him,” said Jess, decidedly. +“I only dislike him. But there is no accounting +for tastes. My mother knew of a foolish girl +who wrote to an opera tenor—one of those +handsome, spoiled foreigners, and she sent him +her photograph and told him how much she liked +his singing—and all that. Just a silly letter, you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155'></a>155</span> +know. But she didn’t sign her name and she +thought he would never learn who she was. +</p> +<p> +“But he went to the photographer,” continued +Jess, “and bribed him to tell who the girl was, +and by that time she had written to the man +several times, and he had written to her. So +then he threatened her that if she did not give +him five hundred dollars he would send her letters +to her father. And she was in dreadful +trouble, for she was afraid of what her father +would do.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Lil won’t do anything like <em>that!</em>” gasped +Laura. “I don’t believe she even thinks she +<em>cares</em> about that Pizotti. It is only his foreign +way that makes it appear so. But I believe he +is flattering her about her play, and perhaps +will get money from her or her mother.” +</p> +<p> +“Pizotti! Ha!” grunted Jess, before they +separated. “I’m like Bobby Hargrew: I don’t +believe that’s even his name. It sounds too +fancy to be a <em>real</em> name.” +</p> +<p> +But Mr. Pizotti was an able man in his business. +He came from time to time to the M. O. R. +house and his advice regarding the play was always +practical. He was something of a musician, +too, and played the accompaniments for the +girls who sang in “The Spring Road.” He suggested +improvements in the costumes, too; and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156'></a>156</span> +Lily Pendleton was entirely guided by his taste +in her choice of the gowns she was to wear in +the production. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Pendleton was a very busy woman in a +social way and allowed her daughter to do about +as she pleased. Lily aped the manners of girls +who had long since graduated from school and +were flashy in their dress and manners. +</p> +<p> +To tell the truth, the after-hour athletics, governed +by Mrs. Case, had been the one saving +thing in Lily Pendleton’s life for some months. +She would have become so enamored of fashion +and frivolity, had it not been for the call of athletics, +that she would have fallen sadly behind +in her school work. +</p> +<p> +But she liked certain activities enjoyed by +those who were attentive to Mrs. Case’s classes; +and to gain these privileges one had to stand +well in her general studies. Lily was smart +enough, was a quick student, and so kept up +her school work. +</p> +<p> +This business of acting appealed to her immensely. +She was “just crazy about it,” as +she admitted to her particular friend, Hester +Grimes. +</p> +<p> +“I wish my folks were poor, so that I would +have to work when I leave school,” she declared. +“Then I’d go on the stage myself.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157'></a>157</span> +</p> +<p> +“You wouldn’t!” exclaimed Hester. +</p> +<p> +“I would in a minute. And this Signor Pizotti +could place me very advantageously——” +</p> +<p> +“Pooh! you don’t believe anything that fellow +says, do you?” demanded her chum, who +was eminently practical and had none of the silly +ideas in her head that troubled Lily. +</p> +<p> +“You don’t know him!” exclaimed Lily. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t want to,” replied Hester, gruffly. +</p> +<p> +Preparations for the first dress rehearsal of +“The Spring Road” went on apace. But, of +course, Bobby Hargrew <em>would</em> have bad luck! +She was thrown from Short and Long’s bobsled +one night and had to be helped home. The hurt +to her foot was a small matter; but the doctor +said she would have to wear her arm in a sling +for a time. +</p> +<p> +“And how can I play <em>Arista</em> with my arm +strapped to my side?” wailed Bobby, when Jess +and Laura came in to commiserate with her over +the accident. “Oh, dear me! I am the most +unlucky person in the world. If it was raining +soup I’d have a hole in <em>my</em> dipper!” +</p> +<p> +Mr. Monterey, the local manager, came himself +to the dress rehearsal. He only sat out +front, and watched and listened; and he went +away without expressing an opinion to anybody. +Yet Jess saw him there and was excited by the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158'></a>158</span> +possibility of Mr. Monterey’s recognizing the +value of the play for professional purposes. +</p> +<p> +At the Morse domicile things were going better, +and the girl’s mind was vastly relieved from +present troubles. Yet she was wise enough to +see that in the offing the same danger of debt +threatened them if they were not very, very +careful. +</p> +<p> +It was true that scarcely half the prize money +had been spent; yet Mrs. Morse’s regular work +on the <em>Courier</em> barely fed them; and her success +with the popular magazines was but fitful. +Sometimes two months passed without her +mother receiving even a ten-dollar check from +her fugitive work. +</p> +<p> +Oh, if she could only find somebody who +would take the play—after the M. O. R.’s had +made use of it—and whip it into shape for professional +use, and give her a part of the proceeds! +</p> +<p> +That was the thought continually knocking at +the door of Jess Morse’s mind. It was “too +good to be true,” yet she kept thinking about it, +and hoping for the impossible, and dreaming of +it. +</p> +<p> +However, the dress rehearsal of “The Spring +Road” was pronounced by the teachers and Mr. +Pizotti as eminently satisfactory. Bobby was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159'></a>159</span> +letter-perfect in her part, if she <em>did</em> have +“a damaged wing,” as she said. And most of the +other important roles were well learned. +</p> +<p> +The very prettiest girl of Central High had +been chosen for the chief female character, and +in this case prettiness went with brains. She had +learned her part, and was natural and graceful, +and was altogether a delight. +</p> +<p> +As for Launcelot Darby, he was the most romantic +looking <em>Truant Lover</em> that could have +been found. And he played with feeling, too, +although his mates were making a whole lot of +fun of him on the side. But Laura had urged +him to do his best, and Lance would have done +anything in his power to please Mother Wit. +</p> +<p> +Chet Belding, as a peasant, “made up” well, +and was letter perfect, too, in his part, if a little +awkward. But that did not so much matter, +considering the character he had to portray. +And, of course, he would do nothing to belittle +Jess’s play. His whole heart was in his work, +too. +</p> +<p> +So, after that first dress rehearsal, the committee +and Jess were hopeful of success. The +time for the production of the play was set, the +tickets printed, and out of school hours everything +was in a bustle of preparation for the great +occasion. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160'></a>160</span><a name='chXX' id='chXX'></a>CHAPTER XX—“MR. PIZOTTI”</h2> +<p> +“Listen to this!” +</p> +<p> +Bobby Hargrew, her arm still in a sling, seized +Jess Morse by the wrist and “tiptoed” along the +corridor of the second wing of Central High, +where the small offices were located, and with +tragic expression pointed to a certain door that +stood ajar. +</p> +<p> +Jess, amazed, did not speak, but listened. Out +of the room came a muffled voice, but the words +spoken were these: +</p> +<p> +“Unhand me! Nay, keep your distance, +Count Mornay! I am no peasant wench to be +charmed either by your gay coat or your gay +manner. Ah! your villainies are known to me, +nor can you hide the cloven hoof beneath the +edge of Virtue’s robe.” +</p> +<p> +“Ha! ha!” chuckled Bobby, almost strangling +with laughter. “He ought to have worn boots +and so hidden his ‘cloven hoof.’ Come away, +Jess, or I shall burst! Did you ever hear the +like?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161'></a>161</span> +</p> +<p> +“Why—why, what is it?” demanded Jess, +mystified. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, don’t! Wait till I laugh!” chuckled +Bobby, when they were around the corner of the +corridor again. “Isn’t that rich?” +</p> +<p> +“Who was it talking?” asked Jess. +</p> +<p> +“Talking! Didn’t you recognize that oration?” +</p> +<p> +“I did not. Mother doesn’t allow me to read +any penny-dreadful story papers, magazines or +books.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, ho! Wait!” gasped Bobby. “That’s +Lil.” +</p> +<p> +“Lily Pendleton?” +</p> +<p> +“You evidently haven’t heard any of the +‘Duchess of Dusenberry’ before. <em>That’s it!</em>” +</p> +<p> +“Not part of her play?” +</p> +<p> +“That is one of the melodramatic bits,” said +Bobby, weakly, leaning against the wall for support. +“Yes, really, Jess. That is in her play. +I’ve heard her recite it before.” +</p> +<p> +“My goodness me!” gasped Jess. +</p> +<p> +“It’s not <em>all</em> so bad, I guess. But when she +gets flowery and romantic she just tears off such +paragraphs as that. ‘Nor can you hide the cloven +hoof beneath the edge of Virtue’s robe.’ Isn’t +that a peach?” +</p> +<p> +“Bobby!” exclaimed Jess, breathless herself +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162'></a>162</span> +by now, “you use the worst slang of any girl +in Central High.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s all right. But Lil’s using worse language +than I ever dreamed of,” laughed Bobby. +“I’ve heard her spouting that sort of stuff time +and time again. When she shuts herself up, presumably +to study her part in your play, half the +time she is reciting her own lines. She likes the +sound of ’em. And she had that Pizotti fellow +backed in a corner of the front hall at the M. +O. R. house the other afternoon, reciting that +same sort of stuff to him. +</p> +<p> +“Repeating her play?” +</p> +<p> +“Yep. The silly! And he pretending that it +was great, and applauding her. I’ll wager that +he sees a way to make money out of Lil Pendleton, +or he wouldn’t stand for it.” +</p> +<p> +Jess carried this idea in her mind, although +she was not as much troubled by her schoolmate’s +foolishness as was Mother Wit. There was a +loyalty among the girls of Central High, however, +that few ignored. Despite the fact that +Jess had never especially liked Lily Pendleton, +she would have done anything in her power to +help her. +</p> +<p> +So, that very evening, when she was marketing, +she chanced to see something that brought +Lil’s affairs into her mind again. She was going +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163'></a>163</span> +into Mr. Vandergriff’s store when she saw a +man, bundled in a big ulster, talking with the +proprietor. +</p> +<p> +Griff came forward to wait on Jess, and the +girl might not have noticed the man by the desk +a second time had she not overheard Mr. Vandergriff +say: +</p> +<p> +“You take advantage of my good nature, +Abel. Because I knew you in the old country, +you come here and plead poverty. I can’t see +your family suffer, for your wife is a nice +woman, if you <em>are</em> a rascal!” +</p> +<p> +“Hard words! Hard words, Vandergriff,” +muttered the other. +</p> +<p> +Jess saw that he was a little man, and the high +ulster collar muffled the lower part of his face. +But as he turned toward the door she caught a +glimpse of a glossy black mustache, and two +beady black eyes. +</p> +<p> +It was Mr. Pizotti! +</p> +<p> +The girl was so astonished, for the man was +shabbily dressed, and shuffled out with several +bundles under his arm, that she could scarcely +remember what else she wanted to buy when +Griff asked her. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I say, Griff!” she demanded, breathlessly, +and in a whisper. “Who was that man +who just went out?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164'></a>164</span> +</p> +<p> +“Why—oh, that was only Abel Plornish.” +</p> +<p> +“Abel Plornish!” +</p> +<p> +“Yep. Poor, useless creature,” said the boy, +with disgust. “Or, so father says. He knew +Abel in England. You know, father came from +London before he was married,” and Griff +smiled. +</p> +<p> +“But this man—are you sure his name is +Plornish?” +</p> +<p> +“Quite, Jess. Why, he plays the violin, or +the piano, in some cheap moving picture place, +I believe.” +</p> +<p> +“Then he is a musician?” demanded Jess, +breathlessly. +</p> +<p> +“And a bad one, I reckon. But he has done +other things. He’s been on the stage. And he’s +even worked in the Centerport Opera House, I +believe.” +</p> +<p> +“And that is really his name?” asked Jess. +</p> +<p> +“It’s an awful one, isn’t it? Plornish! +Nothing very romantic or fancy about that,” +laughed Griff. “Now, what else, Jess?” +</p> +<p> +Jess was so disturbed by this discovery that +she could only think to ask Griff one more question. +That related to where Plornish lived. +</p> +<p> +“Somewhere on Governor Street. I think it’s +Number 9. Tenement house. Oh, they’re poor, +and I believe when he gets any money he spends +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165'></a>165</span> +it on himself. I saw him once on Market Street +dressed like a dandy. But when his wife and +children come in here they look pretty shabby.” +</p> +<p> +It wasn’t very late, and, anyway, Jess couldn’t +have slept that night without talking the matter +over with Mother Wit. She left her basket in +the kitchen, saw that her mother was busy at +her desk, and ran up Whiffle Street hill to the +Belding house. +</p> +<p> +“Is dat suah yo’, Miss Jess?” asked Mammy +Jinny, peering out of the side door when Jess +rang the bell. “Come right erlong in, honey. +Yo’s jes’ as welcome as de flowers in de Maytime. +B-r-r! ain’t it cold?” +</p> +<p> +“It is cold, Mammy,” said Jess to the Beldings’ +old serving woman. “Where’s Laura?” +</p> +<p> +“She’s done gone up to her room ter listen ter +Mars’ Chet an’ dat Lance Darby boy orate dem +pieces dey is goin’ to recite in school nex’ week.” +</p> +<p> +“They are going to act in my play, Mammy!” +cried Jess. +</p> +<p> +“Mebbe so. Mebbe so. But it’s all recitationin’ +ter me. Dat leetle Bobby Hargrew was +in here and she say it’s jes’ like w’en you-all +useter recite at de Sunday night concerts in de +Sunday school room. An’ dem pieces yo’ orated +den was a hull lot nicer dan w’at Mars’ Chet is +sayin’. ’Member how you recited dat ‘Leetle +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166'></a>166</span> +drops o’ water, leetle grains o’ sand’ piece, +Miss Jess? Dat was suah a nice piece o’ +po’try.” +</p> +<p> +“And you don’t care for the parts you have +heard of my play, Mammy?” asked Jess, much +amused. +</p> +<p> +“Suah ’nuff, now! Did you make up disher +play dey is goin’ ter act?” demanded Mammy +Jinny. +</p> +<p> +“I certainly did.” +</p> +<p> +“Wal, I hates ter hu’t yo’ feelin’s, Miss Jess,” +said Mammy, gravely, “but dat ‘Leetle drops o’ +water’ po’try was a hull lot better—ter <em>my</em> min’! +Ya’as’m! yo kin’ go right up. Yo’ll hear dem-all +a-spoutin’—spoutin’ jes’ like whales!” +</p> +<p> +And so she did. Chet was reading his lines +with much unction while striding up and down +Laura’s pretty little room. Lance and Mother +Wit were his audience. +</p> +<p> +“For goodness sake, Chet!” cried Jess, +breaking in. “Who told you your part was +tragic, and that ‘The Spring Road’ was tragedy?” +</p> +<p> +“Huh?” questioned Chet, stopping short and +blinking at her. +</p> +<p> +“Do read the lines naturally. Don’t be ‘orating,’ +as Mammy Jinny calls it. I guess she’s +right. ‘Little drops of water’ is better than all +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167'></a>167</span> +that bombastic stuff. Do, do, my dear, speak +it naturally.” +</p> +<p> +“Hear her!” growled Chet “And she wrote +it!” +</p> +<p> +“I never really meant it to sound like that, +Chet,” declared Jess, shaking her head. “I +really didn’t. Why! it sounds almost as bad +as ‘The Duchess of Dawnleigh.’” +</p> +<p> +“Wha—what’s that?” demanded Lance. +</p> +<p> +“Not Lil’s play?” cried Laura. “Have you +heard it?” +</p> +<p> +Jess told what she had heard at the door of +the recitation room that afternoon, and they +laughed over it. +</p> +<p> +“Yet I can see very well,” continued Jess, +“that you actors can make my words sound just +as absurd if you want to. Do, <em>do</em> be natural.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s what I tell them,” sighed Laura. “I +am glad you heard Chet spouting here. One +would think he was playing ‘Hamlet,’ or ‘Richard +III.’” +</p> +<p> +Chet was a little miffed. But he soon “came +out of it,” as Lance said, and he was so fond of +Jess anyway that he would have tried his best +to please her. +</p> +<p> +He grew more moderate in his “orating” and +the girls, as critics, were better pleased. Lance +took a leaf out of his chum’s book, too, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168'></a>168</span> +when he declaimed his lines he succeeded in +pleasing Jess and Laura the first time. Besides, +Lance was naturally a better actor than Chet. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Pizotti had taught them how to enter +properly, and how to take their cues; but to +Jess’s mind he was not the man to train amateurs +to speak their parts with naturalness. If +Miss Gould had not given so much time to the +rehearsals of “The Spring Road” the play +would have not been half the success it promised +to be. And, of course, the Central High +teacher gave her attention mainly to the girls +in the cast of characters. +</p> +<p> +When Lance and Chet lounged off to the +latter’s den Jess instantly poured into Laura’s +ears her discovery of the identity of “Mr. +Pizotti.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, even at that he may be a man trying +to earn his living. Many stage people change +their names for business reasons. ‘Plornish’ +is not an attractive name, you must admit,” said +Laura, smiling. “‘Pizotti’ fits his foreign +look.” +</p> +<p> +“But what is he trying to get out of Lil +Pendleton?” demanded Jess, bluntly. +</p> +<p> +“That’s what troubles me,” admitted Mother +Wit. “I believe he is trying to get money out +of Lily, or from her folks. And it has to do +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169'></a>169</span> +with Lil’s play. You can see that she believes +her play was slighted and that it is a great deal +better than yours, Jess.” +</p> +<p> +“I guess she has a good opinion of it,” returned +Jess, laughing. +</p> +<p> +“Well, suppose this fellow tells her she is +right, and that he can get it produced, if she +will put up the money?” suggested Mother Wit. +“I—I wish Lil would place confidence in me.” +</p> +<p> +“Tell her mother.” +</p> +<p> +“No use,” sighed Laura. “I doubt if she +would even listen to me. She wouldn’t want +to be bothered. You know very well the kind +of woman Mrs. Pendleton is.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I don’t suppose it is any of our business, +anyway,” spoke Jess. +</p> +<p> +“It is. Lil is one of us—one of the girls of +Central High. We have a deep interest in anything +that concerns her. The only trouble is,” +sighed Laura, “I don’t know just what is best +to do.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170'></a>170</span><a name='chXXI' id='chXXI'></a>CHAPTER XXI—MOTHER WIT PUTS TWO AND TWO TOGETHER</h2> +<p> +The snow still mantled the ground, and the +coasting and ski running remained very popular +sports with the girls and boys of Central High. +But a day’s hard rain, with a sharp frost after +it, had given the iceboating another lease of +life, too. Lake Luna was a-glare from the mainland +to Cavern Island, and the freight boats had +given over running until the spring break-up. +</p> +<p> +Not that there were no open places in the +ice—for there were, and dangerous holes, too. +The current through the length of the lake was +bound to make the ice weak in places. But near +the Centerport shore was a long stretch of open +ice that the authorities pronounced safe. +</p> +<p> +Chet and Lance got the <em>Blue Streak</em> out again +and there wasn’t a girl in the junior class who +was not envious of Laura and Jess. Skating +was tame beside traveling at a mile a minute in +an aero-iceboat; and the other ice yachts were +not in the same class with the invention of Chet +and Lance. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171'></a>171</span> +</p> +<p> +The date set for the production of Jess’s play +in the big hall of the schoolhouse approached, +however; and preparation for the event was +neglected by none of the M. O. R.’s or the +other girls and boys in the cast. +</p> +<p> +Friday evening would see the first production; +but the intention was to give a matinee for the +pupils of the three Centerport High Schools at +a nominal price on Saturday morning, and then +a final performance Saturday evening. From +these three performances the committee hoped +to gain at least a thousand dollars, and possibly +half as much more. This would be a splendid +addition to the somewhat slim building fund of +the M. O. R.’s. +</p> +<p> +Lily Pendleton went about these days with a +very self-satisfied expression of countenance +and such a mysterious manner that Bobby said +to her: +</p> +<p> +“Huh! you look like an old hen that’s hidden +her nest and thinks nobody’s going to find it, +What are you up to now?” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you wish you knew?” returned Lily. +</p> +<p> +Even Hester Grimes admitted that she was not +in Lil’s confidence. But the hints Lily dropped +troubled Mother Wit. +</p> +<p> +Laura Belding had not forgotten the discovery +her chum had made regarding the identity +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172'></a>172</span> +of the man who called himself “Pizotti.” The +stage director would not again attend the performance +of “The Spring Road” until the day +of the first production. Yet Laura believed that +Lily had an understanding of some sort with +him. +</p> +<p> +Governor Street, where Griff told Jess the +Plornish family lived, was one of the very +poorest in that part of the city, being located +at the foot of the Hill and below Market Street +itself. +</p> +<p> +Laura and Jess went shopping one afternoon +on Market Street; and despite the fact that it +was nipping cold weather, and that the street +was a mass of snow-ice, save on the car tracks, +they walked home. The sidewalks were slippery, +and it took some caution to keep one’s +feet; but the chums were so sure of their balance +that they stepped along quite briskly. +</p> +<p> +From Mr. Vandergriff’s store they saw a +poorly dressed little girl—perhaps eight years +old, or so—dragging a soap box on runners. +The box had several packages of groceries in it, +besides a bottle of milk. +</p> +<p> +Just as the child started across Market Street +there came a heavy sleigh with plumes, great +robes, a pair of dapple gray horses, and a great +jingling of bells. The driver did not see the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173'></a>173</span> +little girl with her box until it was almost too +late to pull out. +</p> +<p> +It all happened in a flash! The peril was upon +the child before she or anybody else realized it; +and it had passed her, only smashing her sled +and spilling her goods, in another moment. +</p> +<p> +The sleigh, with the horses prancing, swept +on and did not even stop for its occupants to +note the damage it had done. The child was +left crying in the gutter, with the groceries scattered +about and the milk making a white river +upon the dirty ice. +</p> +<p> +Laura sprang to aid the little one in picking +up her goods; but Jess exclaimed: +</p> +<p> +“Did you see that, Laura?” +</p> +<p> +“I should think I did! And they never +stopped.” +</p> +<p> +“But did you see who was in the sleigh?” +</p> +<p> +“No.” +</p> +<p> +“It was Lil—and that man was riding with +her again.” +</p> +<p> +“Pizotti?” gasped Laura. +</p> +<p> +“Yes. Here! give me that bottle. I’ll run +across and get another bottle of milk from Mr. +Vandergriff. We’ll have to help the little one +carry her stuff home. The little sled is smashed +to smithereens.” +</p> +<p> +“All right, Jess. Now, don’t cry, child!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174'></a>174</span> +exclaimed Mother Wit, kindly, hovering over the +little girl. “You won’t be blamed for this, I +know.” +</p> +<p> +But the child was staring after the sleigh instead +of picking up her goods, and with such a +wondering look on her face that Laura asked: +</p> +<p> +“What is the matter with you? What did +you see?” +</p> +<p> +The child still remained dumb, and Laura took +her by the shoulder and shook her a little. +</p> +<p> +“What is your name?” she demanded. +</p> +<p> +“Maggie,” said the little one, gulping down +a sob. +</p> +<p> +“Maggie what?” +</p> +<p> +“No, ma’am; Maggie Plornish,” stammered +the other. +</p> +<p> +“My goodness me!” gasped Laura. “Did +you see the man in that sleigh?” +</p> +<p> +“No, ma’am! No ma’am!” cried the little +girl, in great haste, and shaking her head violently. +“There warn’t no man in the sleigh.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes there was, child.” +</p> +<p> +“I didn’t see no man,” declared Maggie, energetically. +“It was the lady I seen.” +</p> +<p> +“Do you know her?” asked Laura, slowly, +convinced that the child was deceiving her—or, +at least, attempting to do so. +</p> +<p> +“No, ma’am. I never seed her before.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175'></a>175</span> +</p> +<p> +It was evidently useless to try to get anything +more out of the child on that tack. But Laura +was sure that there could not be two Plornish +families in Centerport, and if Jess had seen the +stage director in Lily Pendleton’s sleigh, it was +plain that Maggie had seen him, too. And she +had recognized him. +</p> +<p> +“Where do you live, little girl?” asked Laura, +quietly, as she saw Jess returning with a fresh +bottle of milk. +</p> +<p> +“Over ’ere on Governor Street. Number +ninety-three, Miss.” +</p> +<p> +“Lead the way, then,” said Laura, promptly. +“We’ll help you carry your things home and +explain to mamma how you came to get them +scattered. You surely have a mamma, haven’t +you?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, ma’am. And there’s a new baby. +That’s who the milk’s for.” +</p> +<p> +“Say! how many of you Plornish children +are there?” asked Jess, to whom Laura had +immediately whispered the intelligence that this +child was evidently one of Mr. Pizotti’s progeny. +</p> +<p> +“Seven, ma’am. But some’s older’n me and +they’re workin’.” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you go to school?” asked Laura. +</p> +<p> +“I can’t—not right now. We ain’t got good +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176'></a>176</span> +shoes to go ’round—nor petticoats. And then, +the baby didn’t come along until a month ago and +he has to be ’tended some while mamma washes +and cleans up around.” +</p> +<p> +Laura looked at Jess meaningly and asked: +</p> +<p> +“Where’s your papa?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! he’s home,” said the child, immediately +losing her smart manner of speaking. +</p> +<p> +“Doesn’t he work?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, ma’am. Sometimes.” +</p> +<p> +“What’s his trade?” asked Jess. +</p> +<p> +“Huh?” +</p> +<p> +Maggie Plornish had suddenly become very +dull indeed! +</p> +<p> +“Doesn’t your father work regularly?” explained +Laura, kindly. “Hasn’t he any particular +work?” +</p> +<p> +Maggie considered this thoughtfully. Then +she shook her head and with gravity replied: +“I guess he’s an outa.” +</p> +<p> +“A what?” gasped Jess. +</p> +<p> +“An outa, Miss.” +</p> +<p> +“What under the sun’s an ‘outa’?” demanded +Jess, looking at Laura. +</p> +<p> +But Mother Wit understood and smiled. +“You mean he’s ’most always out of work?” +she asked. +</p> +<p> +Maggie Plornish nodded vigorously. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177'></a>177</span> +</p> +<p> +“Yes, ma’am! He’s us’lly outa work. Most +reg’larly. Yes, ma’am!” +</p> +<p> +“Well for mercy’s sake!” gasped Jess, gazing +at her chum in wonder. “Can you beat +<em>that?</em> If this is the same family——” +</p> +<p> +Laura stayed her with a look. “We’ll see,” +said Mother Wit. “Lead on, Maggie. We’ll +see your mother, anyway.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178'></a>178</span><a name='chXXII' id='chXXII'></a>CHAPTER XXII—MRS. PLORNISH</h2> +<p> +Governor Street was just as dirty and +squalid as any other tenement-house street in +the poorer section of a middle-class city. The +street-cleaning department had given up all hope +before they reached Governor Street, and the +middle of the way was a series of ridges and +mountains of heaped-up, dirty, frozen snow. +</p> +<p> +The snow had been cleaned from the sidewalks, +and the gutters freed so that the melting +ice could run off by way of the sewers when +the sun was kind; but the way to Number 93 +was not a pleasant one to travel. +</p> +<p> +However, Laura and Jess, with little Maggie, +reached the door in question in a few minutes, +A puff of steamy air—the essence of countless +washings—met the girls as the lower door was +pushed open. That is the only way the long +and barren halls were heated—by the steam from +the wash-boilers. For Number 93 Governor +Street was one of those tenement houses which +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179'></a>179</span> +seem always to be in a state of being washed, +and laundered, and cleaned up; yet which never +show many traces of cleanliness, after all. +</p> +<p> +“We live on the top floor,” said Maggie, volunteering +her first remark since starting homeward. +</p> +<p> +“That doesn’t scare us,” said Laura, cheerfully. +“Lead on, MacDuff!” +</p> +<p> +“No. My name’s Plornish,” said this very +literal—and seemingly dull—little girl. +</p> +<p> +“Very well, Maggie MacDuff Plornish!” +laughed Mother Wit. “We follow you.” +</p> +<p> +The little girl toiled up the stairs like an old +woman. Laura and Jess caught glimpses of +other tenements as they followed the child and +saw that there was real poverty here. Jess began +to compare her situation with that of these +humble folk, and saw that she had much to +be grateful for. +</p> +<p> +She was troubled over the lack of a new +party dress, perhaps, or because there were times +when she and her mother were pinched for +money. But the bare floors and uncurtained +windows of these “flats,” with the poor furniture +and raggedly clothed children, spelled a +degree of poverty deeper than Jess Morse had +imagined before. +</p> +<p> +A sallow woman met them at the door of one +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180'></a>180</span> +of the top-floor flats. She was as faded as her +calico dress. Her arms were lean and her hands +wrinkled, and all the flesh about her finger nails +was swollen and of a livid hue, from being so +much in hot water. +</p> +<p> +Indeed, two steaming tubs stood in the +kitchen into which the girls of Central High +were ushered. A big wash was evidently under +way, and Mrs. Plornish wiped her arms and +hands from the suds, as she invited the girls in, +staring in amazement at one and another meanwhile. +</p> +<p> +“Your little Maggie met with an accident, +Mrs. Plornish,” said Laura, pleasantly, putting +the packages she had carried upon the table. +“And so we helped her home with her groceries.” +</p> +<p> +“And Mr. Vandergriff says never mind the +bottle of milk that was spilled,” explained Jess, +setting the second bottle on the table. +</p> +<p> +“You come from Mr. Vandergriff?” asked +the woman, her faded cheek coloring a trifle. +</p> +<p> +Laura explained more fully. Mrs. Plornish +seemed to have had her motherly instincts pretty +well quenched by time and poverty. +</p> +<p> +“Yes’m. I expect Maggie’ll git runned over +and killed some day on that there Market +Street,” she complained. “But I ain’t got nobody else +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181'></a>181</span> +to send. Bob and Betty, and Charlemagne, +air either at school or to work——” +</p> +<p> +“Where is your husband?” asked Laura, +briskly. “Is he working?” +</p> +<p> +“Off an’ on,” said the woman, but looking at +the visitors a little doubtfully. +</p> +<p> +“Engaged just at present?” pursued Laura. +</p> +<p> +“Look here, Miss,” said Mrs. Plornish, “air +you charity visitors? Though you <em>be</em> young.” +</p> +<p> +“We have nothing to do with charities,” +Laura said. “We just came to help Maggie. +I didn’t know but I might know of something +for your husband to do if he is out of work.” +</p> +<p> +“He ain’t. He’s got a job right now. And +I guess it will turn out to be a good one,” spoke +Mrs. Plornish, and she smiled with sudden satisfaction. +</p> +<p> +“It seems to please you, Mrs. Plornish,” said +Jess, quickly. “I hope you will not be disappointed. +Where is he working?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, this job o’ work is goin’ to take him out +o’ town for a while,” returned the woman, doubtfully. +</p> +<p> +“Indeed? To Lumberport?” asked the insistent +Jess. +</p> +<p> +“No.” +</p> +<p> +“To Keyport, then?” +</p> +<p> +“I can’t tell you. It—it’s a secret—that is, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182'></a>182</span> +it’s sort of a private affair. Abel is a very +smart man in his way—and this—er—this job +will bring him considerable money, I expect. I +hope we’ll all be better off soon.” +</p> +<p> +She seemed excited by the prospect of her +husband’s secret employment, yet she was doubtful, +too. Laura and Jess looked at each other +and they both came to the same conclusion. If +Abel Plornish, alias “Mr. Pizotti,” was scheming +to get some money from the Pendletons, +Mrs. Plornish knew at least a little something +about it. +</p> +<p> +But Laura did not know how to get this information +from the woman; nor did the girl +believe that it was really right for her to do so. +But Mother Wit thought it would do no harm to +help the family if she could do so without offending. +She drew forth her purse and looked +gently at Mrs. Plornish. +</p> +<p> +“You won’t mind if I give you something to +spend on Maggie?” asked Mother Wit, in her +most winning way. “Do let me help her, Mrs. +Plornish! I really mean no offense.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, you look an honest enough young +lady,” said the woman. +</p> +<p> +“Maggie says she needs shoes so that she can +go to school. Don’t you think you can spare +her for at least a part of the time?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183'></a>183</span> +</p> +<p> +“Mebbe I’d better, Miss. The truant officer’s +been around once,” said Mrs. Plornish. “But +the baby’s so small——” +</p> +<p> +“If your husband is as successful as you +think he’ll be,” interposed Jess, sharply, “you’ll +be able to afford to let her go, eh? Then +you will not have to work so hard yourself.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s right, Miss!” cried Mrs. Plornish, +briskly. +</p> +<p> +Laura put the money for Maggie’s shoes into +her hand. “I hope we may come and see +Maggie again?” she said, pinching the thin +cheek of the little girl, who had been staring at +them all this time, without winking, and without +a word. +</p> +<p> +“Sure you can, Miss! And thank you. Thank +the young lady, Maggie,” ordered Mrs. Plornish. +</p> +<p> +Maggie gave a funny, bobbing little courtesy +as the older girls went out. Laura and Jess said +nothing to each other until they reached the +street. Then the latter declared: +</p> +<p> +“She knows something about it.” +</p> +<p> +“About what?” asked Laura. +</p> +<p> +“Whatever it is that’s going on. Whatever +it is ‘Pizotti’ is doing.” +</p> +<p> +“And we know he is staging your play for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184'></a>184</span> +the M. O. R.’s,” said Laura, quietly. “That’s +all we <em>do</em> know at present.” +</p> +<p> +“But there’s something else.” +</p> +<p> +“That we don’t know. I wish we did.” +</p> +<p> +“And he’s going out of town!” +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps that is not so,” returned Laura, +thoughtfully. “Of course his wife knows that +he works under an assumed name. That is no +crime, of course——” +</p> +<p> +“But there’s something odd about it all,” +cried Jess. +</p> +<p> +“All right. How are we going to find out? +Lil won’t tell us——” +</p> +<p> +“And it is her business—or her mother’s,” +said Jess. “And that’s a fact.” +</p> +<p> +“She’s one of us—she’s a Central High girl,” +repeated Laura. “If we can save her from +the result of her own awful folly, we should do +so.” +</p> +<p> +“Huh! And we don’t know what she’s to be +saved from as yet!” cried Jess, which ended the +discussion for the time being. +</p> +<p> +But that evening Bobby Hargrew hailed Jess +in her father’s store. +</p> +<p> +“Say, Eminent Author! what do you know +about <em>this?</em>” +</p> +<p> +“About what, Bobby?” returned Jess. +</p> +<p> +Bobby was unfurling some sort of a folded +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185'></a>185</span> +paper which she had drawn from that inexhaustible +pocket of hers. +</p> +<p> +“See! it’s a show bill. My cousin, Ed Pembroke, +sent it to me from Keyport. He says the +town is plastered with them. Does it remind +you of anything?” and she began to read in a +loud voice: +</p> +<p> +“‘Coming! Coming! Coming! North Street Orpheum——’ same date as your show +here on Friday night, Jess.” +</p> +<p> +“I see,” said Jess, peering over her shoulder +as Bobby unctuously read on: +</p> +<p> +“‘High Class Entertainment for High Class +people!’ Ha! that’s good,” sniffed Bobby. +“‘The Lady of the Castle’ played by a capable +cast of professional Thespians, who will assist +the Talented Young Amateur, GREBA PENDENNIS. +‘Her portrayal of the <em>Duchess</em> is a +Work of Art.’ Wow, wow! Listen to that +now!” cried Bobby, in great delight. “Wouldn’t +you think that was Lil Pendleton?” +</p> +<p> +Jess stared at the bill, and whispered: “I +would indeed.” +</p> +<p> +“But of course it isn’t!” gasped Bobby, looking +at Jess, in sudden curiosity. +</p> +<p> +“What is Lil’s middle name?” demanded +Jess, suddenly. +</p> +<p> +“Why—I—— Ah! she <em>has</em> got a middle +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186'></a>186</span> +name, hasn’t she? She signs it ‘Lillian G. Pendleton!’” +</p> +<p> +“That is it,” said Jess. +</p> +<p> +“But of course this can’t be Lil?” cried +Bobby, aghast. “‘The Lady of the Castle’ +might be another name for ‘The Duchess of +Doosenberry’; though. What do you think, +Jess?” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know what to think,” said Jess. +“But you give me that bill, Bobby, and I’ll show +it to Mother Wit.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187'></a>187</span><a name='chXXIII' id='chXXIII'></a>CHAPTER XXIII—“CAUGHT ON THE FLY”</h2> +<p> +The last few days before the first performance +of “The Spring Road” was a whirl of excitement +for most of the girls of Central High, +and all those belonging to the M. O. R.’s. or who +were to take part in the play. Mr. Sharp, on his +own responsibility, announced a general holiday +for Friday, with certain lessons to be made up +to pay for the deducted time. +</p> +<p> +“It is my opinion that little work can be expected +from either the young ladies or young +gentlemen on the momentous day,” he said. +“Besides, I understand that Miss Gould desires +to have a final rehearsal of the play on Friday +morning on the stage upstairs. Therefore, mere +matters of education may be put aside.” +</p> +<p> +He was quite good natured about it, however, +and entirely approved of the attempt of Central +High pupils to do something upon the stage that +was really “worth while.” And Jess Morse’s +play was indeed far above the average of amateur +attempts. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188'></a>188</span> +</p> +<p> +“You girls are invited to a dash on the <em>Blue +Streak</em> after the rehearsal to-morrow, Sis,” Chet +Belding said to Laura at dinner Thursday evening. +“Lance and I will show you some sport.” +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Belding looked doubtfully at her husband. +“Do you think that iceboat Chet has +built is really safe for the girls, James?” she +asked. +</p> +<p> +“Bless your heart, Mother!” returned the +jeweler, his eyes twinkling, “it’s quite as safe +for Laura and Jess as it is for the boys.” +</p> +<p> +“Ye—es, I suppose so,” admitted the good +woman. “But it doesn’t <em>seem</em> so safe. Girls +are different from boys.” +</p> +<p> +“Not so different, nowadays,” grumbled +Chet. “You ought to see some of those husky +Central High girls going off with Mrs. Case +on their skis. And ski running is as dangerous +as iceboating—believe me!” +</p> +<p> +“I <em>do</em> believe you, my son. I have no reason +to doubt your word,” returned Mother Belding, +quietly. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Mum! that’s only an expression——” +</p> +<p> +“Please stick to English—and facts, Chetwood,” +advised his mother. +</p> +<p> +“I declare!” grumpily remarked her son. “A +meal of victuals at this house has got to be just +like attending one of Old Dimple’s lectures.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189'></a>189</span> +</p> +<p> +“Chet!” spoke his father, sternly. +</p> +<p> +“Well! I guess I didn’t mean it just that +way—not the way it sounded,” the boy said +hastily. “But mother <em>does</em> pick a fellow up +so——” +</p> +<p> +“I have been doing that all your life, my +son,” said his mother. “Whenever you stub +your toe, mother has been there to comfort +you.” +</p> +<p> +“Got you there, Chet,” laughed Laura. “And +you used to be a terrible ‘stumble heels,’ +too.” +</p> +<p> +“Say! you’re all down on me,” declared her +brother, but in a milder tone. “I reckon I’m +not so popular in this house as I thought I was. +But that isn’t the answer to my question, Laura. +Do you and Jess want to fly with us to-morrow +just after lunch?” +</p> +<p> +“Of course we do,” replied his sister. “I +don’t suppose mother has any real objection?” +</p> +<p> +“My objections to your sports and athletics +seem to have very little reality about them, children,” +said Mrs. Belding. “Even my husband +will not give me backing.” +</p> +<p> +“When I see Chet and Laura anemic, or +otherwise sickly, as the result of their out-of-door +sports or gym. work, you will find me up in +arms with you against such activities, Mother,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190'></a>190</span> +declared Mr. Belding, jovially. “I’d a good +deal rather have little Mother Wit here half a +Tom-boy——” +</p> +<p> +“Which I’m not, I hope, Papa Belding!” +cried Laura, quickly. +</p> +<p> +“I should hope not,” said her mother. +</p> +<p> +“All right,” laughed Mr. Belding. “But I +would rather you were than like a few of the +girls who attend your school. Some of them +are growing up to womanhood too quickly to +suit me. There’s that Pendleton girl——” +</p> +<p> +“What do you know about Lily Pendleton, +Father?” asked Laura, quickly. +</p> +<p> +“Why, she dresses like a girl of twenty-five—and +acts that grown up, too,” observed the +jeweler. “She was in the store a week or so +ago. Now! there’s another bad thing. Her +mother lets her do just about as she pleases, I +guess.” +</p> +<p> +“Mrs. Pendleton has always been very lenient +with Lillian,” agreed his wife. +</p> +<p> +“The girl brought into my store a jewel box +in which were things valued at more than a thousand +dollars, I believe. Old-fashioned jewels +left her by her grandmother. She thought of +having some re-set And she really wanted me +to buy some of them. She said her mother +wouldn’t care what she did with them.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191'></a>191</span> +</p> +<p> +“Of course, James, you did not give the girl +money?” exclaimed Mrs. Belding. +</p> +<p> +“Of course I did not! I am not a pawnbroker. +But I valued the stones for her, and +she took them away. I wonder what she really +meant by trying to sell them?” +</p> +<p> +Laura listened and flushed; but she remained +silent. Since her visit to the Plornish tenement, +and since she had read the playbill from Keyport +that Jess had brought her, Laura had been very +gravely exercised in her mind regarding Lily +Pendleton. But she could not bring herself to +the point of taking either her father or mother +into her confidence. It was not her own secret; +it was Lily’s. +</p> +<p> +The following morning the rehearsal of “The +Spring Road” went with a snap and vim that +delighted everybody. Miss Gould could not +praise the girls and boys too highly. Even Mr. +Pizotti signified his satisfaction with the way in +which the play proceeded. Really, the actual +production of the piece would go on well without +his presence, although the sum they had +agreed to pay the stage manager covered the +three performances of the play already arranged +for. +</p> +<p> +Laura and Jess went down to the lake after +luncheon to meet the two boys. The <em>Blue</em> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192'></a>192</span> +<em>Streak</em>, fresh in a new coat of paint, and with +every part of the mechanism guaranteed in perfect +order, was already hauled out upon the ice. +</p> +<p> +The surface of the lake was not as it had been +when the girls had taken their first ride on the +aero-iceboat. Then the ice was like glass; but +now it was pebbly, broken in spots, and not a +little “hummocky.” There was a stiff wind +blowing, too, and this broke up the thinner ice +around the water-holes. The course for sleighs +and for iceboats was fairly safe, however, all +the way to Keyport. +</p> +<p> +“Say! we just saw Lily going driving with +that sleek little foreigner,” said Lance, as the +two girls appeared. “I should think Mrs. Pendleton +would send a chaperone with her daughter. +Old Mike, the coachman, is right under the +girl’s thumb.” +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean, Lance?” asked Laura, +quickly. +</p> +<p> +“Why, Lil Pendleton and the stage manager +are out there in the Pendletons’ sleigh. They’re +aiming for Keyport. And Lil has a big box in +the sleigh. Guess they are taking lunch along.” +</p> +<p> +“Lunch!” ejaculated Chet. “Why, that yellow +box would hold enough for an army.” +</p> +<p> +“My goodness me! A yellow box?” cried +Jess. “Was it that box in which Lil has been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193'></a>193</span> +bringing her costumes to and from the rehearsals?” +</p> +<p> +“Dunno,” said Chet, not much interested. +</p> +<p> +But Jess turned to her chum, eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“You know, Laura, she insisted in packing +the dresses all into that box again this noon and +taking them home with her as usual, although +every other girl left her costume in the dressing-rooms. +Did you notice it?” +</p> +<p> +“No,” said Laura, slowly. +</p> +<p> +“Maybe she doesn’t expect to get back until +it’s time to go on for the evening performance,” +suggested Lance. +</p> +<p> +“That’s not it,” returned Laura, quietly. +</p> +<p> +“What do you suppose that girl has got in +her mind, Laura?” demanded Jess, as the boys +were making the final preparations for their +start. +</p> +<p> +“I do not know. But I believe she is the +‘talented young amateur’ advertised to appear +at the Keyport Orpheum to-night,” said Laura, +gravely. +</p> +<p> +“You don’t mean it!” gasped Jess. Then +she added, with sudden excitement: +</p> +<p> +“Why, she’ll spoil my play!” +</p> +<p> +“If she is not here to play her part she will +certainly interfere sadly with the success of ‘The +Spring Road,’” admitted Laura. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194'></a>194</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, oh! That mean, mean thing!” cried +Jess, under her breath. +</p> +<p> +“She is taking her costumes to wear in the +production of her own play, which she has renamed +‘The Lady of the Castle,’” said Laura. +“She will make a lovely ‘Duchess of Doosenberry,’ +as Bobby nicknamed it, in those robes, +Jess.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, Laura, I believe you are not sympathetic,” +cried Jess. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you be afraid, dear. Miss Lily will +not appear as ‘the talented young amateur, Greba +Pendennis,’ if that is what she really intends to +attempt. I have fixed that.” +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean?” demanded Jess. But +just then the boys shouted to them and they had +to hurry to take their places in the iceboat +</p> +<p> +“Chet,” said Laura, to her brother, as she +settled herself aboard, “run down near the Pendleton +sleigh if you can. I want to speak to +Lil.” +</p> +<p> +“Just as you say, Sis,” returned her brother. +“All ready? Let her go, Lance! We’ll show +these girls some traveling, eh?” +</p> +<p> +The <em>Blue Streak</em> was off in a moment and the +way she tore over the ice always gave the two +girls, at first, a feeling as though a wreck were +imminent. But in a minute or two the feeling +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195'></a>195</span> +subsided, and through the automobile goggles +they both wore they dared look ahead. +</p> +<p> +On this cold afternoon there were not many +sleighs or iceboats on the racing course between +Centerport and Keyport. But suddenly Lance +looked around, grinned through his mask, and +waved his hand toward the shore. The girls +immediately knew that he had sighted the Pendleton +sleigh. +</p> +<p> +Laura turned to look at her brother, and he +nodded at her reassuringly. Lance reduced the +speed, and the <em>Blue Streak</em> began to move shoreward. +</p> +<p> +The girls could now see the sleigh plainly. +The yellow box in which Lil carried her costumes +was a splotch of color against the white +fur robes. And there was Lil herself and the +black figure of the little stage director. +</p> +<p> +The <em>Blue Streak</em> ran closer and of a sudden +the young folks aboard the iceboat saw that +something was amiss with the Pendletons’ +horses. The dapple grays were fat, well fed +beasts, and the coachman was old and rheumatic. +Perhaps the appearance of another iceboat that +had just passed the sleigh had startled the horses. +</p> +<p> +However that might be, old Mike was suddenly +flung from his seat, and the horses charged +down the lake at a gallop, swinging the sleigh +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196'></a>196</span> +behind them at a pace that threatened to overturn +it at any moment! +</p> +<p> +The four friends on the aero-iceboat could +hear Lil scream. And up sprang the little black +figure of Pizotti, alias Plornish, and the next +moment he had leaped to the ice! +</p> +<p> +The horses tore on, and Lil was really in peril. +But Chet guided the <em>Blue Streak</em> right down to +the runaway, coming so close that Lance Darby +was able to leap into the driver’s seat from the +running iceboat. +</p> +<p> +It was a feat that called for agility and coolness; +but the boy did it bravely. The next moment +he was out on the tongue, had recovered +the trailing lines, and the dapple grays were soon +brought to an abrupt stop. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197'></a>197</span><a name='chXXIV' id='chXXIV'></a>CHAPTER XXIV—THE GREAT NIGHT</h2> +<p> +The event had certainly come to a startling +climax. Even Lily herself, writing a dozen +“Duchess of Dawnleighs,” could not have imagined +quite so serious a situation to balk the determination +of her created heroines, as here had +arrived to balk herself! +</p> +<p> +“Well, Lil,” Laura said to her, as the girl got +out of the sleigh. “I guess you won’t run away +to-day and leave us all in a fix—and spoil Jess’s +play. What do you think?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Laura! is poor Mike hurt?” cried the +girl, and from that moment Laura thought better +of her. For Lil showed she was not entirely +heartless. She had thought first of the old +coachman who had served her family for so +many years, and who was even then probably +helping her to get to Keyport and the expected +performance of “The Duchess of Dawnleigh,” +against his own good sense. +</p> +<p> +“Here he comes, limping,” said Laura, rather +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198'></a>198</span> +brusquely. “He’s not dead. But how about +Plornish?” +</p> +<p> +“Plornish?” returned Lil, puzzled. +</p> +<p> +“Pizotti, then, if you prefer his stage name.” +</p> +<p> +“Is—isn’t Pizotti his name?” demanded Lil, +still struggling with her tears. +</p> +<p> +“His real name is Abel Plornish,” said Laura, +bluntly. She saw no use in “letting Lily down +easy.” “He has a wife and seven children living +down on Governor Street, in a miserable +tenement. He neglects them a good deal, I believe. +But this time, if he had made what he +expected to out of you——By the way, Lil, +what were you going to pay him?” +</p> +<p> +“I—I——For putting me on the stage with +his company?” she stammered. +</p> +<p> +“Is that the way he put it? Well, yes,” said +Laura. “It’s the same thing. He was going +to star you in your own play, was he?” +</p> +<p> +“Ye—es,” sobbed Lily. “And now it’s all +spoiled! And I was going to take all the money +I pawned grandmother’s jewels for——” +</p> +<p> +“Goodness me! How much?” snapped +Laura. +</p> +<p> +“Five hundred dollars.” +</p> +<p> +“Has he got the cash?” +</p> +<p> +“No,” sobbed Lil. +</p> +<p> +“All right, then. No harm done. I went to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199'></a>199</span> +Mr. Monterey and he found out that Plornish +had got together no company at all. You were +the only person who had learned a part in your +play, I guess, Lily. Ah! Chet’s got him.” +</p> +<p> +Indeed, Chet had stopped the aero-iceboat +and run back to the prostrate stage director. +Plornish had a broken leg and had to be lifted +by both boys into the Pendleton sleigh. Old +Michael could manage the horses again and +turned them about. Laura elected to go back to +Centerport with the injured man and the very-much-disturbed +Lily Pendleton. +</p> +<p> +“Now, just see the sort of a man this fellow +is,” said Laura, paying no attention to the groanings +of Plornish, “He was intending to get +the money from you at Keyport and then disappear. +All he spent was merely for the bills put +up advertising the show—the show which he +never intended would come off, Lil! And you +were going down there and leaving us all in the +lurch!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I’m sorry!” groaned Lil. +</p> +<p> +“I hope so. Sorry enough to go home and +rest and prepare to play your part in ‘The Spring +Road’ to-night,” spoke Laura, tartly. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, dear me! how can I?” cried the girl. +</p> +<p> +“If you don’t,” said Laura, frankly, “I won’t +keep this affair a secret. You will be the laughing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200'></a>200</span> +stock of all Central High. I am not going +to allow Jess Morse’s play to be spoiled because +of <em>you</em>. If you were so jealous and envious +that you did not want to see Jess’s play succeed, +you could have refused, at least, to be cast for an +important part in it. And now,” went on +Mother Wit, firmly, “you are going to play that +part.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Laura! you are so harsh,” sobbed Lily. +</p> +<p> +“Much that will hurt you!” sniffed Laura. +“We’ll drive around by the hospital and leave +this Plornish man. If he dares to open his +mouth, we’ll have him punished for trying to +swindle you,” and Laura looked sternly at the +black-eyed, foreign-looking fellow. +</p> +<p> +“You see, we know all about you, Mr. Plornish, +and you will have to abide by what is done +for you. Some of us will help your family while +you are helpless. But you’ve got to be good, or +even Mr. Vandergriff will forget that you and +he used to be boys together. Pah! with your +hair dye, and paint and powder, and all! Why, +you are nearly fifty years old, so Mr. Vandergriff +says, and you act and dress like a silly boy.” +</p> +<p> +Lily listened to all this, and stopped sobbing. +She began to see that there was a chance for her +to escape being a butt for her school-fellows’ +jokes. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201'></a>201</span> +</p> +<p> +“Can—can you keep Jess and the boys from +talking?” she whispered to Laura. +</p> +<p> +“They’ll be like oysters if I tell them to,” declared +Mother Wit. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, then, I’ll do my best,” agreed the foolish +girl. Possibly she was deeply impressed by +her escape. +</p> +<p> +Mother Wit’s plans were carried out to the letter. +Plornish was deposited at the hospital, +where he would remain for some weeks. The +performance of Jess’s play would have to get +along without him on this opening night. +</p> +<p> +And when the hour for the performance arrived, +Lily Pendleton was ready, her tears wiped +away, glorious in one of her costumes, and +“preening like a peacock”—to quote Bobby +Hargrew—before one of the long mirrors in the +dressing room. +</p> +<p> +“My, my!” laughed Bobby. “You look as +grand as the Duchess of Doosenberry, don’t you, +Lil?” +</p> +<p> +Lily looked at her rather sharply. “I’d really +like to know how much that child knows?” the +older girl murmured. +</p> +<p> +But it wasn’t what the shrewd Bobby <em>knew;</em> +it was what she <em>suspected!</em> +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202'></a>202</span><a name='chXXV' id='chXXV'></a>CHAPTER XXV—GOOD NEWS FOR JESS</h2> +<p> +Behind the scenes just before the curtain rose +upon the first act of “The Spring Road” there +was such a bustle, and running about, and whispering, +and excited signals and fragmentary talk, +that it did look, Jess said, as though matters +never would be straightened out. +</p> +<p> +Did this one know his or her part perfectly? +Was this dress right? Oh, dear! how can this +one be made to look right “from the front?” +And a thousand other doubts and queries. +</p> +<p> +No matter how many times a play is rehearsed, +it does seem just before the opening +performance as though a dozen things would +happen to spoil the effect of the first appearance. +And to the author of the play it seems as though +every person in that audience is a carping critic! +</p> +<p> +Jess peered through the peephole in the curtain +and saw that the hall was crowded. +</p> +<p> +“I just know it will be a failure!” she moaned +to her chum, Laura Belding. “It will be +laughed at. I feel it!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203'></a>203</span> +</p> +<p> +“Strange how I should feel so differently!” +spoke Laura, cheerfully. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, dear! I’ll never be able to hold up my +head again if it’s not liked,” Jess pursued. “It +will just <em>kill</em> me.” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t die so easy, Chum,” said Laura. +“You know we’ll need you in the big inter-school +meet after Easter.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! I’ll never be fit to do anything in athletics +again!” gasped Jess. +</p> +<p> +Which was certainly not borne out by the +facts, for Jess Morse took a most important part +in the spring meet of the Girls’ Branch Athletic +League, as a perusal of the next volume of this +series: “The Girls of Central High on Track +and Field; Or, The Champions of the School +League,” will prove. +</p> +<p> +At last Miss Gould said all was ready. Really, +she did very well without the assistance of the +unpleasant, black-eyed, little Pizotti! The signal +was given and the curtain rose on the first +tableau—and it <em>was</em> a pretty sight! In this +allegorical introduction to Jess’s play there +were a score of the very prettiest girls of Central +High, and they had been dressed and were +grouped so artistically that an “Ah!” of admiration +burst from the big audience. +</p> +<p> +The little fantasy unwound the thread of plot +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204'></a>204</span> +which introduced the real play; but when the +curtain went down there was no enthusiastic applause. +The audience was expectant; but did +not wholly understand it. And this was as it +should be; the intent of that little prologue +was merely to whet the appetite for the real +play. +</p> +<p> +“The Spring Road” ran its three acts through +with unvarying success. The applause grew +more pronounced; the interest of the audience +grew deeper. The fact that a young girl had +written the text of the play became harder and +harder to believe as the evening lengthened. +</p> +<p> +At the end—when the general lights went out, +one by one upon the stage and left the two principal +characters in the radiance of the spot light +alone—and when this dimmed slowly and finally +went out, the silence of the audience was momentous. +</p> +<p> +Jess, in the wings, clinging to her chum, +waited, scarcely breathing, for the verdict. Had +it failed? Had the little lesson she had tried +to teach, and the pretty story she had told, failed +to “get over?” +</p> +<p> +Suddenly there was a roar of delight from the +back of the hall. Some of the older boys of +Central High had managed to get tickets to this +first performance, and, led by big Griff, they began +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205'></a>205</span> +to chant the well-known yell of Central +High. +</p> +<p> +But <em>that</em> was not what Jess waited for. That +was school loyalty. She had expected that. +</p> +<p> +As the thunder of the boys’ applause began +to wane there was another sound which reached +the ears of those listening behind the curtain. +A steady, sharp clapping of hands; then joined +by a shuffling of feet. The great mass of the +audience was applauding. +</p> +<p> +The curtain went up, and the whole company +appeared. It rose and rose again, at last to display +only the principals, down to the final two who +had closed the play. But that was not enough. +</p> +<p> +They could hear Dr. Agnew’s heavy voice +growling somewhere out in the darkness of the +auditorium: +</p> +<p> +“Author! Author! Bring her out!” +</p> +<p> +The boys took up the demand. They even +called on Jess Morse by name, and hitched that +name to the battle cry of their athletic field. +</p> +<p> +“You’ve got to go!” cried Laura, giving her +chum a push. “You’ve got to, Jess!” +</p> +<p> +And so Jess Morse stepped forward, modestly, +bashfully, and faced the great audience. Tears +half blinded her, but she bowed as she had been +taught. And all the time she tasted the first +intoxicating draught of Fame! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206'></a>206</span> +</p> +<p> +But that was not quite the end of it all. Mr. +Monterey, of the Centerport Opera House, was +in a seat down in front that evening. He never +was seen to applaud once; but on Saturday evening, +when the play was repeated for the general +public to attend, he came again and this time +brought a stranger who paid quite as close +attention to Jess’s play as did Mr. Monterey +himself. +</p> +<p> +After the performance and before Jess and +Laura started for home with their escorts, they +heard that the stranger with the local manager +was a very famous New York producer. He +had come especially to see “The Spring Road.” +</p> +<p> +And when Jess arrived home she found the +gentleman, with Mr. Monterey, conferring with +her mother in their little sitting room. +</p> +<p> +“I assure you,” said Mrs. Morse, proudly, +“the play is practically Josephine’s own work. +It is her idea, clothed in her own language. I +am pleased that you find it so admirable for a +child to have written——” +</p> +<p> +“It is admirable—in spots—for anybody to +have written,” said the New York gentleman. +“And this is the young lady?” +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Morse introduced Jess. +</p> +<p> +“You are the budding playwright?” suggested +the stranger. +</p> +<p> +“I am not so sure of that,” replied Jess, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207'></a>207</span> +troubled a little. “I wanted the prize Mrs. +Kerrick offered, and I did my best.” +</p> +<p> +“And your best is very good—remarkably +good,” declared the producer. “I have come to +see you and your mother about it. I want you +to let me have the right to produce the play. +Monday I will come with a contract; meanwhile +I want Mrs. Morse to accept this check—which +Mr. Monterey will endorse for me—to bind the +agreement. I take a sort of option on the play, +as it were,” he said, and he handed the check to +Jess. +</p> +<p> +“You do not mean it?” gasped the girl. +</p> +<p> +“I certainly do,” said the other, rising. +“Your play is not like the work of a professional +playwright; but a professional writer of plays +can take your work and whip it into shape——And +I am willing to show my confidence in its +final success by risking that sum upon it to start +with.” +</p> +<p> +Jess looked then at the check. It was another +two hundred dollars. Jess shut her eyes tight +for a moment; then she opened them again to be +sure she was not dreaming. +</p> +<p> +When she opened them she really believed she +saw Poverty fly out of the window! +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p>THE END</p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +<span style='font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'>THE JANICE DAY SERIES</span> +</p> +<p> +By HELEN BEECHER LONG +</p> +<p> +<em>12 mo, cloth, illustrated, and colored jacket</em> +</p> +<p> +A series of books for girls which have been +uniformly successful. Janice Day is a character +that will live long in juvenile fiction. Every volume +is full of inspiration. There is an abundance of +humor, quaint situations, and worth-while effort, +and likewise plenty of plot and mystery. +</p> +<p> +An ideal series for girls from nine to sixteen. +</p> +<p> + JANICE DAY, THE YOUNG HOMEMAKER<br /> + JANICE DAY AT POKETOWN<br /> + THE TESTING OF JANICE DAY<br /> + HOW JANICE DAY WON<br /> + THE MISSION OF JANICE DAY<br /> +</p> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +<span style='font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'>THE NAN SHERWOOD SERIES</span> +</p> +<p> +By Annie Roe Carr +</p> +<p> +<em>12 mo, cloth, illustrated, and colored jacket</em> +</p> +<p> +In Annie Roe Carr we have found a young woman +of wide experience among girls—in schoolroom, in +camp and while traveling. She knows girls of to-day +thoroughly—their likes and dislikes—and +knows that they demand almost as much action as +do the boys. And she knows humor—good, clean +fun and plenty of it. +</p> +<p> + NAN SHERWOOD AT PINE CAMP<br /> + or The Old Lumberman’s Secret<br /> + <br/> + NAN SHERWOOD AT LAKEVIEW HALL<br /> + or The Mystery of the Haunted Boathouse<br /> + <br/> + NAN SHERWOOD’S WINTER HOLIDAYS<br /> + or Rescuing the Runaways<br /> + <br/> + NAN SHERWOOD AT ROSE RANCH<br /> + or The Old Mexican’s Treasure<br /> + <br/> + NAN SHERWOOD AT PALM BEACH<br /> + or Strange Adventures Among the Orange Groves<br /> +</p> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Girls of Central High on the Stage, by +Gertrude W. Morrison + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GIRLS OF CENTRAL HIGH *** + +***** This file should be named 37303-h.htm or 37303-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/3/0/37303/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from images made available by the HathiTrust +Digital Library.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/37303-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg b/37303-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a9ac728 --- /dev/null +++ b/37303-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg diff --git a/37303.txt b/37303.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8d0cb28 --- /dev/null +++ b/37303.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5652 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Girls of Central High on the Stage, by +Gertrude W. Morrison + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Girls of Central High on the Stage + The Play That Took The Prize + +Author: Gertrude W. Morrison + +Release Date: September 3, 2011 [EBook #37303] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GIRLS OF CENTRAL HIGH *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from images made available by the HathiTrust +Digital Library.) + + + + + + +[Illustration: AND SO JESS MORSE STEPPED FORWARD, BASHFULLY, AND FACED +THE AUDIENCE--_Page_ 205] + + The Girls + of Central High + on the Stage + + OR + + The Play That Took The Prize + + BY + + GERTRUDE W. MORRISON + + Author of The Girls of Central High, + The Girls of Central High on Lake Luna, + Etc. + + _ILLUSTRATED_ + + THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO. + CLEVELAND--NEW YORK + + Made in U. S. A. + + + + + Copyright, 1914, by + GROSSET & DUNLAP + + Press of + THE COMMERCIAL BOOKBINDING CO. + Cleveland + + + + + CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + I What the M. O. R.'s Needed 1 + II What Josephine Morse Needed 9 + III What Mr. Chumley Needed 18 + IV What Mrs. Prentice Needed 28 + V There is a General Need 34 + VI It All Comes Out 40 + VII The Hand Held Out 50 + VIII The Race Is On 60 + IX A Skating Party 70 + X The Mid-Term Examination 80 + XI Missing 87 + XII Counsel for the Defense 95 + XIII A Way is Opened 104 + XIV In Suspense 113 + XV A Mile a Minute 121 + XVI "Just Like a Story Book" 128 + XVII Lily Pendleton Is Dissatisfied 139 + XVIII The Ski Runners 146 + XIX The First Dress Rehearsal 153 + XX "Mr. Pizotti" 160 + XXI Mother Wit Puts Two and Two Together 170 + XXII Mrs. Plornish 178 + XXIII "Caught on the Fly" 187 + XXIV The Great Night 197 + XXV Good News for Jess 202 + + + + +THE GIRLS OF CENTRAL HIGH ON THE STAGE + + + + +CHAPTER I--WHAT THE M. O. R.'S NEEDED + + +The M. O. R. house was alight from cellar to garret. It was the first +big reception of the winter and followed closely the end of the first +basketball trophy series and the football game between the Central High +team and that of West High. + +The M. O. R. was the only girls' secret society countenanced by Franklin +Sharp, the principal of Central High. Until you belonged to it you never +knew what the three initials stood for; after you were lucky enough to +belong, the name of the society became such a deep and dark mystery that +you never dared whisper it, even to your very closest "spoon." + +Therefore, in all probability, we shall never learn just what "M. O. R." +stands for. + +Among the boys of Central High, their sisters and the other girls +belonging to the secret society were spoken of as "Mothers of the +Republic." But the boys were only jealous. They were entirely shut out +of the doings of the M. O. R.'s, which long antedated the Girls' Branch +Athletic League; the boys never were allowed within the sacred precincts +of the "House" save on the occasion of the special reception at Easter. + +The house was a narrow slice of brownstone front in the middle of a +block of similar dwellings, within sight of the schoolhouse, and in the +Hill section of Centerport. The Hill was supposed to be very exclusive, +and rents were high. And the rental of the thirteen-foot slice of +brownstone had become a serious problem to the Board of Governors of the +M. O. R. + +Some M. O. R.'s had gone to college, many of them had married, some had +moved many, many miles away from Centerport. But most of them remembered +tenderly the first school society of which they had been members. The +alumnae were loyal to M. O. R. + +And some of the alumnae were on the present Board of Governors, and +were--on this reception night--discussing seriously with the more active +members of the board the financial state of the society. The owner of +the house had notified them of a raise in rent for the coming year to an +absolutely impossible figure. The M. O. R.'s must look for new quarters. + +"If we could only interest the pupils of Central High, as a whole, +members and those who are not in the M. O. R.," sighed Mrs. Mabel +Kerrick. + +The presence of this widowed lady, daughter of one of the wealthiest men +in Centerport, and an alumna of the school, upon the Board of Governors +of the M. O. R. needs an explanation that must be deferred. + +"I don't see how we can interest the boys--they only make fun," said a +very bright looking girl sitting upon the other side of the room, and +beside another very bright looking girl who looked so much like her +(they were dressed just alike) that unless one had seen her lips move +one could never have told whether Dora Lockwood, or Dorothy Lockwood, +had spoken. + +"And how are you going to interest the girls who haven't been asked to +join the M. O. R.--and are not likely to be asked?" demanded the other +twin. "The very exclusiveness of the society makes it impossible for us +to call upon the school in general for help." + +"Just raise the fees and we can pay the higher rent," remarked another +girl, briskly. + +"And then, at the end of next year, Mr. Chumley will raise it again. He +owns more rentable property than any other man on the Hill, and just as +soon as he is sure his tenant is settled he begins to put up the rent on +him," observed a fourth girl. + +"That is just it," Mrs. Kerrick responded, slowly. "The society should +not pay rent. We should own our own house. We should build. We should +raise a goodly sum of money this winter toward the building fund. But we +must find some method of interesting everybody in our need. + +"A membership in the M. O. R. has always been a reward of merit. +Freshmen cannot, of course, be 'touched' for the M. O. R., and few +sophomores attain that enviable eminence. But by the time a girl has +reached her senior year at Central High it is her own fault if she is +not a member. + +"Therefore, the girls of the younger classes should be interested in the +stability of the society, irrespective of whether they are members yet, +or not. And naturally, if the girls are interested, they can interest +their brothers and their parents." + +"Suppose, Mrs. Kerrick, a girl hasn't any brothers?" demurely asked a +quiet girl in the corner. + +"Very well, then, Nellie Agnew!" said the lady, laughing. "You go and +interest some other girl's brother. But we haven't heard from little +Mother Wit," added Mrs. Kerrick, turning suddenly to a pretty, plump +girl, all in brown and with shining hair and eyes, who sat by herself at +the far end of the room. "Haven't you a thing to say, Laura Belding?" + +"Won't it be a little difficult," asked the girl addressed, diffidently, +"to invent anything that will interest everybody in the building fund of +the M. O. R.?" + +"That's what we're all saying, Laura," said one of the other members of +the Board. "Now you invent something!" + +"You give me a hard task," laughed the brown girl. "Of course, all +members--both active and graduate--will be interested for their +membership's sake. The problem is, then, in addition, to interest, +first, the girls who _may_ be members, and, second, the boys and general +public who can never be members of the M. O. R." + +"Logically put, Laura," urged Mrs. Kerrick. "Then what?" + +"Why wouldn't a play fill the bill?" asked Laura. "Offer a prize for an +original play written by a girl of Central High, irrespective of class +or whether she is an M. O. R. or not--that will interest the girls in +general. Have the play presented by boys and girls of the school--that +will hold the boys. And the parents and general public can help by +paying to see the performance." + +The younger members of the committee looked at one another doubtfully; +but Mrs. Kerrick clapped her hands enthusiastically. + +"A play! The very thing! And Mr. Sharp will approve that, no doubt. We +will appoint him chief of the committee to decide upon the play. And we +will offer a prize big enough to make it worth while for every girl to +try her best to produce a good one." + +"But that prize must be deducted from the profits of the performance," +objected the practical Nellie Agnew. + +"No," replied Mrs. Kerrick, promptly. "That will be my gift. _I_ will +offer the prize--two hundred dollars--for the best play submitted before +New Year's. How is that? Do you think it will 'take'? Come, Laura, does +your inventive genius approve of that suggestion?" + +"I think it is very lovely of you, Mrs. Kerrick," cried Mother Wit. "Oh, +my! Two hundred dollars! It is magnificent. Let us find Mr. Sharp at +once and see if he approves. He is still in the house, I know," and at +her suggestion somebody was sent to hunt for the principal of Central +High, who was one of the guests of honor of the M. O. R. on this +particular evening. + +Centerport was a lively, wealthy inland city situated on the shore of +Lake Luna, and boasting three high schools within its precincts. The new +building of Central High was much finer and larger than the East and +West Highs, and there was considerable rivalry between the girls of the +three schools, not only in athletic matters, but in all other affairs. +Out of school hours, basketball and other athletics had pretty well +filled the minds of the girls of Central High; and Laura Belding and her +particular chums had been as active in these inter-school athletics as +any. + +In fact, it was Mother Wit, as her friends and schoolmates called Laura, +who interested Colonel Richard Swayne, Mrs. Kerrick's father, in the +matter of girls' athletics and so made possible for the girls of Central +High the finest athletic field and gymnasium in the State. + +Incidentally she had interested Mrs. Kerrick in the girls of Central +High, too, and reminded the widowed lady that she was an alumna and a +member of the M. O. R. In her renewed interest in the affairs of the +secret society and in the Girls' Branch Athletic League, Mrs. Kerrick +had become very different from the almost helpless invalid first +introduced to the reader in the first volume of this series, entitled +"The Girls of Central High; Or, Rivals for All Honors." + +In that first volume was related the establishment of athletics for +girls at Central High, and introduced Laura Belding and her especial +chums in their school trials and triumphs. In the second volume, "The +Girls of Central High on Lake Luna; Or, The Crew That Won," were +narrated the summer aquatic sports of the same group of girls and their +boy friends. + +"The Girls of Central High at Basketball; Or, The Great Gymnasium +Mystery," the third volume of the series, told of the girls when they +had become juniors and related the struggle of the rival basketball +teams of the three Centerport highs, and the high schools of Keyport and +Lumberport, at either end of Lake Luna, for the trophy cup. That series +of games had just been finished and Central High had won the trophy, +when Laura and her friends, as members of the M. O. R., are again +introduced to the reader's notice at the opening of this chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER II--WHAT JOSEPHINE MORSE NEEDED + + +In spite of the bright lights illuminating the windows of the M. O. R. +house--and many other larger and finer houses at that end of Whiffle +Street--outside it was dark and dreary enough. Especially was this so at +the "poverty-stricken end," as Josephine Morse called her section of the +street. Jess and her widowed mother lived on the fringe of the wealthy +Hill district, where Whiffle Street develops an elbow, suddenly becomes +narrow, and debouches upon Market Street. + +It was raining, too. Not an honest, splashing downpour, but a drizzling, +half-hearted rain that drifted about the streets as though ashamed of +itself, leaving a deposit of slime on all the crosswalks, and making the +corner street-lamps weep great tears. The gas-lamps, too, seemed in a +fog and struggled feebly against the blackness of the evening. + +Under a huge umbrella which snuffed her almost like a candle, Jess had +made her way into Market Street and to Mr. Closewick's grocery store +near the corner. She carried a basket on her arm and she had given the +clerk rather a long list of necessary things, although she had studied +to make the quantities as modest as possible. The clerk had put them all +up now and packed them into the basket and stood expectantly with the +list checked off in his hand. + +"Two dollars and seven cents, Miss Jess," he said. + +"I'll have to ask you to add that to our bill," said the girl, flushing. +"Mother is short of money just now." + +"Wait a moment, Miss Jess; I'll speak to Mr. Closewick," said the clerk, +seemingly as much embarrassed as the girl herself, and he stepped +hastily toward the glass-enclosed office at the rear of the store. + +But the pursy old man with the double chin and spectacles on his +forehead, the height of which the wisp of reddish-gray hair could not +hide, had observed it all. He got down ponderously from his stool and +squeaked out behind the long counter in his shiny boots. + +"I sent my bill over to your mother this morning, Miss Jess," he said. +"It is more than twenty dollars without this list of goods to-night," +and he shook the modest little paper in his hand, having taken it from +the clerk. + +"Mother is short of money just now," repeated Jess. + +"So'm I. You tell her so. I can't let you increase your indebtedness," +and his pudgy hand lifted the basket and put it on the shelf behind him. + +"You pay me something on account, or pay for these goods you've ordered +this evening. I'm needing money, too." + +"Mr. Closewick! I hope you won't do that," gasped Jess, paling under his +stern glance. "We will pay you--we always have. Mother sometimes has to +wait for her money--a long time. We spend many a twenty-dollar bill in +your store during the year----" + +"That ain't neither here nor there," said the grocer, ponderously. "It's +a rule I have. Never let a bill run more than twenty dollars. 'Specially +where there's no man in the family. Hard to collect from a woman. Makes +me bad friends if I press 'em. I can afford to risk losing twenty +dollars; but no more!" + +"How can you!" cried Jess, under her breath, for there was somebody else +entering the store. "We have bought of you for years----" + +"And if I hadn't stuck to the few business rules I have, I wouldn't have +been here selling you goods for years," returned Mr. Closewick, grimly. +"The sheriff would have sold me out. I'm sorry for your mother, and I +don't want to lose her trade. But business is business." + +"And you cannot favor us for this single occasion?" choked Jess. + +"It would lead to others; I can't break a rule," said the grocer, +stubbornly. "Come now, Miss Jess! You go home and tell your mother how +it is. I'll keep this basket right here for you, and you come back with +the two-seven, and it will be all right." + +"That would be useless," said Jess, clinging to the counter for support, +and feeling for the moment as though she should sink, "We haven't any +money--at present. If we had I should not have asked you for any +extension of credit. Please give me back my basket." + +"So?" returned the grocer, frowning. "Very well," and he deliberately +unpacked the parcels and handed her the basket--making a show of so +doing in the presence of the newly arrived customer. "And what can I do +for _you_, this evening, Mrs. Brown?" he asked, blandly, speaking to the +new arrival while he handed Jess her basket without a word. + +"And that woman will tell about it all over town!" thought the girl, as +she hurried into the street. "Oh, dear, dear! whatever shall I do?" + +For the cupboard at the Morse cottage was very bare indeed. Mrs. Mary +Morse had some little standing as a contributor to the more popular +magazines; but the returns from her pen-work being her entire means of +income, there were sometimes weary waitings for checks. Jess had been +used to these unpleasant occasions ever since she was a very little +girl. Her mother was of a nervous temperament and easily disturbed; and +as Jess had grown she had tried to shield her mother, at these times of +famine, from its most unpleasant features. + +As witness her passage-at-arms with the grocer, Mr. Closewick. No money +in the house, an empty pantry, their credit cut off at the store where +they had always traded, and no credit established at any other grocer's +shop! The situation looked desperate, indeed, to Jess Morse. + +Jess shrank from trying the butcher's and the dairy store, too. At each +shop an unpaid bill would stare her in the face and to-night she felt as +though each proprietor would demand a "payment on account." It was a +black night indeed. November was going out in its very mournfullest and +dismallest manner. + +And for Jess Morse there was an added burden of disappointment and +trouble. She was not able to attend the M. O. R. reception, although she +was a member. Laura Belding, her very dearest friend, would be there and +would wonder why she, Jess, did not appear. And after the reception Chet +Belding, Laura's brother, would be waiting to take Jess home--she hadn't +had the heart to tell Chet that she would not need his escort from the +reception. + +But, as Jess had told her mother, that blue party dress had become +impossible. Let alone its being months behind the fashion, it was frayed +around the bottom and the front breadth was sorely stained. And she +hadn't another gown fit to put on in the evening. She did so long for +something to wear at a party in which her friends would not know her two +blocks away. So she had "cut" the reception at the M. O. R. house. + +All this was a heavy load on Jess Morse's mind as she approached, with +hesitating steps, the butter and egg shop kept by Mr. Vandergriff. + +"Certainly," thought the troubled girl, "I either need a whole lot of +courage, or a lot of money--either would come in very handy to-night." + +Just then Jess was aroused from her brown study by hearing somebody +calling breathlessly after her. + +"Hi! Hi! Aren't you going to look around? Jess Morse!" + +A girl smaller than herself, and dressed from neck to heels in a +glistening raincoat, ran under Jess's umbrella and seized her arm. She +was a laughing, curly-haired girl with dancing black eyes and an +altogether roguish look. + +"Jess Morse! don't you ever look back on the street--no matter what +happens?" she demanded. + +"For what was Lot's wife turned to salt, Bobby?" returned Jess, +solemnly. + +"For good! Now you know, don't you?" laughed Clara Hargrew, whose +youthful friends knew her as "Bobby." + +"Why aren't you at the 'big doin's' to-night," demanded the harum-scarum +Bobby. "You're a Mother of the Republic; what means this delinquency?" + +"Just supposing I had something else to do?" returned Jess, trying to +speak lightly. "I'm on an errand now." + +She wished to shake Bobby off. She dared not take her into Mr. +Vandergriff's store. Suppose the butter and egg man should treat her as +the grocer had? + +"Say! you ought to be up there," cried the unconscious Bobby. "I just +came past the house and it was all lit up like--like a hotel. And Mr. +Sharp was just coming out with Mrs. Kerrick. Mrs. Kerrick is going to do +something big for us girls of Central High." + +"What do you mean?" asked Jess, only half interested in Bobby's gossip. + +"Going to give us a chance to win a prize, or something," pursued Bobby. + +"Oh! how do you know?" Jess showed more interest now. + +"Why, I heard Mr. Sharp say, as he was helping Mrs. Kerrick into Colonel +Swayne's auto: + +"'The girls of Central High should be delighted, Mrs. Kerrick--and very +grateful to you, indeed. Two hundred dollars! And a chance for any smart +girl to win it!'--just like that. Now, Jess, you and I are both smart +girls, aren't we?" demanded Bobby, roguishly. + +"We think we are, at any rate," returned Jess, more eagerly. "Two +hundred dollars! Oh! wouldn't that be fine!" + +"It would buy a lot of candy and ice-cream sodas," chuckled Bobby. + +But to herself Jess Morse thought: "And it would mean the difference, +for mother and me, between penury and independence! Oh, dear me! is it +something that I can do to earn two hundred dollars?" + +And she listened to Bobby's surmises about the mysterious prize without +taking in half what the younger girl was saying. Two hundred dollars! +And she and her mother did not have a cent. She looked up and saw the +lights of the butter and egg store just ahead, and sighed. + + + + +CHAPTER III--WHAT MR. CHUMLEY NEEDED + + +"Well, old Molly-grubs, I've got to leave you here," said Bobby Hargrew, +pinching the arm of Jess. "You're certainly down in the mouth to-night. +I never saw you so before. I'd like to know what the matter is with +you," complained Bobby, and ran off in the rain. + +Jess was heartily glad to get rid of her; and it was seldom that she +ever felt that way about Bobby. Bobby was the double distilled essence +of cheerfulness. + +But Jess felt as though nothing could cheer her to-night but the finding +of a big, fat pocket-book on the street--one that "didn't belong to +nobody!" There wasn't such an object in sight, however, along the +glistening walk--the walk that glistened in the lamplight from Mr. +Vandergriff's store. + +She positively _had_ to try her luck at the butter and egg shop. The man +could do no more than refuse her, that was sure. + +But when Jess had lowered her umbrella and backed into the shop, she +found several customers waiting at the counter. Mr. Vandergriff and his +son, whom the boys called "Griff" and who played fullback on the Central +High football team, were waiting upon these customers. Soon Griff was +through with the man he was waiting on and came to Jess. + +"What's yours to-night, Miss Morse?" he asked, and was so cheerful about +it that the girl's heart rose. They didn't owe Mr. Vandergriff such a +large bill, anyway. The proprietor was waiting upon the lady who stood +beside Jess as she gave her order to Griff. The lady was a very dressy +person and she laid her silver-mesh purse on the counter between herself +and Jess. The latter saw the glint of gold coins between the meshes of +the purse and her heart throbbed. She moved quietly away from the lady. +Wasn't it wicked--seemingly--that one should have so much money, while +another needed the very necessities of life? + +"Thank you, Griff," Jess heard herself saying to the younger +Vandergriff, as he packed her modest order in the basket. "I shall have +to ask you to charge that." + +"All right, Miss Morse. Nothing more to-night?" + +"No," said Jess, and went back and unhooked her umbrella from the edge +of the counter where she had hung it, and started for the door. A +bright-eyed man in a long blue raincoat who had been waited upon by +Griff already was just then going out, and he held open the door for +her. As she stepped out the girl saw that the rain was no longer +falling--merely a mist clung about the street lamps. She did not raise +her umbrella, but hurried toward home. + +There was enough in her basket for breakfast, at least. She would wait +until to-morrow--which was Saturday--before she went to the butcher's. +Perhaps something would happen. Perhaps in the morning mail there would +be a check for her mother instead of a returned manuscript. + +And all the time, while her feet flew homeward, she thought of the prize +of two hundred dollars that Mrs. Mabel Kerrick was to offer for the +girls of Central High to work for. What was the task? Could it be +something that _she_ excelled in? + +Jess was almost tempted to wait up until the reception was over and then +run to the Belding house and see her chum before Laura went to bed. +Laura might know all about it. + +_Two hundred dollars!_ + +Jess saw the words before her in dancing, rain-drop letters. They seemed +to beckon her on, and in a few minutes she was at the cottage, just at +the "elbow" of Whiffle Street, and came breathlessly into the kitchen. + +The room was empty, and the fire in the stove was but a spark. Jess +tiptoed to the sitting-room door and peered in. Her mother, wearing an +ink-stained jacket, was busy at her desk, the pen scratching on the big +sheets of pad paper. The typewriter was open, too, and the girl could +see that the title and opening paragraphs of a new story had already +been written on the machine. + +"Genius burns again!" sighed Jess, and went back to remove her damp hat +and jacket, and replenish the fire. Mother would want some tea by and +by, if she worked late into the evening, and Jess drew the kettle +forward. + +She stood her umbrella behind the entry door, and removed her overshoes +and put them under the range to dry. She had scarcely done so when a +stumbling foot sounded on the porch. She opened the door before the +visitor could knock, so that Mrs. Morse would not be disturbed. + +"Why, Mr. Chumley!" she exclaimed, recognizing the withered little man +who stood there. + +"Oh! you're home, are ye?" squeaked the landlord. "I was here a little +while ago and nobody answered my knock, though I could hear that +typewriter going _rat, tat, tat_ all the time." + +"I'm sorry, Mr. Chumley," said Jess, hastily. "But you know how mother +is when she's busy. She hears nothing." + +"Humph!" + +"Won't you come in?" hesitated Jess, still holding the door. The rent +was not due for a day or two, and he usually gave them a few days' grace +if they did not happen to have it right in the nick of time. + +"I guess I will," squeaked the landlord. + +He was a little whiffet of a man--"looked like a figure on a New Year's +cake," Bobby Hargrew said. His mouth was a mere slit in his gray, +wrinkled face, and his eyes were so close together that the sharp bridge +of his nose scarcely parted them. + +Some landlords hire agents to attend to their property and to the +collection of rents. Not so Mr. Chumley. He did not mind the trouble of +collecting, and he could fight off repairs longer than any landlord in +town. And the one-half of one per cent. collection fee was an item. + +"Think I've come ahead of time, eh?" he cackled, rubbing his blue +hands--as blue as a turkey's foot, Jess thought--over the renewed fire. +"It ain't many days before rent's due again. If ye have it handy ye can +pay me now, Miss Josephine." + +"It isn't handy, Mr. Chumley. We are shorter than usual just now," said +Jess, hating the phrase that comes so often to the lips of poverty. + +"Well! well! Can't expect money before it's due, I s'pose," said the old +man, licking his thin lips. "And I'm afraid ye find it pretty hard to +meet your bills at 'tis?" he added, his head on one side like a gray old +stork. + +Jess flushed and then paled. What had _he_ heard? Had that Mrs. Brown, +in the grocer's shop, told him already that Mr. Closewick had refused to +let her increase the bill? The girl looked at him without speaking, +schooling her features to betray nothing of the fear that gripped her +heart. + +"Hey?" squeaked Mr. Chumley. "Don't ye hear well?" + +"I hear you, sir," said Jess, glancing quickly to make sure that she had +closed the door tightly between the kitchen and the room in which her +mother was at work. + +"Well, I'm willin' to help folks out--always," said Mr. Chumley, his +withered cheek flushing. "If you're finding the rent of this house too +much fer ye, why, there's cheaper tenements in town. I own some of 'em +myself. Taxes is increased this year and I gotter go up on all +rentals----" + +"But, Mr. Chumley! we've lived in this cottage of yours ever since I can +remember. We've paid you a lot of rent. You surely are not going to +increase it now?" + +"I am, after December, Miss Josephine," declared Mr. Chumley. "I gotter +do it. Beginnin' with January first your mother will have to pay three +dollars more each month. You kin tell her that. I'm giving you a month's +warning." + +"Oh, Mr. Chumley! Surely you won't put us out----" + +"I ain't sayin' nothing about putting you out, though your mother ain't +as sure pay as some others. She's slow. And she's a woman alone. Hard to +git your money out of a widder woman. No. She can stay if she pays the +three dollars increase. Otherwise, I got the cottage as good as rented +right now to another party." + +He moved toward the door, without lifting his eyes again to Jess's face. + +"You'll tell her that," he said. "I'd like to do business with her +instead of with a half-grown gal. Don't suppose you _could_ let me have +the next month's rent to-night, eh?" + +"It isn't due yet, Mr. Chumley," Jess said, undecided whether to "get +mad" or to cry! + +"Well----Hello! who's these?" + +There was another clatter of footsteps upon the porch as old Mr. Chumley +opened the outer door. Jess looked past him and saw a female and a male +figure crowding into the entry. For a moment she recognized neither. + +"That's the girl!" exclaimed the woman, and her voice was sharp and +excited. + +"Hello!" muttered Mr. Chumley, and stood aside. "Here's young +Vandergriff." + +Jess looked on, speechless with amazement. She now recognized Griff, and +the woman with him was the fashionably attired lady who had stood beside +Jess at the counter in the butter and egg store. + +"Miss Jess! Miss Jess!" exclaimed Griff, quickly. "Did you open your +umbrella on the way home?" + +"I--I----" + +"Stupid!" exclaimed the woman. + +"Why, Griff, I didn't open it." + +"And you haven't opened it yet?" + +"Why--no," admitted the puzzled Jess. + +"Where is it?" cried the young man. "Now, you wait, Mrs. Prentice. I +know it will be all right." + +"That's all very fine, young man. But it isn't your purse that is lost," +exclaimed the woman, tartly. + +At last Jess understood. She started forward and her face flamed. + +"Oh!" she cried. "Did you lose that silver mesh purse?" + +"You see! She remembers it well enough," said the woman. + +"I could scarcely forget it. You laid it on the counter between us. And +it was heavy with money," said Jess. + +"Now, wait!" cried Griff, interposing, while old Chumley listened +eagerly, his little eyes snapping. "Did you set your umbrella aside +without opening it, Miss Morse?" + +"Yes, I did," repeated Jess. + +"And you had it hanging by the hooked handle on the edge of the counter +right beside this lady, didn't you?" + +"Yes, I did." + +"I saw it. It's just like a story book!" laughed Griff. "Get the +umbrella, Miss Morse. I knew it would be all right----" + +"I am not convinced that it is 'all right,' as you say, young man," +spoke Mrs. Prentice, eyeing Jess's flushed face, suspiciously. + +"Get it from behind the door there, Griff," said the girl, hurriedly. +She, too, had heard of such an incident as this. Perhaps the purse had +been knocked from the counter into her open umbrella. But suppose it was +_not_ there? + + + + +CHAPTER IV--WHAT MRS. PRENTICE NEEDED + + +"Here it is! here's the umbrella!" squeaked the officious Mr. Chumley, +coming out from behind the entry door, where he had been listening. + +All three of them--Jess, Griff, and the excited loser of the +purse--reached for the umbrella; but Griff was the first. + +"Hold on!" said he to the landlord. "Let me have that, sir. The purse +was lost in our store. We're just as much interested in the matter as +anybody." + +"I fail to see that, young man," said Mrs. Prentice, tartly. + +She was not naturally of a mean disposition; but she was excited, and +the explanation Griff had given her of the loss of the purse had seemed +to her unimaginative mind "far-fetched," to say the least. + +The boy half opened the umbrella and turned it over. Crash to the floor +fell the purse, and it snapped open as it landed. Out upon the linoleum +rolled the glistening coins--several of them gold pieces--that Jess had +noted so greedily in the egg store. + +"What did I tell you?" cried Griff, looking at Mrs. Prentice. + +That lady only exclaimed "Oh!" very loudly and looked aghast at the +rolling coins. Jess half stooped to gather up the scattered money. Then +she thought better of it and straightened up, looking straight into the +face of the owner of the purse. + +But old Mr. Chumley could not stand the lack of interest the others +seemed to show in what--to him--was the phase of particular importance +in the whole affair. There was real money rolling all over the Widow +Morse's kitchen. He went down on his rheumatic old knees and scrambled +for it. Mr. Chumley worshipped money, anyway, and this was a +worshipper's rightful attitude. + +"My, my, my!" he kept repeating. "How careless!" + +But Mrs. Prentice's expression of countenance was swiftly changing. She +flushed deeply--much more deeply than had Jess; then she paled. She +picked up Mr. Chumley's phrase, although she allowed the old man to pick +up the money. + +"I certainly _have_ been careless," she said. "I--I must have nudged +that purse off the counter with my elbow. I--I----My dear girl! will you +forgive me?" + +She stepped forward and opened her arms to Jess. She was not only a well +dressed lady, but she was a handsome one, and her smile, when she chose +to allow it to appear, was winning. The anger and indignation Jess had +felt began to melt before this apology and the lady's frank manner. + +"I--I suppose it was a natural mistake," stammered Jess. + +"Not if she'd known you, Miss Jess," Griff said, quite sharply for him. +"Nobody who knew you or your mother would have accused you of taking a +penny's worth that didn't rightfully belong to you." + +Jess, whose heart was still sore from the blow she had received at Mr. +Closewick's grocery, thought this was very kind of Griff. And they owed +his father, too! If there were tears standing in her eyes they were +tears of gratitude. + +"You see, my dear," said the lady, her voice very pleasant indeed now, +"I did not know you as well as young Mr. Vandergriff seems to." + +"We--we go to school together," explained Jess, weakly, and found +herself drawn into the arms of the lady. + +Mr. Chumley rose up with a grunt and a groan; he had the purse and all +the coins. + +"Very careless! very careless!" he repeated. "And here is nearly a +hundred dollars, madam. Think of carelessly carrying a hundred dollars +in a silly purse like that! It is astonishing----" + +Mrs. Prentice had implanted a soft little kiss on Jess's forehead and +shaken her a little playfully by both shoulders. + +"Don't you bear malice, my dear," she whispered. Then she turned briefly +to the old man. + +"You're very kind, I'm sure," she said, taking the purse into which Mr. +Chumley had crammed the money. "Thank you." + +"Money comes too hard for folks to scatter it around," complained the +landlord. + +Mrs. Prentice seemed to be much amused. "I should be more careful, I +suppose. I presume, now, I ought to count it to see if--if you gathered +it all up, sir?" she added, her eyes dancing. + +A little breath of red crept into the withered cheeks of the miserly old +man. "Well, well!" he ejaculated. "One can't be too careful." + +"I presume not," said the lady. + +"And if the gal had known the money was there she might have been +tempted, ye see." + +Jess flushed again and Griff looked angry; but Mrs. Prentice said, +coolly: + +"Were _you_ tempted, sir? Perhaps I had better count my money, after +all?" + +"Ahem! ahem!" coughed the old gentleman. "Perhaps you don't know who I +am? There is a vast difference between me--my condition, I mean--and the +gal and her mother." + +"Ah! Do you think so?" asked Mrs. Prentice, and then turned her back +upon him. "I should like to know you better, my dear--and your mother. I +hope you will show me that I am really forgiven by allowing me to call +some day----Oh! I couldn't face your mother now. I know just how I would +feel myself if I had a daughter who had been accused as I accused you. I +certainly need to take care--as our friend here says." + +"I am sure mother would be pleased to meet you," stammered Jess. + +"You know, I am Mrs. Prentice. My brother-in-law, Patrick Sarsfield +Prentice, is editor and proprietor of the Centerport _Courier_." + +Jess's interest was doubly aroused now. So _this_ was the rich Mrs. +Prentice, whom they said really backed Centerport's newest venture in +the newspaper field? + +"My mother has met Mr. Prentice--your brother-in-law," she said, +diffidently. "You know, mother writes. She is Mary Morse." + +"Ah, yes," said the lady, preparing to follow Griff out. "I am really +glad to have known you--but I am sorry we began our acquaintance so +unfortunately." + +"That--that is all right, Mrs. Prentice," returned the girl. + +Griff called back goodnight to her over his shoulder. And at the gate he +parted from the lady whose carelessness had made all the trouble. + +"That's just what I told you, Mrs. Prentice," he said. "They're all +right folks, those Morses. Yes, Mrs. Prentice, I'll remember to send all +those things you ordered over in the morning--first delivery," and he +went off, whistling. + + + + +CHAPTER V--THERE IS A GENERAL NEED + + +Mrs Prentice would have turned away from the gate of the Morse cottage +and gone her homeward way, too, had she not heard a cackling little +"ahem!" behind her. There was the wizened Mr. Chumley right on her +heels. + +"Very fortunate escape--very fortunate escape, indeed," said the +landlord. + +"It was," agreed the repentant lady. "I might have gone farther and done +much worse in my excitement." + +"Oh, no," said he. "I mean it was fortunate for the girl--and her +mother. Of course, they've got nothing, and had the money really been +missing it would have looked bad." + +Mrs. Prentice eyed him in a way that would have made a person with a +thinner skin writhe a little. But Mr. Chumley's feelings were not easily +hurt. + +"You evidently know all about those people?" said the lady, brusquely. + +"Oh, yes. They've been my tenants for some years. But rents are going up +in this neighborhood and----Well, I can get a much more satisfactory +tenant." + +"You have been warning them out of the cottage?" asked Mrs. Prentice, +quickly. + +"Not just that," said the old man, rubbing his hands together as though +he had an imaginary cake of soap between them and was busily washing the +Morse affair from his palms. "You see, I've told them I shall be obliged +to increase their rent at New Year's." + +"What do they pay you now?" + +Mr. Chumley told her frankly. He wasn't ashamed of what he took for the +renting of that particular piece of property. In a business way, he was +doing very well, and business was all that mattered with Mr. Chumley. + +"But that's better than _I_ can get for the same sort of a cottage in +this very vicinity," exclaimed Mrs. Prentice. + +"Ah! these agents!" groaned Mr. Chumley, shaking his head. "They never +will do as well as they should for an owner. I found that out long ago. +If I was a younger man, Mrs. Prentice, I would take hold of your +property and get you twenty-five per cent. more out of it." + +"Perhaps," commented the lady. "And you intend to raise the rent on +these people?" + +"I have done so. Three dollars. I can get it. Besides, a woman alone +ain't good pay," said Chumley. "And they're likely to fall behind any +time in the rent. Most uncertain income----" + +"Is it true that Mrs. Morse writes for a living?" + +"I don't know what sort of a livin' she makes. Foolish business. She'd +better take in washing, or go out to day's work--that's what she'd +better do," snarled the old man. "This messin' with pen, ink, an' a +typewriter an' thinkin' she can buy pork an' pertaters on the +proceeds----" + +"Perhaps she doesn't care for pork and potatoes, my friend," laughed the +lady, eyeing Mr. Chumley whimsically. + +But a flush had crept into the old man's withered cheek again. He was on +his hobby and he rode it hard. + +"Poor folks ain't no business to have finicky idees, or tastes," he +declared. "They gotter work. That's what they was put in the world +for--to work. There's too many of 'em trying to keep their hands clean, +an' livin' above their means. Mary Morse is a good, strong, hearty +woman. She'd ought to do something useful with her hands instead of +doing silly things with her mind." + +"So she writes silly things?" + +"Stories! Not a word of truth in 'em, I vum! I read one of 'em once," +declared Mr. Chumley. "Widder Morse wants to ape these well-to-do folks +that live 'tother end o' Whiffle Street. Keeps her gal in high school +when she'd ought to be in a store or a factory, earnin' her keep. She's +big enough." + +"Do you think that's a good way to bring up girls--letting them go to +work so early in life?" + +"Why not?" asked the old man, in wonder. "They kin work cheap and it +helps trade. Too much schoolin' is bad for gals. They don't need it, +anyway. And all the fal-lals and di-does they l'arn 'em in high school +now doesn't amount to a row of pins in practical life. No, ma'am!" + +"But do these Morses have such a hard time getting along?" asked Mrs. +Prentice, trying to bring the gossipy old gentleman back to the main +subject. + +"They don't meet their bills prompt," snapped the landlord. "Now! here I +was in the house to-night. I suggested that the gal pay the rent for +December; it'll be due in a day or two. And she didn't have it. They're +often late with it. I have to come two or three times before I get it, +some months. And I hear they owe the tradesmen a good deal." + +"They are really in need of sympathy and help, then?" + +"How's that?" demanded Mr. Chumley, with his cupped hand to his ear as +though he could not believe his own hearing. + +The lady repeated her remark. + +"There you go! You're another of them folks that waste their substance. +I could see that by your keerless handlin' of money," croaked Mr. +Chumley. "The Widder Morse don't need help--she needs sense, I tell ye." + +"And do you know what you need, Mr. Chumley?" asked the lady, suddenly, +and with some asperity. + +"Heh?" + +"You need charity! We all need it. And we've gossiped enough about our +neighbors, I declare! Good night, Mr. Chumley," she added, and turned +off through the side street toward her own home, leaving the old man to +wend his own way homeward, wagging his head and muttering discourteous +comments upon "all fool women." + +Mrs. Prentice was a widow herself. But she had no mawkish +sentimentality. She had lived in the world too many years for that. She +was not given to charities of any kind. But the thought of Jess Morse +and her widowed mother clung to her mind like a limpet to a rock--even +after she had dismissed her maid that night and retired. + +"Just think!" she muttered, with her head on the pillow. "If that purse +had been really lost I might have made that young girl a lot of +trouble--and her mother. And she is such a frank, courageous little +thing! + +"We _do_ need more charity--the right kind. Somehow--yes--I _must_ do +something to help that girl." + + + + +CHAPTER VI--IT ALL COMES OUT + + +Before morning old Jack Frost snapped his fingers and the whole world +was encased in ice. The sidewalks were a glare, the trees, and bushes, +to their tiniest twig, were as brittle as icicles, and a thin white +blanket had been laid upon the lawns along Whiffle Street. + +It was the first really cold snap of winter. Chet Belding came clumping +down to breakfast that Saturday morning. + +"Skating shoes!" exclaimed his sister, Laura. "What for, Sir Knight?" + +"I bet a feller can skate in the street--on the sidewalk--almost +anywhere this morning," declared Chet, with enthusiasm. + +"You don't mean to try it?" cried Laura. + +"I'll eat my honorable grandmother's hat if I don't----" + +"Chetwood!" + +The horrified ejaculation came from behind the coffee percolator. Mrs. +Belding had been perusing her morning mail. Mr. Chetwood chuckled, but +graduated it into a pronounced cough. + +"Yes, ma'am!" said Chet, meekly. + +"What _kind_ of language is this that you bring to our table? Your +grandmother certainly was honorable----" + +"That's an imitation of the stilted expressions of the Japs and Chinks," +interrupted Chetwood. "Thought you'd like it. It's formal, abounds in +flowery expressions, and may not be hastened. Quotation from Old +Dimple," he added, sotto voce. + +"Please leave your grandmother out of it," said Mrs. Belding, severely. +"And if you mean Professor Dimp, your teacher at Central High, do not +call him 'Old Dimple' in my presence," which showed that Mother +Belding's hearing was pretty acute. + +"Anyhow," said Chet, "I'm going to try the ice after breakfast. Going to +get Lance and we'll have some fun. Better get your skates, Laura." + +"No. I'm going to the store with father--if we don't both tumble down +and roll to the bottom of the hill at Market Street, like Jack and +Jill," laughed his sister. + +"Teams can't get over the asphalt this morning," said her brother. "We +can coast clear to the elbow, I bet you." + +He hurried through his breakfast and some time after Laura and her +father started for the jewelry store, in which the girl had certain +Saturday morning tasks to perform, the voices of Chet and his friends +awoke the echoes of the street as they skated on the asphalt. + +Whiffle Street was an easy slope toward the elbow, where Jess Morse and +her mother lived. Although the keen wind blew pretty strongly right up +the hill, when Laura and her father started for the store the boys were +holding hands and in a line that swept the street from curb to curb, +sailed gaily down the hill upon their skates. + +"That's fun!" exclaimed Laura, her cheeks rosy with the wind, and her +eyes sparkling. + +"It's just like life," said her father, "It's easy going down hill; but +see what a pull it is to get up again," for Chet and his comrades had +then begun the homeward skate. + +Lance Darby, a fair-haired, rosy-cheeked lad, who was Chet's particular +chum, was ahead and he came, puffingly, to a stop just before Laura. + +"This is great--if it wasn't for the 'getting back again.' Good-morning, +Mr. Belding." + +"Why don't you boys rig something to tow you up the hill?" asked Laura, +laughing, and half hiding her face in her muff. + +"Huh!" ejaculated her brother, coming up, too. "How'd we rig it, Sis?" + +"Come on, Mother Wit!" laughed Lance. "You tell us." + +"Why--I declare, Chet's got just the thing standing behind the door in +his den," cried Laura, her eyes twinkling. + +"What?" cried Chet "You're fooling us, Laura. My snowshoes----" + +"Not them," laughed Laura, preparing to go on with her father. + +"I know!" shouted Lance, slapping his chum suddenly on the back. He was +as familiar with Chet's room as was Chet himself. + +"Out with it, then!" demanded Chet. + +"That big kite of yours. Wind's directly up the hill. We'll get it and +try the scheme. Oh, you Mother Wit!" shouted Lance, after Laura. "We're +going after the kite." + +And that suggestion of Laura's was the beginning of Chet and Lance +Darby's "mile-a-minute iceboat"--but more of that wonderful invention +later. + +Laura was halted again before she reached Market Street, and her father +went on without her, for it was now half-past eight. Jess Morse waved to +her from a window, and in a moment came running out in a voluminous +checked apron and a gay sweater-coat, hastily "shrugged" on. + +"Where were you last night?" cried Laura. "We missed you dreadfully at +the M. O. R. house." + +"I--I really couldn't come," said her chum, hesitating just a little, +for it was hard not to be perfectly frank with Laura, who was always so +open and confidential with _her_. "Mother is so busy--she worked half +the night----" + +"Genius burns the midnight oil, eh?" laughed Laura. + +"Yes, indeed. And now I'm about to make her toast and brew her tea, and +she will take it, propped up in bed, and read over the work she did last +night. Saturdays, when I am home, is mother's 'lazy day.' She says she +feels quite like a lady of leisure then." + +"But you should have come to the first big reception of the winter," +complained her chum. + +"Couldn't. But I heard that there was something very wonderful going to +happen, just the same," cried Jess. + +"What do you mean?" + +"About the prize." + +"My goodness me! Somebody is a telltale," cried Laura, laughing. "We +were not going to spread the news until Monday morning." + +Jess told her how the rumor of the prize had come to her ears. + +"No use--it's all out, and all over town, if Bobby Hargrew got hold of +it." + +"But what's Mrs. Mabel Kerrick going to give the two hundred dollars +_for?_" + +"Oh, Jess! it's a great scheme, I believe--and it's mine," said Laura, +proudly. + +"But you don't tell me _what_ it is," cried her chum, impatiently. + +"It's to be given for the best play written by a Central High girl, +between now and the first of January. Any girl can compete--even the +freshies. And then we'll produce it, and get money for the M. O. R. +building fund." + +"A play!" gasped Jess, her face flushing. + +"That's it. And the Lockwood girls are going to try for it--and so's +Nell Agnew. Will you, Jess? Just think of two hundred dollars!" + +"I am thinking of it," replied her chum. "Oh, Laura! I'm thinking of it +all the time." + +She said it so earnestly that Laura stared at her in amazement. + +"My dear child!" she cried. "Does two hundred dollars mean so much to +you?" + +"I--I can't tell you how _hard_ I want to win it," gasped Jess. + +"Well! I'm going to try for it, too," laughed Laura, suddenly, seizing +her friend's arm and giving it an affectionate squeeze. "But I _do_ +hope, if I can't win it, that you do!" + +"Thank you, Laura!" replied her friend, gravely. + +"And your mother's a writer--you must have talent, too, for writing, +Jess." + +"That doesn't follow, I guess," laughed Jess. "You know that Si Jones +talks like a streak of greased lightning--so Chet says, anyway--but his +son, Phil, is a deaf-mute. Talent for writing runs in families the same +as wooden legs." + +"So you do not believe that even a little reflected glory bathes your +path through life?" chuckled Laura. + +"I am not sure that I would want to be a professional writer like +mother," sighed Jess, her mind dwelling on the trouble they were in. +"There is a whole lot to it besides 'glory.'" + +"Well, if I can't write the winning play, I hope you do, Jess," repeated +Laura, going on after her father. + +Jess returned to her work indoors. From the window, after a little, she +caught sight of a whole string of boys sliding up the hill of Whiffle +Street on their skates, the big kite which Chet and Lance had raised +supplying the motive power. + +Chet beckoned her out to have a part in the fun; but much more serious +matters filled Jess Morse's mind. When her mother finally arose, and +folded and sealed and addressed the packet containing her night's work, +Jess had to go out and mail it. + +"I really believe that is a good story, Jess," said her mother, who was +sanguine of temperament. She had a childish faith in the success of +every manuscript she sent out; and usually when her chickens "came home +to roost" her spirits withstood the shock admirably. + +"Now, don't forget the list of things you were to get at Mr. +Closewick's," added Mrs. Morse. Jess had kept her evening's troubles +strictly to herself. "I believe he sent in a bill, but you tell him how +it is; we'll have money in a day or two." + +"But, Mother, we owe other stores, too," murmured Jess. + +"I know it, child. But don't remind me----" + +"And the rent will be due. Mr. Chumley was here last night----" + +"Not for his rent so soon?" cried the irresponsible lady. + +"But he is going to raise our rent--three dollars more after January +first." + +"Oh, how mean of him!" exclaimed Mrs. Morse. + +"I don't see how we are going to get it, Mother," said Jess, worriedly. + +"Well, that's true. But we've got another month before we need to cross +_that_ bridge." + +That was Mrs. Morse's way. Perhaps it was as well that she allowed such +responsibilities to slip past her like water running off the feathers of +a duck. + +"And if Mr. Closewick shouldn't want to--to trust us any longer, +Mother?" suggested Jess. That was as near as she could get to telling +the good lady what had really happened the night before. + +"Why! that would be most mortifying. He won't do it, though. But if he +does, we'll immediately begin trading elsewhere, I don't really think +Mr. Closewick always gives us good weight, at that!" + +Jess could only sigh. It was always the way. Mrs. Morse saw things from +a most surprising angle. She was just as honest--intentionally--as she +could be, but the ethics of business dealing were not quite straight in +her mind. + +And something must be done this very day to put food in the larder. What +little Jess had brought in from Mr. Vandergriff's store would not last +them over Sunday. And her mother seemed to think that everybody else +would be just as sanguine of her getting a check as she was herself. + +"I do wish you had been able to get steady work with the _Courier_," +spoke Jess, as she prepared to go out. + +"That would have been nice," admitted her mother. "And I am in a +position to know a good deal of what goes on socially on the Hill. I am +welcome in the homes of the very best people, for your father's sake, +Jess. He was a very fine man, indeed." + +"And for your own sake, too, Mamma!" cried Jess, who was really, after +all, very proud of her mother's talent. + +"It would have been nice," repeated Mrs. Morse. "And certainly the +_Courier_ is not covering the Hill as well as might be. I pointed that +out to Mr. Prentice; but he is limited in expenditures, I suppose, the +paper being a new venture." + +It was on the tip of the girl's tongue to tell her mother of the visit +of Mr. Prentice's sister-in-law the evening before. But why disturb her +mother's mind with all that trouble? So she said nothing, kissed her +fondly, and sallied forth to beard in their lairs "the butcher, the +baker, and the candlestick maker." And, truly, there were few girls in +Centerport that day with greater lions in their way than those in the +path of Jess Morse. + + + + +CHAPTER VII--THE HAND HELD OUT + + +When Jess came out of the house there was a group of her +schoolmates--and not all of them boys--at the foot of the Whiffle Street +hill. Being towed by Chet's big kite had became a game that all hands +wanted to try. But the sun was getting warmer and the icy street would +soon be slushy and the skates would cut through. + +"I've had enough," said Bobby Hargrew, removing her skates when she +spied Jess. "The policeman has warned us once, and he'll be mad next +time he comes around if we're here still." + +"Better get your skates, Jess, and try it just once," urged Chet +Belding, who was very partial to his sister's closet chum. + +"I can't, Chet," replied Jess. "I must do my Saturday's marketing." + +"Hullo! here's Short and Long!" cried Bobby, as a very short boy with +very brisk legs came sliding down the hill with a big bundle under his +arm. + +Billy Long was an industrious youngster who only allowed himself leisure +to keep up in athletics after school hours, because he liked to earn +something toward his family's support. + +"Stop and try a ride, Billy," urged Lance Darby, holding the cord of the +tugging kite. + +"Can't. Going on an errand." + +"Hey, Billy! how's your dyspepsia?" demanded another of the boys. + +Billy grinned. Bobby exclaimed: + +"Now, don't tell me that Short and Long ever has trouble with his +digestion--I won't believe it!" + +"He sure had a bad case of it yesterday," drawled Chet Belding. "At +least, so Mr. Sharp said. Billy spelled it with an 'i'." + +"Let me use your knife a minute, please?" asked Bobby, who was still +struggling with a refractory strap. "No! just toss it to me." + +"That's all right," returned the small boy, with a grin, as he walked +over and carefully handed Bobby the knife. "I don't take any chances +with girls in throwing, or catching. All my sister can do is to throw a +fit, or catch a cold!" + +"Ow! isn't that a wicked statement?" cried Bobby. "You know it isn't so. +But you're right down ignorant, Billy. You're just as bad as Postscript +was in Gee Gee's class one day this week." + +"Who's 'Postscript'?" demanded Lance. "That's a new one on me." + +"Why," said Bobby, her black eyes twinkling, "I mean Adeline Moore. +_That's_ a postscript, isn't it?" + +"What happened to Addie?" asked Jess, as the others laughed. + +"Why, she got befuddled in reciting something about an Indian uprising +that came in our American History hour. It's all review stuff, you know. + +"'What is it that you call an Indian woman, Adeline?' Gee Gee asked, +real sharp. + +"And Addie jumped, and stammered, and finally said: + +"'A squaw, please, Miss Carrington.' + +"'And what do you call her baby, then?' snapped Gee Gee. + +"'A--a squawker,' says Addie, and the poor thing got a black mark for +it. Wasn't that mean?" + +"Miss Grace G. Carrington was in one of her moods," observed Chet, when +the laugh had subsided. + +"She's subject to moods," Lance drawled. + +"No, she's not!" cried Bobby Hargrew. "She only had one mood--the +imperative--and we girls are all subject to that," and she sighed, for +Bobby was frequently in trouble with the very strict assistant principal +of Central High whom she disrespectfully referred to as "Gee Gee." + +Jess and her friend had left the others now and were approaching Market +Street. Like everybody else on the walks, they had to be careful how +they stepped, and it was with many a laugh and gibe that Bobby Hargrew +beguiled the way. Jess, however, was serious once more. + +"Are you really going in for that prize Mrs. Kerrick is going to put up +for us?" demanded Bobby. + +"Do you know what it's for?" + +"No--I haven't heard that," said the younger girl. "But for two hundred +dollars I'd learn tatting--or darn socks. Daddy says I ought to learn to +darn his. What's it all about, anyway? I suppose Laura knows?" + +"Yes. It's a play. The girl who writes the best one, that can be acted +by us boys and girls of Central High, is to get the prize." + +"Gee! won't that be nuts for Miss Gould?" cried Bobby. "You know, she +tried us out in blank verse the other day, and I made a hit. My stately +lines were spoken of with commendation. And when she told us to bring in +a rhyme, or poetry--whichever we had the courage to call it--I wanted to +read mine out loud. But she wouldn't let me. She said she had not +intended to start a school for humorous poets." + +"What did you hand in?" asked Jess, smiling. + +"Want to hear it?" cried Bobby, eagerly, digging into her pocket +which--like a boy's--was always filled with a conglomeration of +articles. "Listen here!" she added, drawing forth a crumpled paper. +"This is called 'Such is Life' and really, I was hurt that Miss Gould +considered it so lightly," and she began to read at once: + + "'William Wright was often wrong + And Thomas Goode was bad; + While Griffith Smiley, odd to state, + Was almost always sad. + Jedediah Rich was very poor, + While Ozias Poor was rich, + And Eliphalet Q. Carpenter + Earned his living digging ditch. + Tom White was black Jim Black was white, + And Jose Manuel Green was brown; + While Ching Ling Blu was yellow, + As was known all over town!' + +"I'd have made more of it," added Bobby, "only Miss Gould didn't seem to +care for that kind of poetry. And I suppose if I tried my hand at a play +that I would be unable to hit the popular taste," and she sighed. + +"I guess they won't demand verse from us in this play," giggled Jess. +"And that is most atrocious, Bobby." + +"Think so?" returned her friend, her eyes twinkling. "And you'll do a +whole lot better when it comes to writing your own play, I s'pose?" + +"It won't be in verse--blank, or otherwise," admitted Jess. + +"You really _are_ going to try for it?" + +"Why, Bobby, I'd love to win that two hundred dollars. I don't suppose I +can. All the girls will try, I expect, and Laura, or Nell Agnew, will +get it. But I want that two hundred dollars worse than I ever wanted +anything in my life!" + +She spoke so earnestly that Bobby was impressed. The latter glanced at +her sidewise and a shrewd little smile hovered about her lips for a +moment, which Jess did not observe. + +"Where are you bound for, Jess?" she asked abruptly. + +"Marketing." + +"You trade at Heuffler's market, don't you? That's right around the +corner from father's store. Why don't you ever patronize _our_ place for +groceries. I'm drumming up trade," said Bobby, grinning. + +"I guess our trade wouldn't amount to much," said Jess, flushing a +little. + +"'Every little bit added to what you've got makes just a little bit +more,'" quoted Bobby. "And let me tell you, Mr. Thomas Hargrew keeps +first-class goods and only asks a fair profit." + +Jess laughed; but she caught at the straw held out to her, too. She knew +it would be useless to go to Mr. Closewick's, where they usually traded. +Was it honest to try and obtain credit at another grocery? + +"I am afraid your father wouldn't welcome me as a customer," said Jess, +gravely. "Ours isn't always a cash trade. Mother's money comes so very +irregular that we have to run a bill at the grocery and the market and +other places." + +"Come on and give us a sample order," urged Bobby. "Father will be glad +to get another book account. Now, if _you_ were running a store I'd +patronize it! We Central High girls ought to work together--just like a +lodge. Come on." + +She fairly dragged Jess by the hand into the store on Market Street, +over the door of which Mr. Hargrew's name was displayed. The clerks were +busy at the moment, but Mr. Hargrew was at his desk in the corner. Bobby +ran to him and whispered quickly: + +"Here she is, Father. You remember what that Mrs. Brown said last night +about old Closewick refusing her credit after her mother had traded +there so long. And I am sure Jess is in trouble and needs help. Do wait +on her, Father." + +"If you say so, Bob," returned the big man, smiling down upon the girl +who, he often said, "was as good as any boy." "You'll have to come into +this store and share the business when you get older; and you might as +well learn to judge customers now. And, if they _need_ help----" + +He came out to Jess Morse immediately, smiling and bowing like the suave +storekeeper he was. + +"Glad to see you, Miss, What can we do for you this morning?" + +"Why--why," stammered Jess, "Bobby urged me to come in; but, really, Mr. +Hargrew, it seems like asking a big favor of you, for we have never +traded here much." + +"We are always glad to make a new connection," said the storekeeper, + +"But mother--we are obliged to ask for credit----" + +"And that is what I have to do very frequently myself," interposed Mr. +Hargrew, still smiling. "What is it you wish, Miss Morse? Your credit is +good here, I assure you. You have brought the very best of +references--my daughter's. Now, what is the first article?" + +Jess could have cried with relief! Somehow she felt that Bobby and her +father must know of her need, yet not a word or sign from either +betrayed that fact. And one would scarcely suspect harum-scarum Bobby +Hargrew of engineering such a delicate bit of business. + +Nevertheless, Jess was vastly encouraged by this incident. She went into +the meat shop and purchased a small piece of lamb for over Sunday and +Mr. Heuffler did not ask her for his bill. She hoped that "something +would turn up" and watched the mails very eagerly, hoping that a +fugitive check might come. But the postman never came near the little +cottage at the elbow in Whiffle Street, all that day. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII--THE RACE IS ON + + +There was a rustle of expectancy--upon the girls' side, at least--at +Assembly on Monday morning. Rumors of the prize offered for the best +play written by a girl of Central High had aroused great interest and +the school eagerly awaited Mr. Sharp's brief remarks regarding it. + +"It is not our wish," said the principal, in the course of his speech, +"to restrict the contestants in their choice of subjects, or in methods +of treatment. The play may be pure comedy, comedy-drama, tragedy--even +farce--or melodrama. Miss Gould will confine her lectures this week in +English to the discussion of plays and play-making. Candidates for +fame--and for Mrs. Kerrick's very handsome prize--may learn much if they +will faithfully attend Miss Gould's classes. And, of course, it is +understood that there must be no neglect of the regular school work by +those striving for the laurel of the playwright. + +"I doubt if we have any budding female Shakespeares among us, yet I +realize that the youthful mind naturally slants towards tragedy and the +redundant phrases of the Greek and Latin masters, as read in their +translation; but let me advise all you young ladies who wish to compete +for the prize, to select a simple subject and treat it simply. + +"Have your play display human nature as you know it, and realism without +morbidness." + +The girls of Central High who had heretofore excelled in composition +naturally were looked upon as favorites in this race for dramatic +honors. Among the Juniors, Laura Belding and Nellie Agnew always +received high marks for such work. They possessed the knack of +composition and were what Bobby Hargrew called "fluid writers." + +"If it was a jingle or limerick, I'd stand a chance," sighed Bobby to +herself. "But think of the sustained effort of writing a whole play! +Gee! two hours and a half long. It would break my heart to sit still +long enough to do it." + +Jess Morse had never tried to more than pass in English composition. For +the very reason, perhaps, that she had seen the practical side of such a +career at home, she had not, like so many girls of her age, contemplated +seriously literary employment for herself. + +Lily Pendleton was known to have once essayed an erotic novel, and had +read a few chapters to some of her closer friends. Bobby said it should +have been written on yellow paper with an asbestos pad under it to save +scorching Miss Pendleton's desk. Of course, Lily would attempt a play in +the most romantic style. + +The boys began to hatch practical jokes anent the play-writing before +the week was out; and one afternoon Chet Belding appeared in a group of +his sister's friends, and with serious face declared he had with him the +outline and introductory scene of Laura's play, its caption being: + +"The Poisoned Bathing-Suit; or, The Summer Boarder's Revenge." + +Some of the girls--and not alone the Juniors like Laura, Nellie and +Jess--were very serious about this matter of the play. Mrs. Kerrick's +prize spurred every girl who had the least ability in that direction to +begin writing a dramatic piece. Some, of course, did not get far; but +the main topic of discussion out of school hours among the girls of +Central High was the play and the prize. + +Jess talked it over with her mother, and Mrs. Morse grew highly excited. + +"Why, Josephine, dear, if you could win that prize it would be splendid! +Then you could have a new party dress--and a really nice one--and the +furs I have been hoping to buy you for two seasons. Dear, dear! what a +lot of things you really could get for that sum." + +"I guess it would help us out a whole lot," admitted the girl "We need +so many things----" + +"Why, I shouldn't allow you to use a cent of it for the household--or +for me," cried her mother. "No, indeed." + +"I haven't won it yet," sighed Jess. "But I guess if I did win it you'd +have to take a part of it, Mother." + +"Nonsense, child!" cried Mrs. Morse. "We'll have some checks in shortly. +And we sha'n't starve meanwhile. Now, let us look over this plot you +have evolved and perhaps I can suggest some helpful points--and show you +how to write brisk dialogue. That is something the editors always praise +me for--although I have never dared try a play myself. It is so hard to +get a hearing before a really responsible manager." + +Outside help for the girls was not debarred by the terms of the contest, +so long as the main thread of plot in each play was original with the +author, and she actually did the work. Jess listened to the practical +suggestions of her mother in relation to her play; but all the time she +had upon her mind, too, the domestic difficulties that seemed to have +culminated just now in a single great billow of trouble. + +No money had come in. She had been obliged to go once more to Mr. +Hargrew for groceries, and to the meat store and to Mr. Vandergriff's. +Her mother could talk in her cheerful manner about what she could do +with the two hundred dollar prize if she earned it. But Jess was very +sure that she would not spend it for personal adornment--although no +girl at Central High loved to be dressed in the mode more than Jess +Morse. + +"If such a _darling_ thing should happen as my winning the prize, I'd +put it all in the bank for a nest-egg," she thought. "Then, when checks +do not come in, we would not have to ask for credit. We'd pay up all +debts and start square with the world. And then--and then I'd be +perfectly happy!" + +The first of the month arrived, and with it Mr. Chumley. Mrs. Morse was +busy at her desk and said: + +"Just tell him, Josephine, that we will have it shortly. He needn't come +again. I'll let you take it around to his house to him when I get it." + +But this did not suit the old man, and he pushed his way, for once, into +the presence of the literary lady. + +"Now, see here! Now, see here!" he cackled. "This won't do at all, +Widder--this won't do at all! I want my money, and I want it prompt. And +if you can't pay your present rent prompt, how do you expect to pay it +next month, when you must find three dollars more? Now, tell me that, +Ma'am?" + +"Really, Mr. Chumley! You are too bad," complained Mrs. Morse. "I am so +hard at work. You quite drive the ideas out of my head. I--I don't know +what train of thought I was following." + +Mr. Chumley snorted. "You'd better be huntin' the advertisement columns +of a newspaper for a job, Widder," he said. "Them 'trains of thought' of +yours won't never carry you nowhere. I gotter have my money. How are you +going to get it?" + +"I have never failed to pay you heretofore, have I?" asked the lady, +bringing out her handkerchief now. "I think this is too bad----" + +"But I want money!" + +"And you shall have it, I have considerable owing to me--oh, yes! a good +deal more than sufficient to pay your rent, Mr. Chumley. You will get +it." + +That was a very unsatisfactory interview for the landlord, and +particularly so for Mrs. Morse. She complained when he had gone to Jess: + +"Now, my day is just spoiled. I'm all at loose ends. It will cost me a +day's work. Really, Josephine, if only people wouldn't nag me so for +money!" + +And Jess strove to shield her all that she could from such interviews. +Mrs. Morse needed to live alone in a world with her brain-children. +Meanwhile her flesh-and-blood child had to fight her battles with the +landlord and tradesmen. + +It was amid such sordid troubles that Jess evolved the idea for her +play. The butterfly is born of the ugly chrysalis; out of this unlovely +environment grew a pretty, idyllic comedy which, although crude in +spots, and lacking the professional touch which makes a dramatic piece +"easy acting," really showed such promise that Mrs. Morse acclaimed its +value loudly. + +"Oh, Mother! don't praise me so much," begged Jess. "The theme is good, +I know. But it scares me. How can I ever dress it up to make it sound +like a real play? It sounds so jerky and imperfect--that part that I +have written, I mean." + +"There is something a dramatic critic told me once that may be true," +replied her mother. "It was that the piece which reads smoothly seldom +acts well; whereas a play that 'gets over the footlights' usually reads +poorly. You see, action cannot be read aloud; and it is the action that +accompanies the words of a dramatic piece that makes those words tell. + +"I am not sure that Mr. Sharp and his committee will consider your play +the best written, from a literary standpoint; but I understand that they +have invited Mr. Monterey, the manager of the Centerport Opera House, to +read the plays, too. And you, Josephine, write for _him;_ for they will +depend upon his judgment in the choice of the acting qualities of the +piece." + +This was good advice, as Jess very well knew. And she could barely keep +her mind sufficiently upon her school work to pass the eagle scrutiny of +Miss Grace G. Carrington, so wrapped up was she in the play. Not even to +Laura did she confide any facts regarding the piece. Some of the girls +openly discussed what they had done, and what they hoped; but Jess kept +still. + +Thursday came and in her mother's morning mail was a letter with the +card of the Centerport _Courier_ in the corner. + +"Now, what can that be?" drawled Mrs. Morse, when Jess eagerly brought +it to her. "They buy no fugitive matter, and I haven't sent them +anything since having my interview with Mr. Prentice. I really would +have been happier to see a letter like that from one of the New York +magazines; it might have contained a check in that case," and she slowly +slit the envelope. + +But Jess waited in the background with suppressed eagerness in her face +and attitude. At once her thought had leaped to Mrs. Prentice. She had +not told her mother a word about that lady's visit on Friday evening, +nor her errand to the house. But if Mrs. Prentice was really "the power +behind the throne" in the _Courier_ office, she might easily put some +regular work in the way of Mrs. Morse. + +"Listen to this, child!" exclaimed her mother, having glanced hastily +through the letter. "Perhaps I had better take this--for a time, at +least. I don't like the idea of being tied down--it might interfere with +my magazine work----" + +"Oh, Mother!" cried Jess. "What is it?" + +"Listen: Addressed to me, 'Dear Madam:--Will reconsider your suggestion +of covering Hill section for society news. Can afford at least five +dollars' worth of space through the week, and perhaps something extra on +Sunday. Come and see me again. Respectfully, P. S. Prentice.' Well!" + +"Oh, Mother!" repeated Jess. "What a splendid chance!" + +"Why, Josephine, not so very splendid," said her mother, slowly. "He +only guarantees me five dollars weekly. That is not much." + +"It will feed us--if we are careful," gasped Jess. + +"Goodness, Josephine! What a horribly practical child you are getting to +be. I don't know what the girls of to-day are coming to. Now, that would +never have appealed to me when I was your age. I never knew how papa and +mamma got food for us." + +Jess might have told her that conditions had not changed much since her +girlhood! + +"But five dollars regularly will help us a whole lot, Mother," she +urged. + +"And it will necessitate my going out considerably--and appearing at +receptions and places. Really--I have refused a number of invitations +because of my wardrobe. My excuse of 'work' is not always strictly +true," sighed Mrs. Morse. + +"But do, _do_ try it, Mother!" cried Jess. + +"Well," said the lady, "it may do no harm. And it may be an opening for +something better. But, really, nobody must know that I am a mere society +reporter on the Centerport _Courier_." + + + + +CHAPTER IX--A SKATING PARTY + + +The girls of the Junior class in modern history were filing out on +Friday. + +"What do you know about that?" hissed Bobby Hargrew, in the ears of her +chums. "Gee Gee is getting meaner and meaner every day she lives." + +"What did she do to you now?" demanded Dora Lockwood, one of the twins. + +"Didn't you notice? She sent Postscript to hunt up Moscow on the map of +Russia. Now! you know very well that Moscow was burned in 1812!" + +"You ridiculous child!" exclaimed Nellie Agnew. "You will never do +anything in school but make jokes and try the patience of your +teachers." + +"I am no friend to teachers, I admit," confided Bobby to Dora and +Dorothy. "Don't you think they ought to be made to earn their money?" + +"Any teacher who is so unfortunate as to have you in his, or her, class, +is bound to earn all the salary coming to them," declared Dorothy. + +"Bad grammar--but you don't know any better," declared the harum-scarum. +"You're just as bad as Freddie Atkinson. Dimple asked him who compiled +the dictionary, and Freddie said, 'Daniel Webster.' + +"'No, sir! Noah!' snapped Dimple. + +"'Oh, Professor!' exclaimed Fred. 'I thought Noah compiled the Ark?'" + +As the girls were laughing over this story of Bobby Hargrew's, Eve Sitz +came up briskly. Laura and Jess were near at hand, and in a moment a +group of the Juniors who always "trained together" were in animated +discussion. + +"Yes. It's frozen hard. Otto was on it with a pair of horses and our +pung," declared Eve, who came in every morning from the country on the +train, and whose father owned a big farm over beyond Robinson's Woods. + +"What's frozen?" demanded Dora. + +"Peveril Pond. It's as smooth as glass. I want you to all come over on +Saturday afternoon; we'll have a lot of fun," declared Eve. + +"You're always inviting us to the farm, Evangeline," said Nellie Agnew; +"I should think your father and mother would be tired of having us +overrun the place." + +"Never you mind about them," declared Evangeline, smiling. "They love to +have young folks around. Now, remember! Saturday at noon the autos will +start from the Beldings' front door--if it doesn't snow." + +"Oh, snow!" cried Bobby. "I hope not yet." + + "'Beautiful snow! he may sing whom it suits-- + I object to the stuff, 'cause it soaks through my boots!'" + +"It's too bad," said Jess, "that Mrs. Kerrick didn't offer a prize for +verse. Bobby would win it, sure!" + +"Never you mind," said Bobby, with mock solemnity. "I may surprise you +all yet. I am capable of turning out tragic stuff--you bet your boots!" + +"Mercy, Bobby! how slangy you are getting," murmured Nell Agnew, the +doctor's daughter. + +"You think I cannot be serious?" demanded Bobby, very gravely. "Listen +here. Here is what I call 'The Lay of the Last Minorca'--not the 'Last +Minstrel!' + +"'She laid the still white form beside those that had gone before,'" +quoth Bobby, in sepulchral tone. + +"'No sob, no sigh, forced its way from her heart, throbbing as though it +would burst. + +"'Suddenly a cry broke the stillness of the place--a single +heartbreaking shriek, which seemed to well up from her very soul, as she +left the place: + +"'"Cut, cut, cut-ah-out!" + +"'She would lay another egg to-morrow.'" + +"You ridiculous girl!" exclaimed Laura. "Aren't you ever serious at +all?" + +"My light manner hides a breaking hear-r-r-t," croaked Bobby. "You don't +know me, Laura, as I really _are!_" + +"Don't want to," declared Laura Belding, briskly. "It must be awful to +be a humorist. All right, Eve. We'll come on Saturday. Chet will see Mr. +Purcell about the big car. Lake Luna is frozen only at the edges, and is +unsafe. But we will have a good time at Peveril Pond." + +Fortunately Mrs. Morse received payment for a story in a magazine that +week or Jess would never have had the heart to join the skating party. +But the sum realized was sufficient to settle with Mr. Closewick, pay +the month's rent of the cottage, and pay a part of each bill at Mr. +Heuffler's and Mr. Vandergriff's shops. + +These payments left Jess and her mother almost as badly off as they were +before. And there was the new account started at Mr. Hargrew's. But Chet +Belding urged Jess very strongly to be his guest on Saturday, and there +was really no reason why Jess should not go. Her mother had seen Mr. +Prentice and begun furnishing items to the _Courier_ from day to day; +and the girl felt that, with care, they might be able to keep from +getting so deeply into debt again. + +No snow had fallen up to Saturday noon; but it was cold, and the clouds +threatened a feathery fall before many hours. The young folk who +gathered in the big hall of the Belding house thought little of the +cold, however. There were warm robes and blankets in the Belding auto +and in the sightseeing machine that Mr. Purcell had sent. Chet, in his +bearskin coat, looked like the original owner of the garment--especially +when he pulled the goggles down from the visor of his cap, and prepared +to go out to the car. + +"My dear fellow," drawled Prettyman Sweet, the dandy of Central High, +who was of the party, "you look howwidly fewocious, doncher know! I +wouldn't dwess in such execrable taste for any sum you could +mention--no, sir!" + +"Beauty's only skin deep, they say, Pretty," responded Chet "So, if you +were flayed, you might look quite human yourself." + +"Purt" was gorgeous in a Canadian skating suit--or so the tailor who +sold it to him had called it. It was all crimson and white, with a +fur-edged velvet cap that it really took courage to wear, and fur-topped +boots. And his gloves! they were marvels. One of them lying on the floor +of the Beldings' hall gave Topsy, Mrs. Belding's pet terrier, such a +fright that she pretty nearly barked her head off. + +She made so much noise that Lance grabbed at her and tried to put her +out of the room, Topsy still barking furiously. + +"You look out!" drawled Bobby Hargrew. "One end of that dog bites, +Lance!" + +They turned Purt around and around to get the beauties of his costume at +every angle. And they "rigged" him sorely. But the exquisite was used to +it; he would only have felt badly if they had ignored his new "get-up." + +"It's quite the thing, I assure you," he declared. "And, weally, one +should pay some attention to the styles. You fellows, weally, dress in +execrable taste." + +When the party was complete they bundled into their wraps again and +piled into the machines. Mrs. Belding had retired to her own room until +the "devastation of the barbarians," as she called it, was past; but +Mammy Jinny straightened up the hall and dining room after the young +folk with great cheerfulness. + +"Yo' know how yo' was yo'self, Miss Annie, w'en yo' was oberflowin' wid +de sperits ob youth," she said, soothingly. + +"I am sure I never overflowed quite so boisterously," sighed Mrs. +Belding. + +"No. Yo' warn't one ob de oberflowin' kind, Miss Annie," admitted the +old black woman. "But Mars' Chet an' Miss Laura, and dem friends ob +theirs, sartain sure kin kick up a mighty combobberation--yaas'm!" + +The wintry wind blew sharply past the crowd of Central High Juniors as +the Belding auto and the bigger machine struck a fast pace when once +they had cleared the city. There was lots of fun in the autos on the way +to the Sitz farm; but they were all glad to tumble out there and crowd +into the big kitchen "for a warm." + +The Swiss family were the most hospitable people in the world. Eve's +mother had a great heap of hot cakes ready for them, and there was +coffee, too, to drive out the cold. + +"We're going to take Patrick down to the pond with us to keep up the +fires while we're skating," Eve told Laura. Eve looked very pretty in +her skating rig, and she was a splendid skater, too. "Father and Otto +are somewhere down in the woods already. This cold weather coming on +marks the time for hog killing, and some of the porkers have been +running in the woods, fattening on the mast. There is an old mother hog +that has gotten quite wild, and has a litter of young ones with her that +are hard to catch. They may have to shoot her. So if you hear a gun go +off, don't be alarmed." + +The hired man, who stayed with the Sitzes all the year around, was a +comical genius and the boys knew him well. As they started on the walk +to the pond, Chet asked him: + +"Do you skate yourself, Pat?" + +"Sure, and it's an illegant skater I used to be when I was young," +declared Pat; "barrin' that I niver had thim murderin' knives on me +feet, but used ter skate on a bit of board down Donnegan's Hill." + +"He'll never own up that he doesn't know a thing," whispered Eve to +Laura and Jess, as the boys laughed over this statement of the Irishman. +"He was planting potatoes in the upper field, and all by himself, last +spring, and a man drove along the road, and stopped and asked him what +kind of potatoes they were. + +"'Sure, I know,' says Patrick. + +"'Then what kind are they?' repeated the neighbor. + +"'Sure, they're raw ones, Mr. Hurley,' says he, and Hurley came to the +house roaring with laughter over it. Nothing feazes Patrick." + +The long, sloping hill, under the chestnuts and oaks, would have made a +splendid coasting place; only there was no snow on the ground. + +"But when the snow _does_ come," cried Dora Lockwood, "if the pond is +still frozen over, won't it be a great course?" + +"The ice is all right now, at any rate," Eve reassured them. "And there +isn't a spring hole in the entire pond, Otto says." + +Patrick had brought an axe and, with the help of some of the boys, soon +had a big bonfire burning on the edge of the pond. Meanwhile the other +boys helped the girls with their skate-straps, and then got on their own +skates. + +The ice hadn't a scratch on it. It was like a great plate of glass, and +so clear in places that they could see to the bottom of the pond--where +the bottom was sandy. + +All the young folk were soon on the ice, the boys starting a hockey game +at the far end, and the girls circling around in pairs at the end +nearest to the fire. + +"That's what Mrs. Case, our physical instructor, says we ought to +learn," said Laura, watching the boys. + +"And it's jolly good fun, too," cried Bobby. + +"But suppose you turned your ankle, or fell down and tore your dress?" +suggested Nellie. "I believe hockey on the ice is too rough." + +"No game needs to be rough," declared Laura. "That isn't the spirit of +athletics. Didn't we learn how to play basketball without being rough?" + +"Even Hessie Grimes learned that," chuckled Bobby. + +At that moment a gun was fired back in the thicker woods, and then out +of the brush the girls saw an animal charging directly for the pond. +Patrick saw it, too, and leaped up from before the fire and ran toward +the beast. + +"It's a big hog!" cried Bobby. + +"That's the one they want to catch," said Eve. "She is ugly, too, I +believe." Then she raised her voice in warning to Patrick; "Look out, +Patrick! She is real cross." + +"Faith!" returned the Irishman, half squatting down in the path of the +charging sow. "It's not afraid I be of the likes of a pig. 'Tis too many +of their tails I've twisted in ould Ireland, to run from wan in +Ameriky----" + +Just then the animal spied him and went for Patrick, full tilt. There +wasn't time for the Irishman to dodge; but he _did_ spread his legs, and +the angry mother-hog ran between them. + + + + +CHAPTER X--THE MID-TERM EXAMINATION + + +The girls, who were nearest the end of the lake, watched Patrick and the +old hog in amazement. The boys came down from the far end with a chorus +of yells and laughter. + +For the Irishman, leaping up with his feet apart, descended on the back +of the charging animal, with his face toward her tail! + +The porker grunted her displeasure, and Patrick did some grunting, too; +but he was not easily scared--nor would he be shaken off. He locked his +arms tightly around the animal's body and hugged her neck with his legs, +so that she could not bite him. + +The creature kept up a deafening squealing, while out of the bush rushed +Dandy, the farmer's dog. The boys came sweeping in from the lake to join +in the sport--sport to everybody but the pig and Patrick! But Dandy got +into the scrimmage first. + +True to his instinct, the dog attempted to seize the hog by the ear, but +miscalculated and caught Patrick by the calf of the leg! + +"Moses and all the children of Israel!" bawled the Irishman. "'Tis not +fair to set two bastes onto wan! Call off yer dawg, Otto, or it's the +death of him I'll be when I git rid of the hog." + +But just then the poor hog got rid of him. She lay down and Patrick +tumbled off, kicking at the dog. Dandy seemed much surprised to discover +that he had locked his teeth on the wrong individual! + +The boys were convulsed with laughter; but the girls were afraid that +the Irishman had been seriously hurt. And, from the squealing of the +hog, they were positive that _she_ was suffering. + +However, Mr. Sitz and Otto appeared, and tied the legs of the struggling +beast, and so bore her away. They had already trapped her litter of +young ones, and Patrick limped after his master and Otto, vowing +vengeance against both the hog and the dog. + +So the boys took turns in keeping up the fire on the shore, for although +it was a clear day, the wind continued cold and blew hard. They were all +glad to hover around the blaze, now and then; and especially so when +they ate their luncheons. + +Eve had prepared a great can of chocolate and the girls had all brought +well-filled lunch boxes. Bobby was hovering about Laura's as soon as it +was opened. + +"Mammy Jinny's made you something nice, I know," she said. "Dear me, I'm +so hungry! I wish I was like the Mississippi River." + +"What's that for?" demanded Prettyman Sweet, who overheard her. "Like +the Mississippi? Fawncy!" + +"Then I'd have three mouths," exclaimed Bobby, immediately filling the +mouth she _did_ possess. + +"My word! that wouldn't be so bad an idea, would it?" proclaimed Purt, +who was a good deal of a gourmand himself. + +"I don't think much of this jam pie," complained Chet, holding up a +wedge that he had taken from his sister's basket. + +"That's not jam pie!" exclaimed Laura. "Whoever heard of jam pie?" + +"Yep. This is it," declared Chet. "The crusts are jammed right together. +There ain't enough filling." + +The wind increased toward the end of the day and it was hard to skate +against it; but the young folk had a lot of fun sailing down the length +of the pond with their coats spread for sails. + +"That was a great scheme you suggested about the kite the other day, +Laura," declared Lance Darby. "It was as good as an aeroplane." + +"What would be the matter with hitching the kite to our scooter?" +suggested Chet, who overheard him. + +The two chums owned a small iceboat which went, on Lake Luna, by the +name of "scooter." + +"Say, old man! I've got a better scheme than that!" cried Lance, +suddenly. + +"What say?" + +"Let's combine a flying machine with an iceboat and beat out everybody +on the lake this winter!" + +"Wow!" shouted his chum. "Now, you've been skating with Mother Wit and +have caught her inventive genius--it's contagious. Gee! what an idea!" + +"That's all right. Wait till you hear my scheme," said Lance, wagging +his head. + +"It ought to work fine," said Bobby Hargrew, with serious face. "All you +will have to do when you are sailing along the ice and come to open +water will be to turn a switch and jump right into the air. Save getting +your feet wet." + +"Laugh all you want to," said Lance, threateningly. "When we get it done +you girls will be glad enough to ride in it." + +"Not I!" cried Nellie Agnew. "I wouldn't ride on your old scooter as it +is. And to combine a flying machine and iceboat--whew! I guess not." + +The boys became enthusiastic, however, and they talked about it all the +way home. Lance, however, kept the important idea regarding the new +invention for Chet Belding's private ear. + +Jess Morse enjoyed the outing that Saturday, as she always enjoyed such +fun when with the Beldings; but, after all her mind was on her play. She +almost lived that play nowadays! + +And, to tell the truth, she began to neglect some of her studies in her +concentration of mind upon "The Spring Road." Her mother praised it +warmly. + +"To think that I should have a daughter who may turn out to be a real +genius!" cried Mrs. Morse. "Although it is _so_ hard to get a play +accepted by a first-class producer." + +"No. I don't want to be a genius," said Jess shaking her head. "But I +_do_ want awfully to win that prize." + +"Such a sordid child," said her mother, playfully. "I cannot imagine +one's putting such emphasis on mere money. It isn't genius, after all, I +fear. Our friends would call you eminently practical, I suppose," and +the irresponsible lady sighed. + +But if Jess had no impractical thoughts regarding _why_ she wished to +win the prize, she made the mistake, just the same, of letting Miss +Carrington catch her two or three times in recitation hour. Gee Gee was +down on her like a hawk. + +"Miss Morse, what does this mean?" demanded the stern teacher, eyeing +Jess with particular grimness through her thick spectacles. + +She had called the culprit to her desk just before the noon recess and +now showed her the enormity of her offenses. + +"You are falling back. There is something on your mind beside your +textbooks, that is very sure, Miss Morse. I cannot lay it to athletics +at present, I suppose, for there seems to be a slight let-up in the +activities of you young ladies in that direction," and she smiled her +very scornfullest smile. Miss Carrington abhorred athletics. + +"But we have another matter interfering with the placid current of our +school life. Are _you_, Miss Morse, one of the young ladies who are +attempting to write a play?" + +"Ye--yes, ma'am," stammered Jess, blushing to her ears. + +"Ah! so I thought. I believe I can pick out all these playwrights by a +reference to their recitation papers. And this afternoon comes our +mid-term examination. Let me tell you, Miss Morse, that you must do +better this afternoon, or I shall take your case up with Mr. Sharp." + +She was folding and tying with a narrow ribbon some papers as she spoke, +and her eyes snapped behind her glasses. + +"These are the questions in my hands now, Miss Morse," said Gee. "And +let me tell you, they are searching ones. Be prepared, Miss--be +prepared!" + +And she popped them into the top drawer on the right-hand side of her +desk. But before she could shut down the roll top and so lock the desk, +Miss Gould appeared at the door of the room and beckoned to Miss +Carrington. The latter rose hurriedly and departed, leaving her desk +open. And likewise leaving Jess Morse, her hungry eyes fixed upon that +drawer in which the examination questions lay! + +Just a peep at those papers might have helped Jess a whole lot in the +coming hour of trial. + + + + +CHAPTER XI--MISSING + + +Alice Long, who was Short and Long's sister, was entertaining some of +the girls when Jess Morse came into the recreation hall with something +her little brother Tommy had said. + +"Tommy's just going to school, you know, and he's beginning to ask +questions. I guess he stumps his teachers in the primary grade. He heard +the arithmetic class reciting and learned that only things of the same +denomination can be subtracted from each other. + +"'Now, you know that ain't so, Alice,' says he to me. 'For, can't you +take four quarts of milk from three cows?'" + +Jess didn't feel like laughing; what was coming after recess troubled +her. She felt a certainty that she would fail, and she could not get +over it. + +"Besides," she said to herself, "Gee Gee will put the hardest questions +on the list to me--I just know she will." + +"What's the matter, Jess?" asked Laura, coming up to her and squeezing +her arm. "Something is troubling you, honey." + +"And it will trouble you after recess," replied Jess, mournfully. + +"The old exams?" + +"Uh-huh!" + +"Afraid, are you?" laughed Mother Wit. + +"I'm just scared to death. And Gee Gee knows I'm not prepared and she +will be down on me like a hawk." + +"Maybe not." + +"She knows I am weak. She just told me so, and she showed me the papers +and said there were awfully hard questions in them. She just delights in +catching us girls. And she says all of us who are trying for the prize +are neglecting our regular work." + +"I expect we are, Jess," admitted Laura. "Oh, dear! it's not easy to +write a play, is it?" + +"I don't know," said Jess, hesitatingly. "I'm not sure that I am writing +a regular play. But I'm writing something!" + +"What does your mother say about it?" + +"Oh, of course she praises it. She would." + +"I bet you win the prize, Jess!" exclaimed Laura. + +"No such luck. And, anyway, I will take no prize this afternoon. Gee Gee +threatens to take my standing up with Mr. Sharp if I don't do well, +too." + +"Oh, don't worry, dear. Perhaps you will come out all right." + +Bobby came swinging along and bumped into them. "Oh, hullo!" exclaimed +she. "Say! how do you pronounce 's-t-i-n-g-y'? Heh?" + +"Man or wasp?" returned Mother Wit, quickly. + +Jess laughed. "You can't catch Laura with your stale jokes, Bobby," she +gibed. + +"That's all right; I asked for information. But you girls don't know +anything. You're writing plays. That's enough to give you softening of +the brain. The folks that know it all are the squabs," chuckled Bobby, +referring to the freshman class. "What do you suppose one of them sprang +this morning?" + +"I haven't the least idea," spoke Laura. + +"Why, she was asked to define the difference between instinct and +intelligence, and she said: 'Instinct knows everything needed without +learning it; but human beings have reason, so we have to study ourselves +half blind to keep from being perfect fools!' Now, what do you know +about that?" + +"I believe that child was right," sighed Jess. "If I only had instinct I +wouldn't have to worry about the questions Gee Gee is going to give us +this afternoon." + +"Oh, say not so!" gasped Bobby, rolling her eyes and putting up both +hands. "I am trying to forget about those exams----There's the bell! +Back to the mines!" she groaned, and rushed to take her place in the +line. + +The Junior class crowded into Miss Carrington's room and took their +seats. The examination covered several of the more important studies. +The teacher took her place, adjusted the thick glasses she always wore, +and looked sternly over the room. + +"Young ladies," she said, in her most severe manner, "I hope you are all +prepared for the review. But I doubt it--I seriously doubt it. Some of +you have been falling behind of late in a most astonishing manner, and I +fear for your standing--I fear for it." + +This manner of approaching the exam, was, of course, very soothing to +the nervous girls; but it was Gee Gee's way and they should all have +been used to it by this time. She had opened the drawer of her desk--the +top right-hand drawer--and was fumbling in it. + +Pretty soon she gave her entire attention to sorting the papers in this +drawer, which seemed to be pretty full. As the moments passed, her +manner betrayed the fact that the teacher was much disturbed. + +"Oh! I hope she's lost 'em!" exclaimed the wicked Bobby Hargrew. + +"I don't," returned the girl she spoke to. "We'd suffer for it." + +"Well, I got my fingers crossed!" chuckled Bobby. "She can't accuse me. +I wasn't near her old desk." + +"Wasn't it locked?" whispered another of the waiting girls. + +Miss Carrington heard the bustle in the class, so she sat up and looked +out over the room with asperity. + +"I want to know what this means, girls," she said, snappily. "My desk +was left open by chance while I was out of the room for perhaps ten +minutes. The examination papers were in this drawer. Now I cannot find +them. Has somebody done this for a joke?" and she looked hard in Bobby's +direction. + +"Look out, Bob," warned one of her mates; "crossing your fingers isn't +going to save you." + +But suddenly, even while she was speaking, Miss Carrington seemed to be +stabbed by a thought. She started to her feet and turned her gaze upon +the part of the room in which Josephine Morse sat. And Jess's face was +aflame! + +"Miss Morse!" + +Gee Gee's voice was never of a pleasing quality. Now it startled every +girl in the room. Jess slowly arose, and she clung to the corner of her +desk a moment for support. + +"Do you remember seeing me put those question papers into this drawer? +_Do_ you?" demanded the teacher. + +"Ye--yes, ma'am," replied Jess. + +"You were standing right here at my desk?" + +Jess nodded, while the whole class watched her now paling face. Many of +the girls looked amazed; some few looked angry. Laura Belding's eyes +fairly blazed and she half rose from her seat. + +"Sit down, young ladies!" commanded Miss Carrington, who was quick to +see these suggestive actions on the part of the class. "Come here to me, +Miss Morse." + +Jess walked up the aisle. After that first moment her strength came back +and she held her head up and stared straight into the face of the +teacher. The tears that had sprung to her eyes she winked back. + +"I had called you to my desk, Miss Morse," said Gee Gee, in a low voice, +and staring hard at the girl, "and had pointed out to you that this +particular examination would be a trying one. Is that not a fact?" + +"Yes, ma'am," admitted Jess. + +"Miss Gould called me and I hastily thrust the papers, which I +particularly told you were the question papers, into this drawer. Did I +not?" + +"You did." + +"And then I hurried out of the room without locking the drawer--without +pulling down the roll top of the desk, indeed. Is that not so, Miss +Morse?" + +"It is," said Jess, getting better control of her voice now. + +"And you were left standing here. The other girls were gone. Now, Miss +Morse, I freely admit that I am culpable in leaving such important +papers in the way. I should have locked them up. I presume the +temptation was great----" + +"I beg your pardon, Miss Carrington!" exclaimed the girl, more indignant +than frightened now. "You are accusing me without reason. I would not do +such a thing----" + +"Not ordinarily, perhaps," interposed Miss Carrington. "But it all came +to you in a moment, I presume. And you did not have time to put them +back." + +This she had said in a low voice, so that nobody but Jess heard her. But +the girl's voice rose higher as she grew hysterical. + +"Miss Carrington, you are unfair! I never touched them!" + +"You must admit, Miss Morse, that circumstances are very much against +you," declared the teacher. + +"I admit nothing of the kind. A dozen people might have been in the room +while you were out and the desk was open. Ten minutes is a long time." + +"You seem to have thought out your defense very well, Miss Morse," said +Gee Gee, sternly. "But it will not do. It is too serious a matter to +overlook. I shall send for Mr. Sharp," and she touched the button which +rang the bell in the principal's office. + + + + +CHAPTER XII--COUNSEL FOR THE DEFENSE + + +"Come to order!" commanded Miss Carrington, rapping on her desk with a +hard knuckle. + +She quickly gave the class in general a task and sent Jess to her seat. + +"I will speak with you later, young lady," she said, in her most +scornful way. + +Jess's eyes were almost blinded by tears when she went back to her seat. +But they were angry tears. The unkind suspicion and accusation of the +teacher cut deeply into the girl's soul. She could see some of the girls +looking at her askance--girls like Hester Grimes and Lily Pendleton, and +their set. Of course, they had not heard all that Miss Carrington said; +but they could easily suspect. And the whole class knew that the trouble +was over the disappearance of the papers for the review. + +Bobby wickedly whispered to her neighbor that she hoped the papers +wouldn't ever be found. But that would not help Jess Morse out of +trouble. + +To Jess herself, hiding her face behind an open book, the printed page +of which was a mere blur before her eyes, it seemed as though this +trouble would overwhelm her. It was worse than the poverty she and her +mother had to face. It was worse than having no party dress fit to be +seen in. It was worse than being refused credit at Mr. Closewick's +grocery store. It was worse than having old Mr. Chumley hound them for +the rent + +Reviewing the whole affair more calmly, Jess could understand that Miss +Carrington would consider her guilty--if she could bring herself to +think any girl of Central High would do such a thing. + +Jess sat there, dumb, unable to work, unable to concentrate her mind on +anything but the horribly unjust accusation of her teacher. How she +disliked Gee Gee! + +The other girls were not particularly devoted to the task set them for +the moment, either. Laura did not sit very near her chum in this room. +She asked permission to speak with Jess and Miss Carrington said: + +"No, Miss Belding; sit down!" and she said it in her very grimmest way. +Usually the teacher was very lenient with Mother Wit, for of all her +pupils Laura gave her the least trouble. + +A feeling of expectancy controlled the whole roomful of girls. It came +to a crisis--every girl jumped!--when the door opened and Mr. Sharp +walked in. + +The principal of Central High seldom troubled the girls' class rooms +with his presence. When he addressed the young ladies it was usually _en +masse_. He trusted Miss Carrington, almost entirely, in the management +of the girls. + +His rosy cheeks shone and his eyes twinkled through his glasses as he +walked quickly to the platform and sat down beside Gee Gee at her table, +which faced the girls, whereas her roll-top desk was at the rear of the +platform, against the wall of the room. + +Principal and teacher talked in low voices for some moments. Mr. Sharp +cast no confusing glances about the room. He ignored the girls, as +though his entire business was with their teacher. + +At length he looked around, smiling as usual, Mr. Sharp was a pleasant +and fair-minded man and the girls all liked him. He had their undivided +attention in a moment, without the rapping of Miss Carrington's hard +knuckle on the table top. Bobby said that that knuckle of Gee Gee's +middle finger had been abnormally developed by continued bringing the +class to order. + +"Young ladies!" said Gee Gee, snappily. "Mr. Sharp will speak to you." + +The principal looked just a little annoyed--just a little; and for only +the moment while he was rising to speak. He never liked to hear his +pupils treated like culprits. He usually treated them at assembly with +elaborate politeness if he had to criticise, and with perfect +good-fellowship if praise was in order. This little scene staged by Miss +Carrington grated on him. + +"Our good Miss Carrington," said he, softly, "has sustained a loss. +Important papers have been mislaid, we will say." + +He raised his hand quickly when Miss Carrington would have spoken, and +she was wise enough to let him go on in his own way. + +"Now, the question is: How have the papers been lost, and where are they +at the present moment? It is a problem--in deduction, we will say. We +must all partake of the character of some famous detective. It used to +be a rule in our family when I was a boy that, if a thing were lost, it +was wisest to look for it in the most unlikely places first. I can +remember once, when father lost a horse, that mother insisted in shaking +out all the hens' nests and giving them new nests. But father never +_did_ find that horse." + +The girls had begun to smile now; and some of them giggled. Miss +Carrington looked as she usually did when Mr. Sharp joked--it pained her +and set her teeth on edge. Bobby declared she looked as though she had +bitten into a green persimmon. + +"Joking aside, however," continued the principal. "This loss is a +serious matter. Suppose you young ladies suggest how the question papers +to be used in this mid-term examination have been whisked out of this +drawer of Miss Carrington's desk, and hidden elsewhere? Can it be +possible that it is the prank of a pixy? Of course, all of you young +ladies are too serious-minded to do such a thing yourselves." + +There was a general laugh, then, and the strain of the last few minutes +began to be relieved. Somehow, even Jess Morse felt better. + +"To suggest that anybody in this class--the Junior class of Central +High--would deliberately misappropriate these questions is beyond +imagination," declared Mr. Sharp, with sudden gravity. "It is a mistake. +The mistake is explainable. Has anyone a suggestion to make?" + +It was Laura Belding who broke the silence. She asked her question very +modestly, but her cheeks were flushed, and she was evidently indignant. + +"Is--is it positive that the papers were put in that top drawer that +Miss Carrington now has open?" + +"Ask Miss Morse!" snapped the teacher, before Mr. Sharp could reply. + +"We will. Nothing like corroboration," said the principal, with a bow +and smile. "Miss Morse?" + +"Yes, sir," said Jess, in a low voice, rising. "I saw her put them +there. She tied them into a bundle by themselves." + +"You are observant, Miss Morse," said the principal, smiling again. +"Thank you. Now, Miss Belding?" for Laura was still standing. + +"I notice that the drawer is very full," said Laura, quietly. "May I +come upon the platform and look at it?" + +"Certainly," responded Mr. Sharp; but Miss Carrington flushed again, and +exclaimed: + +"I have searched that drawer thoroughly. The papers are not there." + +Again Mr. Sharp made a little deprecatory gesture, "Come forward, Miss +Belding," he said. + +Mother Wit gave her chum a single reassuring glance. Somehow, without +reason, that look comforted Jess. She still stood beside her desk, too +anxious to sit down again, while Laura walked quietly forward. + +"That drawer is very full, Mr. Sharp," she said, composedly enough. "May +I take it out?" + +"Oh, I've had it out and felt behind it," urged Miss Carrington, all of +a flutter now. + +"Maybe Miss Belding can show us something we did not know," said the +principal, in his bantering way. It had been he who gave Laura her +nickname, and he thought a great deal of the girl. He knew that she had +some serious intention or she would not have come forward. + +Laura pulled out the over-full drawer and set it down upon the carpet. + +"Oh, it isn't there," said Miss Carrington. "The packet was tied with a +mauve ribbon--a narrow ribbon----" + +Laura pulled out the next drawer. + +"Oh, that's quite useless," exclaimed the lady teacher. "And to have +everything disarranged in this way----" + +"We must give the counsel for the defense every opportunity, Miss +Carrington," said the principal softly. + +Laura drew out the third drawer--just glancing at the top layer of +papers--and then the fourth and last. No bundle tied with a mauve ribbon +appeared. + +"Not there!" exclaimed Gee Gee, and was there a spice of satisfaction in +her voice? + +But Laura dropped upon her knees, ran her arm to the shoulder into the +aperture where the last drawer came out, and drew forth the missing +packet of papers, which lay crowded back upon the carpet. + +"There!" said Mr. Sharp, quite in a matter-of-fact tone, "I have +suggested to the Board of Education more than once that all these old +unsanitary desks should be done away with. The only roll-top desk fit to +use in the schools are those which stand upon feet, the bottom of the +lower drawer being a few inches from the floor. Thank you, Miss Belding! +We will now go on with the afternoon session." + +But he rested his hand for a moment upon Laura's shoulder, as she was +about to step down after returning the drawers to their places in the +desk. + +"The counsel for the defense did very well," he whispered, and then left +the room as quietly as he had entered it. + +Mr. Sharp had relieved Miss Carrington of the embarrassment of his +presence; but she certainly was troubled by the untoward incident. Laura +returned to her seat by the way of Jess's and boldly squeezed her hand. +And Jess thanked her, in her heart. The rebound from being suspected of +the loss of the papers gave her such relief that the coming examination +seemed much less terrible. Or perhaps, Miss Carrington was, after all, a +little easy on her that afternoon; for Jess Morse came through the +grilling with surprisingly high marks. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII--A WAY IS OPENED + + +But Jess had had ample warning. There would be something important heard +from Gee Gee if she neglected the regular work of her classes to devote +time and thought to that wonderful play. + +It was hard to keep her mind off a task that had so gripped her heart +and mind. "The Spring Road" was in her thought almost continually. She +even dreamed about it at night. And it was a veritable wrench to get her +mind off the idyl of youth she was writing to set it upon the grim +realities of Latin, English, the higher mathematics, and other school +tasks. + +It seemed to Jess Morse as though no other piece of writing could ever +be so enthralling as this she had undertaken. When she had begun it it +was with fear and trembling. The two hundred dollar prize was what +spurred her to the task. But now, she fairly loved it! + +"The Spring Road" was a fantasy--a comedy--a love story; it was all +three in one, and she was writing it with the limitations of those who +would probably play it, in mind. + +Many of the contestants for Mrs. Kerrick's prize thought not at all +about the players; but already in Jess's mind was fixed who, of her +schoolmates, would best fit into the parts. There was a character who +could not gain much sympathy from the audience, but who could wear +beautiful clothes--that would just suit Lily Pendleton. + +And for the Spring Spirits, in the allegory, _Budding Tree_ and +_Laughing Brook_, who could be better fitted than Dora and Dorothy +Lockwood? While the heroine of the story must be beautiful Kate Protest, +of the Senior class, and the _Truant Lover_ the sparkling Launcelot +Darby. + +At home matters were not going as smoothly as Jess had hoped, after her +mother obtained regular work upon the Centerport _Courier_. It was nice +to get the money regularly for that work; but somehow Mrs. Morse could +not see the wisdom of "paying as you go." Jess could not always take +cash with her when she went to the stores; and if her mother chanced to +be out herself and saw something particularly nice that Jess was likely +to fancy, she ordered it in without regard to how it was to be paid for. + +But that had always been Mrs. Morse's way. She was over-generous with +Jess while she, herself, went with shabby gloves and mended shoes. But +any sensible plan of retrenchment in their household expenses had never +been evolved in her mind. + +How they were to meet the added burden of the January rent never seemed +to trouble her. Jess only spoke of it once during that first fortnight +in December; then it disturbed her mother so much that the lamp of +genius refused to burn for a whole day, and, with a sigh, the girl gave +over discussing the point. + +Checks for her mother's stories came few and far between these days, +Jess feared that they would soon owe Mr. Hargrew as large a bill as they +had at Mr. Closewick's store. And as for a new dress--well, the idea of +that was as far in the offing as ever. + +All the girls she knew well were so busy scribbling away at their prize +plays that, had Jess been free herself out of school hours, she would +have been unable to find any of her usual companions at leisure. + +Even Chet Belding, who was always at her beck and call, was terribly +busy these days. He and Lance Darby were hard at work upon some +wonderful sort of ice craft they were building down in Monson's old +boathouse, near the Girls' Branch Athletic League field and boathouse. + +Each day saw the wintry winds grow colder, and soon the ice upon Lake +Luna was thick enough to bear. Some of the more reckless boys had skated +out to the steamboat channel, which had been sawed from the open water +in the middle of the lake, so that the freight boats from Lumberport and +Keyport could get to their docks. + +Ice of such thickness on Lake Luna at this early date, however, +surprised even that apocryphal person, "the oldest inhabitant." And Jess +Morse would have been glad of a new coat, or the set of furs that her +mother had talked about. When she started for school some mornings, the +first blast of keen air off the lake seemed to cut through her like a +knife. She wouldn't have had her mother know how really thin her apparel +seemed for anything in the world. + +And, very wisely, she kept up her gym. work faithfully. A few minutes' +vigorous exercise after the regular day's work at school was finished +put her in a glow, made her breathe more deeply and "put a shine in her +eyes," as Bobby expressed it. + +"There isn't a girl in the class who doesn't need brisking up in the +gym. this weather--unless it's Eve Sitz," confided Bobby to Laura and +Jess as they left the gymnasium building together one afternoon. "Girls +are just like cats; they all like to mope around the register or the +steam radiator in cold weather. Why, Lil Pendleton wears a lace shawl +over her shoulders in the house, and hangs over the gas-log like an old +woman. We all ought to get back into basketball--and at the rowing +machines--again. Once a week on the court isn't enough to keep us +alive." + +"If you knew the number of things Eve Sitz does, in and out of doors, +before she comes to school in the morning, and after she gets home +again, you wouldn't wonder that she keeps her color, and is so brisk and +strong," laughed Laura. + +"I expect she is a busy little bee," admitted Bobby. + +"She helps milk the cows night and morning----" + +"There!" interrupted the irrepressible Bobby. "That's what I've always +intended to ask Eve; but I forget it." + +"What's that?" asked Jess. + +"Why, when you have finished milking a cow, how do you turn the milk +off?" + +"Isn't she the ridiculous girl?" chuckled Laura, as Bobby ran up the +side street toward her own door. Then Mother Wit turned on her chum, +with her brisk, bird-like way: "How's the play going, Jess?" + +"I'm--I'm afraid it's finished," said her chum, slowly. + +"'Afraid!'" repeated Laura, in amazement. + +"Yes. As far as I can finish it." + +"But you're not going to give it up in the middle?" cried Laura. + +"No. It is complete. Only it doesn't satisfy me," returned Jess, shaking +her head. "And it never will." + +"Ah! there speaks real genius!" declared Laura, smiling. + +"Don't you believe it," was her friend's hasty reply. "I just don't know +enough to write it well enough to suit me." + +"Modesty!" + +"Sense," corrected Jess, laughing a little dolefully. "How are you +getting along?" + +"Just as Mr. Sharp said, I am no female Shakespeare," said Laura. "But I +have hopes that maybe my play isn't so bad." + +Jess was not sanguine about "The Spring Road," however. She knew that it +might be written so much better, if one only knew how! + +And while they discussed the play Jess heard somebody calling her by +name. Laura grabbed her arm and pointed. + +"Isn't that Mrs. Prentice--the very rich Mrs. Prentice--in her electric +runabout? And, I declare, Jess! she's calling to you." + +"Yes. I know her; she wants me," said Jess breathlessly, and she ran +across the street to where the electric car was standing beside the +curb. + +"I want you, child," said the lady, with decision. "Can you excuse +yourself to your friend?" + +Jess waved her hand to Laura, and called: + +"I'll be up after supper, dear." + +Laura nodded, and smiled, and went on; but she was evidently puzzled as +she turned to gaze after the runabout as it moved off swiftly with her +chum beside the lady in the magnificent furs. + +"And how are you and your mother getting along?" asked Mrs. Prentice, as +soon as the car had started. + +"Why--why about as usual, Mrs. Prentice," stammered Jess, who was much +puzzled as to why the lady should want her to take this ride. "Only +mother is regularly employed by Mr. Prentice, and is very grateful for +the work--as you must know, ma'am." + +"Oh, don't speak of that," said Mrs. Prentice, laughing. "I fancy that +Pat is getting full measure for his money; he usually does. But tell me, +child, are you going to remain in that cottage of Mr. Chumley's?" + +"Why--I really don't know, Mrs. Prentice. There seems no other place to +go----" + +"He is horribly overcharging you, child," said the lady, quickly. + +"I know. But there are so few small places in decent +neighborhoods--mother says she doesn't know what to do about it." + +"I fancy, Jessica----Is that your name?" + +"Josephine, Mrs. Prentice; only they all call me Jess." + +"Very well--Jess. Sounds a good practical name--and you are a practical +girl; I can see that. Now, Jess, I fancy you have to do something +yourself toward moving, to get your mother started, eh?" + +"Oh! but I don't know where to go----" + +The car began to slow down. Mrs. Prentice had run into a quiet side +street, not two blocks from the cottage at the foot of Whiffle Street. + +"See here," said the lady, stopping the motor and preparing to alight. +"I want you to see this little dove-cote--that's what I have always +called it. It is set behind a grassy front yard and there is a little +garden at the back. You'll love it in spring and summer." + +"Oh, but Mrs. Prentice, is it empty?" + +"It's too empty. That's the trouble. The tenant I had left +unexpectedly." She neglected to say that she had paid the tenant a +certain sum to leave the cottage and move into another house. "I don't +want the house empty during the cold weather. I have paid to have a fire +kept up in the furnace for a week so that the pipes would not freeze. +Come in." + +It was a dear little cottage; Jess Morse was delighted with it. And so +much more convenient than Mr. Chumley's. Besides, there was a good +reason why the owner paid to have the fires kept up all this week of +cold weather. Every room was fresh with paint and paper--the smell of +varnish was still plain. It was really a delightful little place and the +furniture at home would fit into the several rooms so nicely! + +Jess Morse saw all this at once. She was delighted----And two dollars +less a month than the cottage in which they had lived so long! + +"It is a way opened, Mrs. Prentice!" she murmured. "Better than we could +ever expect. I thank you from the very bottom of my heart!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV--IN SUSPENSE + + +But when Jess got home--and Mrs. Prentice took her there in the car, but +would not come in herself--she had hard work to satisfy her mother that +such a change as this opportunity suggested was a good one for them to +make. In short, Mrs. Morse did not enthuse. + +"Just think of the trouble of it all," she sighed. "My dear Jess, we +have been here so long----" + +"But Mr. Chumley doesn't want us any longer," interposed Jess. + +"Tut, tut! that is only the old gentleman's way. He really will not +raise our rent, do you think?" + +"Why, Mother!" expostulated the girl, "he has already raised it and +threatened to put us out if we don't find the increased three dollars on +the first." + +"I am afraid you were not politic enough," said her mother. + +"One cannot be politic with Mr. Chumley. He wants his house for another +tenant; he has as good as said so. And _do_ come and see Mrs. Prentice's +little cottage. It is a _love_." + +Even after she had seen it, however, Mrs. Morse was doubtful. She shrank +from the change. + +"And think of the expense of moving," she declared. + +"But the two dollars less we pay a month will soon pay for _that_," said +Jess, eagerly. + +"Well--er--perhaps," admitted her mother, doubtfully. + +Jess had to do it all, however. She had to attend to every detail of the +change. Fortunately her mother received a check of some size and the +daughter obtained a part of it for current expenses. She hired a +truckman, packed most of their possessions after school hours, and saw +to the setting up of their goods and chattels in the new home. + +There were several tons of furnace coal in the cellar of the new home. +In the old cottage there had been no heater. Mrs. Prentice told Jess +that she could pay for the coal a little at a time, and the girl gladly +availed herself of this advantage. + +For the winter promised to be a severe one. Since frost had set in in +earnest there had been no let-up. Jess and her mother moved during the +short holiday vacation. The day school closed; the contestants for the +prize offered by Mrs. Kerrick handed in their plays. The announcement of +the successful one would be after the intermission--on the first Monday +of the New Year. + +When the Morses really came to remove their goods from the house in +which they had lived so long, old Mr. Chumley would have liked to get +out an injunction against their doing so. + +"I never thought you'd do it, Widder!" he croaked, having hurried over +the minute he heard the moving man was at the door. "Why--why mebbe we +could have split the difference. P'r'aps three dollars a month more was +a leetle steep." + +"Oh, dear me!" sighed Mrs. Morse. "Really, Mr. Chumley, this is Jess's +doings. She thinks the change will be better for us----" + +"Now then! I wouldn't let no young'un snap me like I was the end of a +whip!" cried the old man. "You bundle your things back into the house, +and we'll call it only a one-fifty raise." + +But here Jess interfered. "Are you prepared to take two dollars off the +rent, instead of adding any, and will you make the repairs we have been +asking for all this year, Mr. Chumley?" she demanded, briskly. + +"My goodness me! I can't. It ain't possible. The property don't bring me +enough as it is." + +"Then there's no use talking to us," said Jess, drawing her arm through +her mother's. "Mrs. Prentice's house is all freshly done over, and has a +heater, which this house hasn't, and everything is in spick and span +order." + +"That Mrs. Prentice! I might ha' knowed it!" cackled Mr. Chumley. "And +she was for having you arrested for stealing once." + +This was the very first Mrs. Morse had heard about the night Jess had +had her queer experience, and she had to be told all about it now. She +saw at once that her own regular work for the _Courier_ arose out of her +daughter's acquaintance with the wealthy Mrs. Prentice. + +"And she is one of the leaders in our Hill society!" gasped the poor +lady. "I declare! I shall never be able to face her again--although I +have only a bowing acquaintance with her. She will very well know who is +putting all the society items into the paper." + +"Well, it's honest," said Jess, stubbornly. + +"My goodness me! How practical you are, Jess," exclaimed her mother. +"Isn't anything but bread-and-butter, and such things, appealing to you +in life, child?" + +Jess did not answer. She was naturally as frivolous of mind as any other +girl of her age, only the happenings in their domestic life of the last +few weeks had made her far more thoughtful. + +And really, the little dove-cote, as Mrs. Prentice had called their new +home, was a veritable love of a place! Mrs. Morse had to admit herself +that it was a great improvement over the house where they had lived so +long. + +As it was vacation week, she let Jess go right ahead to settle things +while she stuck to the typewriter. And Jess was glad to have plenty to +occupy her mind. The suspense of waiting for the committee to decide +upon the winner of the prize was hard to endure indeed. + +One evening, however, Chet came after her, for there was a big moonlight +skating party on Lake Luna. By this time people who had horses and +sleighs had made quite a trotting course from Centerport to Keyport in +one direction, and from Centerport to Lumberport at the other end of the +lake. + +There were certain motor enthusiasts, too, who had rigged their cars so +that they would travel on the ice; but Chet Belding and Lance Darby had +beaten them all. The trotting course hugged the shore, the skaters +followed the same course, but farther out on the ice, and beyond, toward +the middle of the lake, the iceboats had free swing. And there were +several very fast "scooters" and the like upon Lake Luna. + +But Laura's brother and his chum declared that "they'd got 'em all beat +to a stiff froth!" And on this night they produced the finished product +of their joint work for the last several weeks. + +"What do we call it? The _Blue Streak!_" declared Chet. "And that's the +way she travels. We tried her out this morning and----Well, you girls +will admit that you never traveled fast before." + +"My goodness me, Laura! Do you think it is safe for us to venture with +them?" demanded Jess. + +"If Chet brings me home in pieces he knows what mother will do to him," +returned her chum, laughing. + +The novel boat certainly attracted considerable attention when the boys +ran it out of the old boathouse and pushed it far away from the skating +course. It combined the principles of an aircraft with runners of the +familiar iceboat. + +"Just call it an aero-iceyacht, and let it go at that," said Chet. "That +hits it near enough." + +"And it really can sail in the air or on the ice--like a hydroplane?" +demanded Jess. + +"You'll think so," Chet assured her. + +The boat was driven by a propeller similar to those on aeroplanes; and +this propeller was fastened to the crossbeam on which were the two +forward runners--somewhat similar to the mast on the ordinary lake +iceboat. The body and rudder plank, at right angles to this crossbeam, +supported the two-cylinder gasoline engine, which Chet bought at the +motor repair shop of Mr. Purcell. + +It was a fourteen-horse-power engine, water-cooled, and geared with a +chain to the propeller. + +"We tried a belt first," said Lance; "but the blamed thing slipped so +that old Chet evolved the chain-gear idea. Great, eh?" + +"How can we tell till we see it work?" demanded Laura. + +"And you don't have to lie down for 'low bridge' when the boom goes over +on this iceyacht!" cried Jess, enthusiastically. "We can sit up." + +"All the time," agreed Lance. + +"I think it's simply great!" declared Laura. + +"All because you, Mother Wit, suggested using the kite for motive power +that day," said her brother, admiringly. "That gave us the idea. If a +kite would give motive power to a man skating, why not use a more +up-to-date air-power scheme on the ice?" + +"And it worked!" shouted Lance. + +"Oh, hurry!" cried Jess. "I'm crazy to see how it sails." + +The boys placed the girls amidships, and showed them how to cling to the +straps on either side. Lance took his place on the crossbeam--to act as +weight on either end if such balance was needed; Chet took the tiller. + +"Open her up!" the latter commanded his chum. "Only quarter round with +the switch when the engine gets her stroke. Now, careful! Hang on, +girls!" + +The next moment the engine began to throb regularly, and the blades of +the propeller whirled. In half a minute they had gained such momentum +that the eye could not distinguish the blades themselves--they simply +made a blur in the moonlight. + +The craft lunged ahead. + + + + +CHAPTER XV--A MILE A MINUTE + + +The moon, hanging low upon the horizon, was young but brilliant. The air +was so keen and clear that without the help of the moonlight it seemed +as though the stars must have flooded the lake with white light. + +Nearer the southern shore the jingle of sleigh-bells and the laughter +and shouting of the skaters marked the revelers who gave a free course +to the iceboats out here nearer the open water. For both east and west +of Cavern Island, which lay in the middle of Lake Luna, opposite +Centerport, the ice was either unsafe, or there were long stretches of +open water. The freight boats up and down the lake kept this channel +open. + +But there was a wide and safer course before the flying aero-iceboat. +And soon she was moving so fast that the girls heard nothing but the +shriek of the wind rushing by. + +Here and there before them lanterns glowed like huge fireflies. These +lights were in the rigging of several ice-yachts. Chet and Lance had a +pair of automobile searchlights rigged forward on their own boat. + +Another yacht had started from the old boathouse at about the time our +friends and their new-fangled craft got under way. There were girls +aboard it, too; but at first the Beldings and Jess and Lance did not +recognize the other party. + +The strange yacht was distinguished, however, by a red and green lamp. +As Chet had been slow in starting, the other boat got ahead. But now, +although the wind was fair and the other yacht traveled splendidly, the +aero-iceboat bore down upon it, beating it out and leaving it behind +like an express train going by a freight. + +However, Chet would not allow Lance to throw on all speed. There were +too many other craft on the ice before them--and it was night. + +The lights of the City of Centerport soon fell behind them; then, almost +at once, they picked up the lights of Keyport at the extreme end of the +lake. They were traveling some! + +Chet had strapped on a megaphone, which he had borrowed from Short and +Long, who was coxswain of the boys' Central High eight-oared shell, and +through this he shouted his orders to Lance. They ran down within a mile +of Keyport, and then shut off the engine and circled about on the +momentum they had gained. There were too many skaters and sleighs on the +ice down here to make iceboating either safe or pleasurable. + +"My goodness me! Wasn't that fun?" gasped Jess. + +"Felt like you was traveling some, eh?" + +"Oh, Chet! it was great!" + +"It certainly is a fine boat, Bobby," agreed Laura. "You and Launcelot +have done well." + +"Wait!" said Lance, warningly. + +"Wait for what?" demanded Laura. + +"We didn't travel that time. We were only preparing you--warming her up, +as it were. Wait till we let her out." + +"My goodness!" cried Jess. "Can you go faster?" + +"We'll show you, going home," said Chet. + +Just then the boat with the green and red light swooped down upon them +and a voice shouted: + +"What kind of a contraption is that you've got there, Belding?" + +"Hullo!" exclaimed Chet. "That's Ira Sobel's yacht. Ira is Purt Sweet's +cousin." Then he answered: "Oh, this is a little rigging of my own, Mr. +Sobel. But she can travel. Rather beat's your _Nightkawk_, eh?" + +"Well, she did that time," admitted Sobel, doubtfully. + +"My goodness me!" the friends heard the Central High dandy exclaim. "I +weally wouldn't want to travel any faster, Ira. I--I haven't weally got +my breath yet!" + +"Oh, I say!" cried another voice from the iceboat, and they recognized +Lily Pendleton's. "What do you think about the prize? Did you hear?" + +"Why, they haven't decided on the best play yet, have they?" returned +Jess, eagerly, and before her chum could speak. + +"No, But I heard they'd put it all into Mr. Monterey's hands. He's the +manager of the Opera House, you know. And mother is very well acquainted +with him. You girls laughed at my play----" + +"Not I, Lily," interrupted Laura, good-naturedly. "I was too afraid that +the rest of you might have a chance to laugh at mine." + +"Well, I bet I've a good chance to win. Mr. Monterey is real nice, and +mother is going to see him." + +"Pooh!" exclaimed Chet. "She's one of those people who think influence +brings things about. Don't you be worried, girls; I bet Mr. Sharp won't +let anybody get that prize through favoritism." + +"That's very encouraging, Chet," said Jess. "But perhaps Lily will win +it. You know, she goes to plays more than any other girl in the Junior +class of Central High, that's true. And she reads novels--real silly +ones. Maybe she knows how to write just what would please a theatrical +manager." + +"Pooh!" said Laura, "I'm not giving up all hope yet--especially because +of Lil Pendleton's say-so." + +"Now, look out!" shouted Lance. "All ready to go back, Chet?" + +"Start her!" exclaimed his chum, "Cling tight, girls--and take a good +breath. I want to time this trip. It's all of nine miles to the starting +point and we'll show you----" + +His voice trailed off and the girls did not hear the rest of his speech. +The big propeller-wings began to beat the air, and the sound rose to a +keen buzzing. Chet snapped his watch back into his pocket, raised his +hand, and the iceboat tore ahead. + +In twenty seconds the wind rushed past them so that the girls were +forced to bend their heads. The way was clear and Lance had "let her +out." Chet bent sidewise watching the ice through his goggles. +Occasionally he screamed an order to his chum, who signaled with his +hand that he heard and understood. + +It was like the flight of a meteor! Laura and Jess never had realized +before what it meant to travel fast. Motoring on land was nothing like +this. As though shot out of some huge cannon the aero-iceboat skimmed +the lake. The wind was almost in their faces, but that made little +difference to this new invention of the chums. + +The other yachts had to tack against the wind; not so the aero-iceboat. +Swift and straight she flew and suddenly Chet roared to Lance to shut +down, and the propeller groaningly stopped. + +Chet flung up his goggles and drew out his watch. + +"Eight and a half minutes!" he cried, with glee. "And, as I told you, +it's a good nine miles." + +"Let me off! let me off!" gasped his sister, struggling down from the +narrow body of the boat. "Why! I never want to travel any faster, Chet. +Do you think it is _safe?_" + +"You bet it is, Miss Laura," said Lance. "Or we wouldn't have invited +you girls to go with us." + +"Just wait till some day--say Saturday. By daylight I'd drive this thing +faster than that. I tell you, we've got the speediest craft on the whole +lake." + +"It beats what Mrs. Case told us about ski running in Sweden," cried +Jess, who was delighted with the experience. "And if Mrs. Case starts a +class to travel on skis this winter, I want to be in it." + +"Well! it's all right to hear about. But the experience is sort of +shaking," sighed Laura. "I'm not sure that I have an over-abundance of +pluck, after all." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI--"JUST LIKE A STORY BOOK" + + +The Morses were completely settled in their little house before school +opened. Jess had had a busy vacation, but aside from her ride on Chet's +and Lance's _Blue Streak_ she had joined in little of the holiday fun of +her mates at Central High. + +There was one basketball game during the holiday recess. Central High +met the Keyport team on their own court and outplayed them most +decidedly; therefore the athletic temperature went up several degrees. + +Mrs. Case, the physical instructor of Central High, was an enthusiastic +out-of-doors woman, and as a heavy snow fell about New Year's she easily +interested the girls under her instruction in skiing. This exercise, she +pointed out, might take the place of the fortnightly walking expeditions +during the snowy weather, and there was so much broken country behind +Centerport that the sport could be indulged in with profit. + +The boys were getting so much sport out of ice hockey that--as the +league approved of that form of exercise--the physical instructor +introduced it on the girls' athletic field. The field could be flooded, +and had been; now it was a perfectly smooth piece of ice and upon it +those of the older girls who were already good skaters, had a chance to +learn the mysteries of hockey. + +"Huh! Father Tom says it's nothing but old-fashioned 'shinny' with a +fancy name tacked onto it," declared Bobby Hargrew. "But my! isn't it +fun?" + +Jess and her chum, as well as the irrepressible, "took" to hockey, and +there were enough of the other girls interested for two good teams to be +made up. + +Hester Grimes captained one team and Laura the other. There was still +some little feeling of rivalry between Hester and Mother Wit--perhaps +not much on the side of the latter; but the wholesale butcher's daughter +was inclined to be overbearing, and was never really satisfied unless +she had an important part in whatever went on. + +The struggle between the two teams for supremacy among the girls of +Central High in this particular sport really led, however, to good +results. Hester was backed by strong players; and being so muscular a +girl herself she carried her side to victory two out of every three +times. + +"We ought to beat her--she'll get too uppity to live with," declared +Bobby, discussing these games. + +"It will do us good to be beaten occasionally," laughed Laura. "You +begin to think, Bobby, that you must belong to the winning side all the +time." + +"Yes. Who doesn't?" sniffed Miss Hargrew. "It's all right--all this talk +about playing the game for the game's sake; but right down in the bottom +of our hearts, don't all of us play to win? If we don't, we never play +well, that's as sure as shooting." + +When the school re-opened, however, on the first Monday in January, the +subject uppermost in the minds of the girls of Central High was the +prize contest in play-writing for the M. O. R's. The girls crowded into +Assembly that morning, all on the _qui vive_ to hear what the principal +would have to say. + +But after the opening exercises, when Mr. Sharp came forward to speak, +he surprised everybody by saying: + +"We are not ready to report upon the matter of the plays. Mr. Monterey +will confer with us at noon, and before school is dismissed to-day we +will announce the winner. + +"It is not often that a committee having in charge the decision of the +winner in an amateur play-writing competition has the happiness to be +aided by a professional manager of a theater, and a man, too, who has +produced plays of importance himself. + +"Mr. Monterey's knowledge of what will _act_ well will make our final +decision, I believe, one that will strike all competitors as eminently +fair. We have tried to decide upon the prize winner in a way that will +satisfy the giver of the prize, too--Mrs. Kerrick. She demanded a play +that would act well and that will draw an audience because of its +dramatic value as a play--not merely because it is written by a girl of +Central High, or is performed by the girls and their friends for the +benefit of the M. O. R's. + +"Before the day closes, I can promise you, the decision will be made and +the name of the prize-winner, and of the title of the play, will be +announced. You are excused to your lessons for the morning." + +The buzz of excitement--especially from the girls' side--when Mr. Sharp +had ceased speaking, could scarcely be controlled. Not even Miss +Carrington's basilisk eye could quell it. + +Of course, poor Bobby fell a victim to Gee Gee's sour temper. She +thought the teacher had long since reached the class room, and she was +gabbling away to Nell Agnew and Jess "sixteen to the dozen," as she +would have said herself. When out of a door popped the bespectacled Miss +Carrington, grimmer and more stern than usual. + +"Indeed, Miss! are you supposed to rattle away like that about matters +entirely foreign to your lessons, on the way to class room?" demanded +the teacher. + +"Oh, indeed, Miss Carrington," exclaimed the contrite Bobby (she always +_was_ contrite when caught in a fault, for all her sauciness and +lightness arose from thoughtlessness) "I really forgot--I did not mean +to make a noise in the corridor." + +"Humph! did not mean--did not mean? What excuse is _that_, pray?" + +"Not a very good one, I am afraid," admitted Bobby. "But I truly did not +intend to break a rule. We were all so much interested in the play----" + +"Yes. Quite so. It is evident that I will get little out of you young +ladies until the matter of this silly play is settled. I presume you are +one of the contestants, Miss Clara?" + +"Not at all, Miss Carrington," said Bobby, demurely. "I _did_ start to +write one. It--it would have been a tragedy based upon several of the +main incidents in the Punic Wars. But I found that to give the matter +proper attention I should be obliged to neglect some of the studies, +and----" + +"That will do, Miss Hargrew," interposed the teacher, severely. "You +bring me on Friday afternoon a resume of those same Punic Wars--say a +thousand words, I shall learn thereby just how much you know about the +subject you selected for your play." + +Perhaps Bobby deserved what she got; but she "pulled a dreadfully long +face" about it, while the other girls were inclined to enjoy her +chagrin. + +As for Jess Morse, it seemed to her that the waiting for the +announcement of the prize-winner was too hard a cross to bear. So much +depended upon the decision of the committee--it did seem as though she +could not keep her mind upon the lessons. + +If she won--_if she won!_--there would be plain sailing in the domestic +waters of the Morses' life--and that had come to mean a great deal to +the girl. For even Mrs. Prentice's kindness to them had not cleared away +all the troubles for Jess Morse. + +True, the account at Mr. Closewick's had been paid. Jess, too, had seen +to it that the month's rent for their new home was met and a little +something paid each week on the running store accounts. + +But when Mrs. Morse drew her salary for the last week from the +_Courier_--and it amounted to nearly ten dollars that week--she had been +obliged to pay the money over to her dressmaker. She had found it +necessary to order a new costume, if she was to follow the fashionable +receptions, and the like, on the Hill. This matter of her mother being a +society reporter, Jess feared, would cost them more in the end than it +was worth to them. + +And now they began the New Year with positively nothing in the family +purse. And there was so much needed. There would be another reception at +the M. O. R. house this very week and Jess told herself that she could +not go because of her lack of a gown. Ah! these things were all +veritable tragedies to her. + +Lily Pendleton was very sure that she was going to take the prize. And +she was not afraid to talk about it. + +"Mother saw Mr. Monterey, and I am sure he was impressed by what she +told him," she announced. "Why, when the New Century Club met at our +house last week, I read two acts of my play, and all the ladies said it +was fine." + +"Aren't you modest!" grumbled Bobby. "I should think it would pain you." + +"Now, don't you get saucy, Bobby," warned Lily. "_You_ are not +interested in this contest, that's sure." + +"Huh!" cried Bobby. "I knew better than to try to write any such thing. +If I won the prize nobody would believe that I wrote it." + +"Oh, Bob," said Dora Lockwood. "You are _too_ modest." + +"Yes, sir--ree!" returned Bobby. "I know it. I am of the same modest and +withdrawing nature as the turtle." + +"The turtle?" + +"Yep," said Bobby, "You know what the little boy said when he first went +into the country? He came running to his father and says: 'Oh, Dad! +what's this thing I found? When I poked it, it put its hands and feet in +its pockets and swallowed its head!' Now, there can't be anything much +more retiring than the turtle--or _me_." + +The bell called them in for the final session then, and half an hour +before closing time the signal from Mr. Sharp's office announced that +the girls of all classes were to file to the Assembly hall and take +their seats. On this occasion the boys were not present. + +"If I don't get it I hope you do, Jess," whispered Laura Belding to her +chum as they went to their seats. + +But to herself Jess kept saying: "Oh, it would be too good to be +true--too good to be true! It would be just like a story-book." + +Mr. Sharp was smiling when he rose to speak. + +"I must admit that I am surprised--happily surprised," he began. +"Several of the plays submitted to the committee are really marked by a +vigor of style and originality of text and plot that have delighted me. +Particularly are 'The Strong Defense,' by Miss Belding, 'Appearances,' +by Miss Hilyard, 'The Arrow's Flight,' by Miss Agnew and 'Harrowdale,' +by Miss Buford to be praised upon these points. + +"Of course, there were some handed in to the committee that were utterly +unintelligible; the writers had not grasped the first principles of +play-writing. But, as a whole, I am proud of your efforts, and I know +Miss Gould is. I only fear that many of you young ladies who began plays +did not finish them. It narrowed the choice down to a very few. + +"And yet," pursued Mr. Sharp, "there was really little doubt in the +minds of any of the committee at the first reading of the manuscripts. +And when the plays considered, from a literary standpoint, really +acceptable, were put in the hands of Mr. Monterey for a final reading +and judgment, we were assured that our opinion was correct. + +"There is but one, among them all, that is a really _actable_ (pardon +the coining of the word), and that one, too, has in it the elements of a +really heart-moving story. The author has failed in many of the +professional rules of play-writing--even her grammar is somewhat shaky +in spots," added Mr. Sharp, smiling suddenly. "But the story is so sweet +and so moving, and is so well fitted to the acting capacity of you girls +and your brothers, that there is not the shadow of a doubt as to the +worth of the piece and the success of the writer." + +For a moment he was silent. The girls were eager, Lily Pendleton preened +herself in her seat. Her play had not been named when the principal gave +lukewarm praise to those mentioned. She was sure that he now referred to +her and to her play. + +On the other hand, Jess Morse had lost all hope. Her poor little play +was not even mentioned, as Chet would have said, "among the also rans!" + +"I am glad to announce--and to congratulate the young lady at the same +time," said Mr. Sharp, "that Miss Josephine Morse is the winner of the +two hundred dollars offered by Mrs. Kerrick, the title of her play being +'The Spring Road.'" + +It came like a thunderbolt! Jess could only gasp and stare up at him +until his smiling, rosy face, and the big spectacles, were blurred in a +mist that seemed to rise before her like a curtain. + +Bobby Hargrew started the cheering; but it was Laura who reached Jess +first and hugged her _tight_. + +"I'm just as disappointed as I can be!" she cried. "I actually thought +_my_ play was going to be best. But as it wasn't---- Why, Jess, I'm +almost as happy over your winning it as you can be yourself!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII--LILY PENDLETON IS DISSATISFIED + + +"I consider it a very unfair decision--unfair in every particular," +proclaimed Lily Pendleton, after school. "Why, he did not even _mention_ +'The Duchess of Dawnleigh.' I can't believe that Mr. Monterey even _saw_ +my play. I certainly shall make inquiries." + +Bobby Hargrew was caustic. "'The Duchess of Dawnleigh!'" she repeated. +"Say Lil! would you really know a live duchess if you saw one coming up +the street? Why didn't you write about something you knew about?" + +"I guess I know as much about duchesses as _you_ do, Bobby Hargrew!" + +"I hope so," granted Bobby, cheerily. "If I had to go up against a +duchess--a real, live one--I expect I'd be like the little milliner in +Boston, when some great, high-and-mighty personages came there from +England. One of them was a sure-enough duchess, and she sent for the +little milliner to do some work for her. + +"The little workwoman was just about scared into a conniption," chuckled +Bobby, "when she found she had to go to the grand hotel to meet the +grand lady and so asked a friend who knew a little more about the +nobility than _she_ did, what she should do when she entered the grand +lady's presence. + +"'Why, when you enter the room,' explained the friend, 'merely bow, and +in speaking to her say "Your Grace."' + +"The little milliner," continued Bobby, "thought she could do that all +right, and she went to the interview with the duchess without any dress +rehearsal. When she got inside the lady's door she bowed very low and +says, right off: + +"'For what we are about to receive, Oh, Lord, make us truly grateful!'" + +But While there may have been some disappointment in the hearts of some +of the girls of Central High who had striven for the prize, they not yet +having heard Jess Morse's play read, even the disappointed ones were not +niggardly with their congratulations. + +Jess walked in a maze that afternoon when she went home, Laura on one +side and Nell Agnew on the other, while Bobby pirouetted around them +like a very brilliant and revolving planet. + +"And is there a part in your play for me?" demanded the irrepressible. +"I just dote on actin. But no thinking part for mine, young lady! I must +at least be important enough in the play to say: 'Me Lord! the carriage +waits.'" + +"You could play the part of _Puck_ or _Ariel_, Bobby," declared Nellie +Agnew. + +"Hah! did you use those characters in 'The Arrow's Flight'?" gibed +Bobby. "No wonder it was turned down then. Stealing boldly from +Shakespeare!" + +"No, I didn't, Miss!" returned Nell, rather sharply. "I hope you noticed +that I was one of those who was 'honorably mentioned.'" + +"Sure. Mr. Sharp let you all down easy," chortled Bobby. + +"I believe the decision in the contest was eminently fair," declared +Laura. "Yet I thought I would surely win." + +"So did I," cried Nell. + +"And I didn't even dare _hope_ for it," said Jess, awe-stricken. "It's +just the most wonderful thing that ever happened." + +But Mrs. Morse took the success of "The Spring Road" quite as a matter +of course. + +"There, Josephine!" she exclaimed. "Now you can have the new clothes you +are really suffering for----" + +Jess decided that the argument might as well come right then. So she +halted her mother on the verge of her plans for renewing the girl's +wardrobe in a style more befitting the means of Lily Pendleton's mother, +than her own! + +"We have got to pay our debts," declared the girl, warmly. "Every penny +must be paid, Mother, dear. Let's be free of bills and duns for once, at +least. Let us start square with the world--and stay square if we can." + +Mrs. Morse did not wish her daughter to use the prize money for their +general needs. Jess had much trouble to convince her that it would make +her, Jess, far happier to do that than to own the finest set of furs, or +the most beautiful evening gown, that would be displayed upon the Hill +that winter. + +She did agree, finally, however, to have a new dress so that she could +attend the M. O. R. reception that week, at which her play was read +aloud by Miss Gould herself, and it was praised by the audience until +Jess's ears fairly burned. Then the committee properly appointed went +into executive session and plans for the production of "The Spring Road" +went with a rush. + +It was easy to choose a cast of characters. With a little advice from +Jess it was not hard to select the very girls and boys best fitted to +act in the piece. And such selection was made that very week, the +typewritten 'sides' distributed to the several players, and the boys and +girls went to work to memorize their parts. Lance Darby and Chet Belding +were both in the play, and although neither Laura, nor Jess herself, had +a part, they were both so busy (for they were on the M. O. R. play +committee) that for a few days athletics and sports were well-nigh +neglected. + +Through the good-natured manager of the Centerport Opera House, scenery +and much of the properties and some costumes for the inferior characters +were to be obtained. But the principal characters would furnish their +own costumes, and that is where Lily Pendleton began to lose her +dissatisfaction. Disappointed as she had been regarding the decision of +the committee, when she found that she was cast for an important part in +Jess's play she "came out of the sulks," as Bobby termed it. + +Mr. Monterey suggested to the committee, too, the name of a man to take +charge of the rehearsals--really, to be stage director of "The Spring +Road." He came to the M. O. R. house one afternoon to read the play--a +dapper, foreign-looking man of an indeterminate age, who continually +twirled a silken black mustache and listened devotedly to any girl who +talked to him. + +Lily began to cultivate Mr. Pizotti assiduously. Really, one might have +supposed _she_ had written the play, instead of Jess Morse, she was so +frequently in conference with Mr. Pizotti that first afternoon. + +Bobby, who had likewise been cast for a part in "The Spring Road," +watched Lily's actions with the stage manager with a good deal of +disgust. + +"What do you know about that foolish girl?" she demanded. "I'll wager +that greasy foreigner has got a wife and ten children--and neglects +them. He has brilliantine on that moustache, and he smells of hair-oil, +and I'll wager, too his hair will show gray at the roots, and I _know_ +it is thin on top." + +"How wise you are, Miss Bobby," said Nellie, who heard her. "For a child +you seem to have learned a lot." + +"I'm foxy," returned Bobby, grinning impishly. "I'm fully as smart as +that kid brother of Alice Long's. He came up to see us the other +day--Alice brought him. Aunt Mary is real old fashioned, you know, and +she sat in the kitchen darning and Tommy was playing around the floor. +She thought it was getting toward tea time and she said to him: + +"'Tommy, go into the front hall and see if the clock is running, that's +a good boy.' + +"Tommy came back after a minute, and says: + +"'No, ma'am, it ain't running; it's standing still. But it's wagging +it's tail!'" + +"And there's Lil putting on her hat in a hurry so as to meet the man +when Miss Gould is through with him, and walk down the block----Did you +ever?" exclaimed Jess. + +"Poor Pretty Sweet!" groaned Bobby. "_His_ nose is out of joint. He has +been Lil's bright and shining cavalier for months. Dear, dear me! The +Duchess of Dusenberry--was _that_ the name of Lil's play?--sure does +have her favorites, and like the _Queen of Hearts_ in "Alice in +Wonderland," has only one command for her discarded courtiers: 'Off with +their heads!'" and Bobby giggled as she peered from the window to watch +the dapper Mr. Pizotti and Lily Pendleton walk down the street side by +side. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII--THE SKI RUNNERS + + +The New Year had ushered in the first big fall of snow--and it kept +coming. Every few days, for the following fortnight, snow fell until +Centerport's street-cleaning department was swamped, and the drifts lay +deep upon the vacant lots and against fences and blind walls. + +Skating was done for, for the ice on the lake had become overloaded, and +had broken up into a shifting mass of blocks, grinding against each +other when the wind blew, and threatening the safety of any craft that +tried to put out in it. + +So traffic on Lake Luna ceased, and, of course, iceboating was likewise +impossible. Chet and Lance Darby, had they not been so extremely busy +learning their parts in the new play, could not have used their +aero-iceboat during this time. Sleds were out in force, +however--bobsleds, double-runners, toboggans, "framers," and every sort +of coasting paraphernalia. Even the Whiffle Street hill was made a +coasting place by the young folk of the neighborhood, much to the +despair of some grouty people who had forgotten their own youth, and who +either telephoned their complaints to the police, or sprinkled ashes on +the slide in the early morning hours. + +It was at this time, however, that Mrs. Case, the girls' physical +instructor of Central High, took her class in ski running out into the +open. + +At first the dozen or more girls had practiced on their athletic field, +which was now snow-covered, too. It was a particularly odd experience to +stand upon narrow boards of ash, some ten feet in length, and then try +to shuffle along on them without tipping sideways, or plunging +head-first into a drift. + +Each ski runner held a pole, with a spike in one end, and this was an +aid to balancing, as well as of additional use if one tumbled down. It +was no easy task, the girls found, to get up when they had been thrown +into a drift. + +"My!" commented Bobby Hargrew, "if you cross your feet going down hill +on these things, you're likely to dislocate every joint in your body." + +"Be sure you do not cross your feet, then," advised Mrs. Case, grimly. +"I have shown you all the correct position to stand upon these skis. The +professional ski runner does not even use a pole. He will take the steep +sides of mountains at a two-mile a minute rate. I have seen them do so +in Switzerland and in Sweden and Norway. And they will jump into the air +from the verge of high banks, and land on the drift at the bottom with +perfect balance." + +"This is going to be no cinch to learn," pronounced Bobby. "I know it's +going to be some time before I am good enough at it to jump off the top +of Boulder Head on Cavern Island--now you see!" + +"You would better take a much less difficult jump first," advised Mrs. +Case, smiling. "It will be enough fun for us to learn to travel on the +skis without any frills. In Europe--especially on the road between St. +Moritz and Celerina--I have often seen ski riders with horses. A horse +trots ahead, drawing several riders on skis, who cling together by the +aid of a rope fastened to the horse's collar. Sometimes each rider has a +horse, and they race horses just as though they were riding in sleighs. + +"It is great sport, but like every other healthful form of athletics, it +is often made dangerous and objectionable by those who are reckless, or +rough. We will learn to balance ourselves, and to coast down a gentle +descent." + +So, the next Saturday, the teacher and more than a dozen girls of +Central High piled into a big, straw-filled sleigh, and were whisked out +into the hills south of the city. The inn at Robinson's Woods--a popular +picnicking ground in summer--was made their headquarters, and there they +left the sleigh and took to the difficult skis. + +The climb to the top of the bluff overlooking the speedway, on which +everybody--almost--who owned a sleigh was driving that afternoon, was +not an easy one for the girls. Mrs. Case, holding her body erect, yet +easily, shuffled up the incline with such little apparent effort that +some of her pupils were in despair. + +"We'll never be able to run as you do, Mrs. Case!" cried Dora Lockwood. +"Never! Why--ouch! There, I came near tumbling down that time." + +"Keep your balance. Use the pole if you have to," advised the +instructor. "It is not a running motion--it is more like a slide." + +"Say!" growled Bobby, who was having trouble, too. "It beats the +'debutante slink,' that came in with narrow skirts. I feel as if I was +tumbling down every second." + +But they gained confidence in time. They reached the top of the bluff +and then the long, easy slope, right beside the speedway, spread, +spotless, before them. Mrs. Case showed them how to start, and after a +fashion several of the bigger girls reached the bottom of the hill, and +then panted up again, pronouncing it the best ever! + +Bobby would not be outdone, as she said, "by anything in skirts," and so +she ventured. Halfway down the hill one of her skis must have struck +something--perhaps the stub of a bush sticking out of the snow. Whew! +Bobby turned almost a complete somersault! + +She was buried so deep in a drift--and head first, at that--that it took +both Laura and Mrs. Case to pull her out. + +"Oh-me-oh-my!" cried Bobby, who looked like an animated snow-girl for +the moment. "And just as I was getting on so well, too! Wasn't that +mean?" + +"Perhaps you'd better not try any more to-day, Clara" said the +instructor. + +"And let those other girls get ahead of me? Well! I guess not!" declared +Miss Hargrew, and she ploughed back to the top of the hill, fastened her +feet upon the skis again, and started once more. + +Laura and Jess Morse were on the hilltop, looking out upon the white +track over which the sleighs were flying. + +"Look there!" gasped Jess, seizing her chum's arm. "Isn't that the +Pendletons' sleigh?" + +"Of course it is. With the big plumes and the pair of dappled grays? And +that stiff and starched coachman driving? No mistake," admitted Laura. + +"Who's in the sleigh with Lil?" demanded Jess. + +"As I live!" cried her chum, in a somewhat horrified tone. "It--it is +that Pizotti--that man!" + +"Can you beat her?" said Jess, shaking her head. + +"How foolish!" added Laura. "He is not a good man. He has known her so +short a time--and to go sleigh-riding with her. Lil will be talked +about, sure enough." + +"Well, I don't know as _we_ need to worry about her," said Jess, +shrugging her shoulders. + +But Laura Belding could not put her schoolmate's indiscreet actions out +of her mind so easily. She wondered if Mrs. Pendleton knew of Lily's +familiarity with the foreign-looking Pizotti. The man might know his +business as a stage director; but he certainly was neither of the age, +nor the condition in life, to be cultivated as a friend by any young +girl. + +Lily Pendleton was so foolishly romantic, and so crazy about theatrical +matters, that to be noticed by any person connected with the stage, or +theatrical affairs, quite turned her head. And then, she still talked a +great deal about her own play, "The Duchess of Dawnleigh." She was sure +it had not been given a proper reading--especially by Mr. Monterey. +Perhaps, for reasons best known to himself, this stranger, Mr. Pizotti, +had promised the foolish girl that he would help her get "The Duchess of +Dawnleigh" produced. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX--THE FIRST DRESS REHEARSAL + + +Laura Belding was a particularly frank, outspoken girl, and when she met +Lily Pendleton that Saturday night at the rehearsal of Jess's play, she +came out "flat-footed," as her chum would have said, with the question: + +"Who was that in the sleigh with you to-day, Lil?" + +Lily flushed instantly, bridled, and smiled. "Who do you s'pose?" she +returned. + +"I don't believe your mother knew you had that theatrical man to drive +with you," said Laura, bluntly. + +"Why, how you talk! I merely met Signor Pizotti, and took him up----" + +"You don't know who he is," spoke Laura. + +"Oh, indeed, Miss! And do _you?_" demanded Lily, rather sharply. + +"No, And I don't want to know him." + +"He is a very scholarly man--and he knows all about staging this play. +If it wasn't for him, I guess, 'The Spring Road' would suffer from +frost," said Lily, with an unkind laugh. + +"That may be," said Laura, flushing a little herself, for any slur cast +upon her chum's play hurt her, too. "But his knowledge of how to produce +or stage a play does not establish his private character." + +"Pooh! you are interfering in something that you know nothing about," +declared Miss Pendleton, loftily. "And it does not concern you at all." + +"I do not believe your mother would approve," ventured Laura. + +"Never you mind about my mother," snapped Lily, and turned her back on +Mother Wit. + +The latter took herself to task later, thinking she had been too +presumptuous. + +"But really," she said to Jess, on their way home that evening, "I did +not mean to be. Only, the man looks so unreliable. I'm afraid of him." + +"I'm not afraid of him," said Jess, decidedly. "I only dislike him. But +there is no accounting for tastes. My mother knew of a foolish girl who +wrote to an opera tenor--one of those handsome, spoiled foreigners, and +she sent him her photograph and told him how much she liked his +singing--and all that. Just a silly letter, you know. But she didn't +sign her name and she thought he would never learn who she was. + +"But he went to the photographer," continued Jess, "and bribed him to +tell who the girl was, and by that time she had written to the man +several times, and he had written to her. So then he threatened her that +if she did not give him five hundred dollars he would send her letters +to her father. And she was in dreadful trouble, for she was afraid of +what her father would do." + +"Oh, Lil won't do anything like _that!_" gasped Laura. "I don't believe +she even thinks she _cares_ about that Pizotti. It is only his foreign +way that makes it appear so. But I believe he is flattering her about +her play, and perhaps will get money from her or her mother." + +"Pizotti! Ha!" grunted Jess, before they separated. "I'm like Bobby +Hargrew: I don't believe that's even his name. It sounds too fancy to be +a _real_ name." + +But Mr. Pizotti was an able man in his business. He came from time to +time to the M. O. R. house and his advice regarding the play was always +practical. He was something of a musician, too, and played the +accompaniments for the girls who sang in "The Spring Road." He suggested +improvements in the costumes, too; and Lily Pendleton was entirely +guided by his taste in her choice of the gowns she was to wear in the +production. + +Mrs. Pendleton was a very busy woman in a social way and allowed her +daughter to do about as she pleased. Lily aped the manners of girls who +had long since graduated from school and were flashy in their dress and +manners. + +To tell the truth, the after-hour athletics, governed by Mrs. Case, had +been the one saving thing in Lily Pendleton's life for some months. She +would have become so enamored of fashion and frivolity, had it not been +for the call of athletics, that she would have fallen sadly behind in +her school work. + +But she liked certain activities enjoyed by those who were attentive to +Mrs. Case's classes; and to gain these privileges one had to stand well +in her general studies. Lily was smart enough, was a quick student, and +so kept up her school work. + +This business of acting appealed to her immensely. She was "just crazy +about it," as she admitted to her particular friend, Hester Grimes. + +"I wish my folks were poor, so that I would have to work when I leave +school," she declared. "Then I'd go on the stage myself." + +"You wouldn't!" exclaimed Hester. + +"I would in a minute. And this Signor Pizotti could place me very +advantageously----" + +"Pooh! you don't believe anything that fellow says, do you?" demanded +her chum, who was eminently practical and had none of the silly ideas in +her head that troubled Lily. + +"You don't know him!" exclaimed Lily. + +"Don't want to," replied Hester, gruffly. + +Preparations for the first dress rehearsal of "The Spring Road" went on +apace. But, of course, Bobby Hargrew _would_ have bad luck! She was +thrown from Short and Long's bobsled one night and had to be helped +home. The hurt to her foot was a small matter; but the doctor said she +would have to wear her arm in a sling for a time. + +"And how can I play _Arista_ with my arm strapped to my side?" wailed +Bobby, when Jess and Laura came in to commiserate with her over the +accident. "Oh, dear me! I am the most unlucky person in the world. If it +was raining soup I'd have a hole in _my_ dipper!" + +Mr. Monterey, the local manager, came himself to the dress rehearsal. He +only sat out front, and watched and listened; and he went away without +expressing an opinion to anybody. Yet Jess saw him there and was excited +by the possibility of Mr. Monterey's recognizing the value of the play +for professional purposes. + +At the Morse domicile things were going better, and the girl's mind was +vastly relieved from present troubles. Yet she was wise enough to see +that in the offing the same danger of debt threatened them if they were +not very, very careful. + +It was true that scarcely half the prize money had been spent; yet Mrs. +Morse's regular work on the _Courier_ barely fed them; and her success +with the popular magazines was but fitful. Sometimes two months passed +without her mother receiving even a ten-dollar check from her fugitive +work. + +Oh, if she could only find somebody who would take the play--after the +M. O. R.'s had made use of it--and whip it into shape for professional +use, and give her a part of the proceeds! + +That was the thought continually knocking at the door of Jess Morse's +mind. It was "too good to be true," yet she kept thinking about it, and +hoping for the impossible, and dreaming of it. + +However, the dress rehearsal of "The Spring Road" was pronounced by the +teachers and Mr. Pizotti as eminently satisfactory. Bobby was +letter-perfect in her part, if she _did_ have "a damaged wing," as she +said. And most of the other important roles were well learned. + +The very prettiest girl of Central High had been chosen for the chief +female character, and in this case prettiness went with brains. She had +learned her part, and was natural and graceful, and was altogether a +delight. + +As for Launcelot Darby, he was the most romantic looking _Truant Lover_ +that could have been found. And he played with feeling, too, although +his mates were making a whole lot of fun of him on the side. But Laura +had urged him to do his best, and Lance would have done anything in his +power to please Mother Wit. + +Chet Belding, as a peasant, "made up" well, and was letter perfect, too, +in his part, if a little awkward. But that did not so much matter, +considering the character he had to portray. And, of course, he would do +nothing to belittle Jess's play. His whole heart was in his work, too. + +So, after that first dress rehearsal, the committee and Jess were +hopeful of success. The time for the production of the play was set, the +tickets printed, and out of school hours everything was in a bustle of +preparation for the great occasion. + + + + +CHAPTER XX--"MR. PIZOTTI" + + +"Listen to this!" + +Bobby Hargrew, her arm still in a sling, seized Jess Morse by the wrist +and "tiptoed" along the corridor of the second wing of Central High, +where the small offices were located, and with tragic expression pointed +to a certain door that stood ajar. + +Jess, amazed, did not speak, but listened. Out of the room came a +muffled voice, but the words spoken were these: + +"Unhand me! Nay, keep your distance, Count Mornay! I am no peasant wench +to be charmed either by your gay coat or your gay manner. Ah! your +villainies are known to me, nor can you hide the cloven hoof beneath the +edge of Virtue's robe." + +"Ha! ha!" chuckled Bobby, almost strangling with laughter. "He ought to +have worn boots and so hidden his 'cloven hoof.' Come away, Jess, or I +shall burst! Did you ever hear the like?" + +"Why--why, what is it?" demanded Jess, mystified. + +"Oh, don't! Wait till I laugh!" chuckled Bobby, when they were around +the corner of the corridor again. "Isn't that rich?" + +"Who was it talking?" asked Jess. + +"Talking! Didn't you recognize that oration?" + +"I did not. Mother doesn't allow me to read any penny-dreadful story +papers, magazines or books." + +"Oh, ho! Wait!" gasped Bobby. "That's Lil." + +"Lily Pendleton?" + +"You evidently haven't heard any of the 'Duchess of Dusenberry' before. +_That's it!_" + +"Not part of her play?" + +"That is one of the melodramatic bits," said Bobby, weakly, leaning +against the wall for support. "Yes, really, Jess. That is in her play. +I've heard her recite it before." + +"My goodness me!" gasped Jess. + +"It's not _all_ so bad, I guess. But when she gets flowery and romantic +she just tears off such paragraphs as that. 'Nor can you hide the cloven +hoof beneath the edge of Virtue's robe.' Isn't that a peach?" + +"Bobby!" exclaimed Jess, breathless herself by now, "you use the worst +slang of any girl in Central High." + +"That's all right. But Lil's using worse language than I ever dreamed +of," laughed Bobby. "I've heard her spouting that sort of stuff time and +time again. When she shuts herself up, presumably to study her part in +your play, half the time she is reciting her own lines. She likes the +sound of 'em. And she had that Pizotti fellow backed in a corner of the +front hall at the M. O. R. house the other afternoon, reciting that same +sort of stuff to him. + +"Repeating her play?" + +"Yep. The silly! And he pretending that it was great, and applauding +her. I'll wager that he sees a way to make money out of Lil Pendleton, +or he wouldn't stand for it." + +Jess carried this idea in her mind, although she was not as much +troubled by her schoolmate's foolishness as was Mother Wit. There was a +loyalty among the girls of Central High, however, that few ignored. +Despite the fact that Jess had never especially liked Lily Pendleton, +she would have done anything in her power to help her. + +So, that very evening, when she was marketing, she chanced to see +something that brought Lil's affairs into her mind again. She was going +into Mr. Vandergriff's store when she saw a man, bundled in a big +ulster, talking with the proprietor. + +Griff came forward to wait on Jess, and the girl might not have noticed +the man by the desk a second time had she not overheard Mr. Vandergriff +say: + +"You take advantage of my good nature, Abel. Because I knew you in the +old country, you come here and plead poverty. I can't see your family +suffer, for your wife is a nice woman, if you _are_ a rascal!" + +"Hard words! Hard words, Vandergriff," muttered the other. + +Jess saw that he was a little man, and the high ulster collar muffled +the lower part of his face. But as he turned toward the door she caught +a glimpse of a glossy black mustache, and two beady black eyes. + +It was Mr. Pizotti! + +The girl was so astonished, for the man was shabbily dressed, and +shuffled out with several bundles under his arm, that she could scarcely +remember what else she wanted to buy when Griff asked her. + +"Oh, I say, Griff!" she demanded, breathlessly, and in a whisper. "Who +was that man who just went out?" + +"Why--oh, that was only Abel Plornish." + +"Abel Plornish!" + +"Yep. Poor, useless creature," said the boy, with disgust. "Or, so +father says. He knew Abel in England. You know, father came from London +before he was married," and Griff smiled. + +"But this man--are you sure his name is Plornish?" + +"Quite, Jess. Why, he plays the violin, or the piano, in some cheap +moving picture place, I believe." + +"Then he is a musician?" demanded Jess, breathlessly. + +"And a bad one, I reckon. But he has done other things. He's been on the +stage. And he's even worked in the Centerport Opera House, I believe." + +"And that is really his name?" asked Jess. + +"It's an awful one, isn't it? Plornish! Nothing very romantic or fancy +about that," laughed Griff. "Now, what else, Jess?" + +Jess was so disturbed by this discovery that she could only think to ask +Griff one more question. That related to where Plornish lived. + +"Somewhere on Governor Street. I think it's Number 9. Tenement house. +Oh, they're poor, and I believe when he gets any money he spends it on +himself. I saw him once on Market Street dressed like a dandy. But when +his wife and children come in here they look pretty shabby." + +It wasn't very late, and, anyway, Jess couldn't have slept that night +without talking the matter over with Mother Wit. She left her basket in +the kitchen, saw that her mother was busy at her desk, and ran up +Whiffle Street hill to the Belding house. + +"Is dat suah yo', Miss Jess?" asked Mammy Jinny, peering out of the side +door when Jess rang the bell. "Come right erlong in, honey. Yo's jes' as +welcome as de flowers in de Maytime. B-r-r! ain't it cold?" + +"It is cold, Mammy," said Jess to the Beldings' old serving woman. +"Where's Laura?" + +"She's done gone up to her room ter listen ter Mars' Chet an' dat Lance +Darby boy orate dem pieces dey is goin' to recite in school nex' week." + +"They are going to act in my play, Mammy!" cried Jess. + +"Mebbe so. Mebbe so. But it's all recitationin' ter me. Dat leetle Bobby +Hargrew was in here and she say it's jes' like w'en you-all useter +recite at de Sunday night concerts in de Sunday school room. An' dem +pieces yo' orated den was a hull lot nicer dan w'at Mars' Chet is +sayin'. 'Member how you recited dat 'Leetle drops o' water, leetle +grains o' sand' piece, Miss Jess? Dat was suah a nice piece o' po'try." + +"And you don't care for the parts you have heard of my play, Mammy?" +asked Jess, much amused. + +"Suah 'nuff, now! Did you make up disher play dey is goin' ter act?" +demanded Mammy Jinny. + +"I certainly did." + +"Wal, I hates ter hu't yo' feelin's, Miss Jess," said Mammy, gravely, +"but dat 'Leetle drops o' water' po'try was a hull lot better--ter _my_ +min'! Ya'as'm! yo kin' go right up. Yo'll hear dem-all +a-spoutin'--spoutin' jes' like whales!" + +And so she did. Chet was reading his lines with much unction while +striding up and down Laura's pretty little room. Lance and Mother Wit +were his audience. + +"For goodness sake, Chet!" cried Jess, breaking in. "Who told you your +part was tragic, and that 'The Spring Road' was tragedy?" + +"Huh?" questioned Chet, stopping short and blinking at her. + +"Do read the lines naturally. Don't be 'orating,' as Mammy Jinny calls +it. I guess she's right. 'Little drops of water' is better than all that +bombastic stuff. Do, do, my dear, speak it naturally." + +"Hear her!" growled Chet "And she wrote it!" + +"I never really meant it to sound like that, Chet," declared Jess, +shaking her head. "I really didn't. Why! it sounds almost as bad as 'The +Duchess of Dawnleigh.'" + +"Wha--what's that?" demanded Lance. + +"Not Lil's play?" cried Laura. "Have you heard it?" + +Jess told what she had heard at the door of the recitation room that +afternoon, and they laughed over it. + +"Yet I can see very well," continued Jess, "that you actors can make my +words sound just as absurd if you want to. Do, _do_ be natural." + +"That's what I tell them," sighed Laura. "I am glad you heard Chet +spouting here. One would think he was playing 'Hamlet,' or 'Richard +III.'" + +Chet was a little miffed. But he soon "came out of it," as Lance said, +and he was so fond of Jess anyway that he would have tried his best to +please her. + +He grew more moderate in his "orating" and the girls, as critics, were +better pleased. Lance took a leaf out of his chum's book, too, and when +he declaimed his lines he succeeded in pleasing Jess and Laura the first +time. Besides, Lance was naturally a better actor than Chet. + +Mr. Pizotti had taught them how to enter properly, and how to take their +cues; but to Jess's mind he was not the man to train amateurs to speak +their parts with naturalness. If Miss Gould had not given so much time +to the rehearsals of "The Spring Road" the play would have not been half +the success it promised to be. And, of course, the Central High teacher +gave her attention mainly to the girls in the cast of characters. + +When Lance and Chet lounged off to the latter's den Jess instantly +poured into Laura's ears her discovery of the identity of "Mr. Pizotti." + +"Well, even at that he may be a man trying to earn his living. Many +stage people change their names for business reasons. 'Plornish' is not +an attractive name, you must admit," said Laura, smiling. "'Pizotti' +fits his foreign look." + +"But what is he trying to get out of Lil Pendleton?" demanded Jess, +bluntly. + +"That's what troubles me," admitted Mother Wit. "I believe he is trying +to get money out of Lily, or from her folks. And it has to do with Lil's +play. You can see that she believes her play was slighted and that it is +a great deal better than yours, Jess." + +"I guess she has a good opinion of it," returned Jess, laughing. + +"Well, suppose this fellow tells her she is right, and that he can get +it produced, if she will put up the money?" suggested Mother Wit. "I--I +wish Lil would place confidence in me." + +"Tell her mother." + +"No use," sighed Laura. "I doubt if she would even listen to me. She +wouldn't want to be bothered. You know very well the kind of woman Mrs. +Pendleton is." + +"Well, I don't suppose it is any of our business, anyway," spoke Jess. + +"It is. Lil is one of us--one of the girls of Central High. We have a +deep interest in anything that concerns her. The only trouble is," +sighed Laura, "I don't know just what is best to do." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI--MOTHER WIT PUTS TWO AND TWO TOGETHER + + +The snow still mantled the ground, and the coasting and ski running +remained very popular sports with the girls and boys of Central High. +But a day's hard rain, with a sharp frost after it, had given the +iceboating another lease of life, too. Lake Luna was a-glare from the +mainland to Cavern Island, and the freight boats had given over running +until the spring break-up. + +Not that there were no open places in the ice--for there were, and +dangerous holes, too. The current through the length of the lake was +bound to make the ice weak in places. But near the Centerport shore was +a long stretch of open ice that the authorities pronounced safe. + +Chet and Lance got the _Blue Streak_ out again and there wasn't a girl +in the junior class who was not envious of Laura and Jess. Skating was +tame beside traveling at a mile a minute in an aero-iceboat; and the +other ice yachts were not in the same class with the invention of Chet +and Lance. + +The date set for the production of Jess's play in the big hall of the +schoolhouse approached, however; and preparation for the event was +neglected by none of the M. O. R.'s or the other girls and boys in the +cast. + +Friday evening would see the first production; but the intention was to +give a matinee for the pupils of the three Centerport High Schools at a +nominal price on Saturday morning, and then a final performance Saturday +evening. From these three performances the committee hoped to gain at +least a thousand dollars, and possibly half as much more. This would be +a splendid addition to the somewhat slim building fund of the +M. O. R.'s. + +Lily Pendleton went about these days with a very self-satisfied +expression of countenance and such a mysterious manner that Bobby said +to her: + +"Huh! you look like an old hen that's hidden her nest and thinks +nobody's going to find it, What are you up to now?" + +"Don't you wish you knew?" returned Lily. + +Even Hester Grimes admitted that she was not in Lil's confidence. But +the hints Lily dropped troubled Mother Wit. + +Laura Belding had not forgotten the discovery her chum had made +regarding the identity of the man who called himself "Pizotti." The +stage director would not again attend the performance of "The Spring +Road" until the day of the first production. Yet Laura believed that +Lily had an understanding of some sort with him. + +Governor Street, where Griff told Jess the Plornish family lived, was +one of the very poorest in that part of the city, being located at the +foot of the Hill and below Market Street itself. + +Laura and Jess went shopping one afternoon on Market Street; and despite +the fact that it was nipping cold weather, and that the street was a +mass of snow-ice, save on the car tracks, they walked home. The +sidewalks were slippery, and it took some caution to keep one's feet; +but the chums were so sure of their balance that they stepped along +quite briskly. + +From Mr. Vandergriff's store they saw a poorly dressed little +girl--perhaps eight years old, or so--dragging a soap box on runners. +The box had several packages of groceries in it, besides a bottle of +milk. + +Just as the child started across Market Street there came a heavy sleigh +with plumes, great robes, a pair of dapple gray horses, and a great +jingling of bells. The driver did not see the little girl with her box +until it was almost too late to pull out. + +It all happened in a flash! The peril was upon the child before she or +anybody else realized it; and it had passed her, only smashing her sled +and spilling her goods, in another moment. + +The sleigh, with the horses prancing, swept on and did not even stop for +its occupants to note the damage it had done. The child was left crying +in the gutter, with the groceries scattered about and the milk making a +white river upon the dirty ice. + +Laura sprang to aid the little one in picking up her goods; but Jess +exclaimed: + +"Did you see that, Laura?" + +"I should think I did! And they never stopped." + +"But did you see who was in the sleigh?" + +"No." + +"It was Lil--and that man was riding with her again." + +"Pizotti?" gasped Laura. + +"Yes. Here! give me that bottle. I'll run across and get another bottle +of milk from Mr. Vandergriff. We'll have to help the little one carry +her stuff home. The little sled is smashed to smithereens." + +"All right, Jess. Now, don't cry, child!" exclaimed Mother Wit, kindly, +hovering over the little girl. "You won't be blamed for this, I know." + +But the child was staring after the sleigh instead of picking up her +goods, and with such a wondering look on her face that Laura asked: + +"What is the matter with you? What did you see?" + +The child still remained dumb, and Laura took her by the shoulder and +shook her a little. + +"What is your name?" she demanded. + +"Maggie," said the little one, gulping down a sob. + +"Maggie what?" + +"No, ma'am; Maggie Plornish," stammered the other. + +"My goodness me!" gasped Laura. "Did you see the man in that sleigh?" + +"No, ma'am! No ma'am!" cried the little girl, in great haste, and +shaking her head violently. "There warn't no man in the sleigh." + +"Yes there was, child." + +"I didn't see no man," declared Maggie, energetically. "It was the lady +I seen." + +"Do you know her?" asked Laura, slowly, convinced that the child was +deceiving her--or, at least, attempting to do so. + +"No, ma'am. I never seed her before." + +It was evidently useless to try to get anything more out of the child on +that tack. But Laura was sure that there could not be two Plornish +families in Centerport, and if Jess had seen the stage director in Lily +Pendleton's sleigh, it was plain that Maggie had seen him, too. And she +had recognized him. + +"Where do you live, little girl?" asked Laura, quietly, as she saw Jess +returning with a fresh bottle of milk. + +"Over 'ere on Governor Street. Number ninety-three, Miss." + +"Lead the way, then," said Laura, promptly. "We'll help you carry your +things home and explain to mamma how you came to get them scattered. You +surely have a mamma, haven't you?" + +"Yes, ma'am. And there's a new baby. That's who the milk's for." + +"Say! how many of you Plornish children are there?" asked Jess, to whom +Laura had immediately whispered the intelligence that this child was +evidently one of Mr. Pizotti's progeny. + +"Seven, ma'am. But some's older'n me and they're workin'." + +"Don't you go to school?" asked Laura. + +"I can't--not right now. We ain't got good shoes to go 'round--nor +petticoats. And then, the baby didn't come along until a month ago and +he has to be 'tended some while mamma washes and cleans up around." + +Laura looked at Jess meaningly and asked: + +"Where's your papa?" + +"Oh! he's home," said the child, immediately losing her smart manner of +speaking. + +"Doesn't he work?" + +"Yes, ma'am. Sometimes." + +"What's his trade?" asked Jess. + +"Huh?" + +Maggie Plornish had suddenly become very dull indeed! + +"Doesn't your father work regularly?" explained Laura, kindly. "Hasn't +he any particular work?" + +Maggie considered this thoughtfully. Then she shook her head and with +gravity replied: "I guess he's an outa." + +"A what?" gasped Jess. + +"An outa, Miss." + +"What under the sun's an 'outa'?" demanded Jess, looking at Laura. + +But Mother Wit understood and smiled. "You mean he's 'most always out of +work?" she asked. + +Maggie Plornish nodded vigorously. + +"Yes, ma'am! He's us'lly outa work. Most reg'larly. Yes, ma'am!" + +"Well for mercy's sake!" gasped Jess, gazing at her chum in wonder. "Can +you beat _that?_ If this is the same family----" + +Laura stayed her with a look. "We'll see," said Mother Wit. "Lead on, +Maggie. We'll see your mother, anyway." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII--MRS. PLORNISH + + +Governor Street was just as dirty and squalid as any other +tenement-house street in the poorer section of a middle-class city. The +street-cleaning department had given up all hope before they reached +Governor Street, and the middle of the way was a series of ridges and +mountains of heaped-up, dirty, frozen snow. + +The snow had been cleaned from the sidewalks, and the gutters freed so +that the melting ice could run off by way of the sewers when the sun was +kind; but the way to Number 93 was not a pleasant one to travel. + +However, Laura and Jess, with little Maggie, reached the door in +question in a few minutes, A puff of steamy air--the essence of +countless washings--met the girls as the lower door was pushed open. +That is the only way the long and barren halls were heated--by the steam +from the wash-boilers. For Number 93 Governor Street was one of those +tenement houses which seem always to be in a state of being washed, and +laundered, and cleaned up; yet which never show many traces of +cleanliness, after all. + +"We live on the top floor," said Maggie, volunteering her first remark +since starting homeward. + +"That doesn't scare us," said Laura, cheerfully. "Lead on, MacDuff!" + +"No. My name's Plornish," said this very literal--and seemingly +dull--little girl. + +"Very well, Maggie MacDuff Plornish!" laughed Mother Wit. "We follow +you." + +The little girl toiled up the stairs like an old woman. Laura and Jess +caught glimpses of other tenements as they followed the child and saw +that there was real poverty here. Jess began to compare her situation +with that of these humble folk, and saw that she had much to be grateful +for. + +She was troubled over the lack of a new party dress, perhaps, or because +there were times when she and her mother were pinched for money. But the +bare floors and uncurtained windows of these "flats," with the poor +furniture and raggedly clothed children, spelled a degree of poverty +deeper than Jess Morse had imagined before. + +A sallow woman met them at the door of one of the top-floor flats. She +was as faded as her calico dress. Her arms were lean and her hands +wrinkled, and all the flesh about her finger nails was swollen and of a +livid hue, from being so much in hot water. + +Indeed, two steaming tubs stood in the kitchen into which the girls of +Central High were ushered. A big wash was evidently under way, and Mrs. +Plornish wiped her arms and hands from the suds, as she invited the +girls in, staring in amazement at one and another meanwhile. + +"Your little Maggie met with an accident, Mrs. Plornish," said Laura, +pleasantly, putting the packages she had carried upon the table. "And so +we helped her home with her groceries." + +"And Mr. Vandergriff says never mind the bottle of milk that was +spilled," explained Jess, setting the second bottle on the table. + +"You come from Mr. Vandergriff?" asked the woman, her faded cheek +coloring a trifle. + +Laura explained more fully. Mrs. Plornish seemed to have had her +motherly instincts pretty well quenched by time and poverty. + +"Yes'm. I expect Maggie'll git runned over and killed some day on that +there Market Street," she complained. "But I ain't got nobody else to +send. Bob and Betty, and Charlemagne, air either at school or to +work----" + +"Where is your husband?" asked Laura, briskly. "Is he working?" + +"Off an' on," said the woman, but looking at the visitors a little +doubtfully. + +"Engaged just at present?" pursued Laura. + +"Look here, Miss," said Mrs. Plornish, "air you charity visitors? Though +you _be_ young." + +"We have nothing to do with charities," Laura said. "We just came to +help Maggie. I didn't know but I might know of something for your +husband to do if he is out of work." + +"He ain't. He's got a job right now. And I guess it will turn out to be +a good one," spoke Mrs. Plornish, and she smiled with sudden +satisfaction. + +"It seems to please you, Mrs. Plornish," said Jess, quickly. "I hope you +will not be disappointed. Where is he working?" + +"Oh, this job o' work is goin' to take him out o' town for a while," +returned the woman, doubtfully. + +"Indeed? To Lumberport?" asked the insistent Jess. + +"No." + +"To Keyport, then?" + +"I can't tell you. It--it's a secret--that is, it's sort of a private +affair. Abel is a very smart man in his way--and this--er--this job will +bring him considerable money, I expect. I hope we'll all be better off +soon." + +She seemed excited by the prospect of her husband's secret employment, +yet she was doubtful, too. Laura and Jess looked at each other and they +both came to the same conclusion. If Abel Plornish, alias "Mr. Pizotti," +was scheming to get some money from the Pendletons, Mrs. Plornish knew +at least a little something about it. + +But Laura did not know how to get this information from the woman; nor +did the girl believe that it was really right for her to do so. But +Mother Wit thought it would do no harm to help the family if she could +do so without offending. She drew forth her purse and looked gently at +Mrs. Plornish. + +"You won't mind if I give you something to spend on Maggie?" asked +Mother Wit, in her most winning way. "Do let me help her, Mrs. Plornish! +I really mean no offense." + +"Why, you look an honest enough young lady," said the woman. + +"Maggie says she needs shoes so that she can go to school. Don't you +think you can spare her for at least a part of the time?" + +"Mebbe I'd better, Miss. The truant officer's been around once," said +Mrs. Plornish. "But the baby's so small----" + +"If your husband is as successful as you think he'll be," interposed +Jess, sharply, "you'll be able to afford to let her go, eh? Then you +will not have to work so hard yourself." + +"That's right, Miss!" cried Mrs. Plornish, briskly. + +Laura put the money for Maggie's shoes into her hand. "I hope we may +come and see Maggie again?" she said, pinching the thin cheek of the +little girl, who had been staring at them all this time, without +winking, and without a word. + +"Sure you can, Miss! And thank you. Thank the young lady, Maggie," +ordered Mrs. Plornish. + +Maggie gave a funny, bobbing little courtesy as the older girls went +out. Laura and Jess said nothing to each other until they reached the +street. Then the latter declared: + +"She knows something about it." + +"About what?" asked Laura. + +"Whatever it is that's going on. Whatever it is 'Pizotti' is doing." + +"And we know he is staging your play for the M. O. R.'s," said Laura, +quietly. "That's all we _do_ know at present." + +"But there's something else." + +"That we don't know. I wish we did." + +"And he's going out of town!" + +"Perhaps that is not so," returned Laura, thoughtfully. "Of course his +wife knows that he works under an assumed name. That is no crime, of +course----" + +"But there's something odd about it all," cried Jess. + +"All right. How are we going to find out? Lil won't tell us----" + +"And it is her business--or her mother's," said Jess. "And that's a +fact." + +"She's one of us--she's a Central High girl," repeated Laura. "If we can +save her from the result of her own awful folly, we should do so." + +"Huh! And we don't know what she's to be saved from as yet!" cried Jess, +which ended the discussion for the time being. + +But that evening Bobby Hargrew hailed Jess in her father's store. + +"Say, Eminent Author! what do you know about _this?_" + +"About what, Bobby?" returned Jess. + +Bobby was unfurling some sort of a folded paper which she had drawn from +that inexhaustible pocket of hers. + +"See! it's a show bill. My cousin, Ed Pembroke, sent it to me from +Keyport. He says the town is plastered with them. Does it remind you of +anything?" and she began to read in a loud voice: + +"'Coming! Coming! Coming! North Street Orpheum----' same date as your +show here on Friday night, Jess." + +"I see," said Jess, peering over her shoulder as Bobby unctuously read +on: + +"'High Class Entertainment for High Class people!' Ha! that's good," +sniffed Bobby. "'The Lady of the Castle' played by a capable cast of +professional Thespians, who will assist the Talented Young Amateur, +GREBA PENDENNIS. 'Her portrayal of the _Duchess_ is a Work of Art.' Wow, +wow! Listen to that now!" cried Bobby, in great delight. "Wouldn't you +think that was Lil Pendleton?" + +Jess stared at the bill, and whispered: "I would indeed." + +"But of course it isn't!" gasped Bobby, looking at Jess, in sudden +curiosity. + +"What is Lil's middle name?" demanded Jess, suddenly. + +"Why--I---- Ah! she _has_ got a middle name, hasn't she? She signs it +'Lillian G. Pendleton!'" + +"That is it," said Jess. + +"But of course this can't be Lil?" cried Bobby, aghast. "'The Lady of +the Castle' might be another name for 'The Duchess of Doosenberry'; +though. What do you think, Jess?" + +"I don't know what to think," said Jess. "But you give me that bill, +Bobby, and I'll show it to Mother Wit." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII--"CAUGHT ON THE FLY" + + +The last few days before the first performance of "The Spring Road" was +a whirl of excitement for most of the girls of Central High, and all +those belonging to the M. O. R.'s. or who were to take part in the play. +Mr. Sharp, on his own responsibility, announced a general holiday for +Friday, with certain lessons to be made up to pay for the deducted time. + +"It is my opinion that little work can be expected from either the young +ladies or young gentlemen on the momentous day," he said. "Besides, I +understand that Miss Gould desires to have a final rehearsal of the play +on Friday morning on the stage upstairs. Therefore, mere matters of +education may be put aside." + +He was quite good natured about it, however, and entirely approved of +the attempt of Central High pupils to do something upon the stage that +was really "worth while." And Jess Morse's play was indeed far above the +average of amateur attempts. + +"You girls are invited to a dash on the _Blue Streak_ after the +rehearsal to-morrow, Sis," Chet Belding said to Laura at dinner Thursday +evening. "Lance and I will show you some sport." + +Mrs. Belding looked doubtfully at her husband. "Do you think that +iceboat Chet has built is really safe for the girls, James?" she asked. + +"Bless your heart, Mother!" returned the jeweler, his eyes twinkling, +"it's quite as safe for Laura and Jess as it is for the boys." + +"Ye--es, I suppose so," admitted the good woman. "But it doesn't _seem_ +so safe. Girls are different from boys." + +"Not so different, nowadays," grumbled Chet. "You ought to see some of +those husky Central High girls going off with Mrs. Case on their skis. +And ski running is as dangerous as iceboating--believe me!" + +"I _do_ believe you, my son. I have no reason to doubt your word," +returned Mother Belding, quietly. + +"Oh, Mum! that's only an expression----" + +"Please stick to English--and facts, Chetwood," advised his mother. + +"I declare!" grumpily remarked her son. "A meal of victuals at this +house has got to be just like attending one of Old Dimple's lectures." + +"Chet!" spoke his father, sternly. + +"Well! I guess I didn't mean it just that way--not the way it sounded," +the boy said hastily. "But mother _does_ pick a fellow up so----" + +"I have been doing that all your life, my son," said his mother. +"Whenever you stub your toe, mother has been there to comfort you." + +"Got you there, Chet," laughed Laura. "And you used to be a terrible +'stumble heels,' too." + +"Say! you're all down on me," declared her brother, but in a milder +tone. "I reckon I'm not so popular in this house as I thought I was. But +that isn't the answer to my question, Laura. Do you and Jess want to fly +with us to-morrow just after lunch?" + +"Of course we do," replied his sister. "I don't suppose mother has any +real objection?" + +"My objections to your sports and athletics seem to have very little +reality about them, children," said Mrs. Belding. "Even my husband will +not give me backing." + +"When I see Chet and Laura anemic, or otherwise sickly, as the result of +their out-of-door sports or gym. work, you will find me up in arms with +you against such activities, Mother," declared Mr. Belding, jovially. +"I'd a good deal rather have little Mother Wit here half a Tom-boy----" + +"Which I'm not, I hope, Papa Belding!" cried Laura, quickly. + +"I should hope not," said her mother. + +"All right," laughed Mr. Belding. "But I would rather you were than like +a few of the girls who attend your school. Some of them are growing up +to womanhood too quickly to suit me. There's that Pendleton girl----" + +"What do you know about Lily Pendleton, Father?" asked Laura, quickly. + +"Why, she dresses like a girl of twenty-five--and acts that grown up, +too," observed the jeweler. "She was in the store a week or so ago. Now! +there's another bad thing. Her mother lets her do just about as she +pleases, I guess." + +"Mrs. Pendleton has always been very lenient with Lillian," agreed his +wife. + +"The girl brought into my store a jewel box in which were things valued +at more than a thousand dollars, I believe. Old-fashioned jewels left +her by her grandmother. She thought of having some re-set And she really +wanted me to buy some of them. She said her mother wouldn't care what +she did with them." + +"Of course, James, you did not give the girl money?" exclaimed Mrs. +Belding. + +"Of course I did not! I am not a pawnbroker. But I valued the stones for +her, and she took them away. I wonder what she really meant by trying to +sell them?" + +Laura listened and flushed; but she remained silent. Since her visit to +the Plornish tenement, and since she had read the playbill from Keyport +that Jess had brought her, Laura had been very gravely exercised in her +mind regarding Lily Pendleton. But she could not bring herself to the +point of taking either her father or mother into her confidence. It was +not her own secret; it was Lily's. + +The following morning the rehearsal of "The Spring Road" went with a +snap and vim that delighted everybody. Miss Gould could not praise the +girls and boys too highly. Even Mr. Pizotti signified his satisfaction +with the way in which the play proceeded. Really, the actual production +of the piece would go on well without his presence, although the sum +they had agreed to pay the stage manager covered the three performances +of the play already arranged for. + +Laura and Jess went down to the lake after luncheon to meet the two +boys. The _Blue_ _Streak_, fresh in a new coat of paint, and with every +part of the mechanism guaranteed in perfect order, was already hauled +out upon the ice. + +The surface of the lake was not as it had been when the girls had taken +their first ride on the aero-iceboat. Then the ice was like glass; but +now it was pebbly, broken in spots, and not a little "hummocky." There +was a stiff wind blowing, too, and this broke up the thinner ice around +the water-holes. The course for sleighs and for iceboats was fairly +safe, however, all the way to Keyport. + +"Say! we just saw Lily going driving with that sleek little foreigner," +said Lance, as the two girls appeared. "I should think Mrs. Pendleton +would send a chaperone with her daughter. Old Mike, the coachman, is +right under the girl's thumb." + +"What do you mean, Lance?" asked Laura, quickly. + +"Why, Lil Pendleton and the stage manager are out there in the +Pendletons' sleigh. They're aiming for Keyport. And Lil has a big box in +the sleigh. Guess they are taking lunch along." + +"Lunch!" ejaculated Chet. "Why, that yellow box would hold enough for an +army." + +"My goodness me! A yellow box?" cried Jess. "Was it that box in which +Lil has been bringing her costumes to and from the rehearsals?" + +"Dunno," said Chet, not much interested. + +But Jess turned to her chum, eagerly. + +"You know, Laura, she insisted in packing the dresses all into that box +again this noon and taking them home with her as usual, although every +other girl left her costume in the dressing-rooms. Did you notice it?" + +"No," said Laura, slowly. + +"Maybe she doesn't expect to get back until it's time to go on for the +evening performance," suggested Lance. + +"That's not it," returned Laura, quietly. + +"What do you suppose that girl has got in her mind, Laura?" demanded +Jess, as the boys were making the final preparations for their start. + +"I do not know. But I believe she is the 'talented young amateur' +advertised to appear at the Keyport Orpheum to-night," said Laura, +gravely. + +"You don't mean it!" gasped Jess. Then she added, with sudden +excitement: + +"Why, she'll spoil my play!" + +"If she is not here to play her part she will certainly interfere sadly +with the success of 'The Spring Road,'" admitted Laura. + +"Oh, oh! That mean, mean thing!" cried Jess, under her breath. + +"She is taking her costumes to wear in the production of her own play, +which she has renamed 'The Lady of the Castle,'" said Laura. "She will +make a lovely 'Duchess of Doosenberry,' as Bobby nicknamed it, in those +robes, Jess." + +"Why, Laura, I believe you are not sympathetic," cried Jess. + +"Don't you be afraid, dear. Miss Lily will not appear as 'the talented +young amateur, Greba Pendennis,' if that is what she really intends to +attempt. I have fixed that." + +"What do you mean?" demanded Jess. But just then the boys shouted to +them and they had to hurry to take their places in the iceboat + +"Chet," said Laura, to her brother, as she settled herself aboard, "run +down near the Pendleton sleigh if you can. I want to speak to Lil." + +"Just as you say, Sis," returned her brother. "All ready? Let her go, +Lance! We'll show these girls some traveling, eh?" + +The _Blue Streak_ was off in a moment and the way she tore over the ice +always gave the two girls, at first, a feeling as though a wreck were +imminent. But in a minute or two the feeling subsided, and through the +automobile goggles they both wore they dared look ahead. + +On this cold afternoon there were not many sleighs or iceboats on the +racing course between Centerport and Keyport. But suddenly Lance looked +around, grinned through his mask, and waved his hand toward the shore. +The girls immediately knew that he had sighted the Pendleton sleigh. + +Laura turned to look at her brother, and he nodded at her reassuringly. +Lance reduced the speed, and the _Blue Streak_ began to move shoreward. + +The girls could now see the sleigh plainly. The yellow box in which Lil +carried her costumes was a splotch of color against the white fur robes. +And there was Lil herself and the black figure of the little stage +director. + +The _Blue Streak_ ran closer and of a sudden the young folks aboard the +iceboat saw that something was amiss with the Pendletons' horses. The +dapple grays were fat, well fed beasts, and the coachman was old and +rheumatic. Perhaps the appearance of another iceboat that had just +passed the sleigh had startled the horses. + +However that might be, old Mike was suddenly flung from his seat, and +the horses charged down the lake at a gallop, swinging the sleigh behind +them at a pace that threatened to overturn it at any moment! + +The four friends on the aero-iceboat could hear Lil scream. And up +sprang the little black figure of Pizotti, alias Plornish, and the next +moment he had leaped to the ice! + +The horses tore on, and Lil was really in peril. But Chet guided the +_Blue Streak_ right down to the runaway, coming so close that Lance +Darby was able to leap into the driver's seat from the running iceboat. + +It was a feat that called for agility and coolness; but the boy did it +bravely. The next moment he was out on the tongue, had recovered the +trailing lines, and the dapple grays were soon brought to an abrupt +stop. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV--THE GREAT NIGHT + + +The event had certainly come to a startling climax. Even Lily herself, +writing a dozen "Duchess of Dawnleighs," could not have imagined quite +so serious a situation to balk the determination of her created +heroines, as here had arrived to balk herself! + +"Well, Lil," Laura said to her, as the girl got out of the sleigh. "I +guess you won't run away to-day and leave us all in a fix--and spoil +Jess's play. What do you think?" + +"Oh, Laura! is poor Mike hurt?" cried the girl, and from that moment +Laura thought better of her. For Lil showed she was not entirely +heartless. She had thought first of the old coachman who had served her +family for so many years, and who was even then probably helping her to +get to Keyport and the expected performance of "The Duchess of +Dawnleigh," against his own good sense. + +"Here he comes, limping," said Laura, rather brusquely. "He's not dead. +But how about Plornish?" + +"Plornish?" returned Lil, puzzled. + +"Pizotti, then, if you prefer his stage name." + +"Is--isn't Pizotti his name?" demanded Lil, still struggling with her +tears. + +"His real name is Abel Plornish," said Laura, bluntly. She saw no use in +"letting Lily down easy." "He has a wife and seven children living down +on Governor Street, in a miserable tenement. He neglects them a good +deal, I believe. But this time, if he had made what he expected to out +of you----By the way, Lil, what were you going to pay him?" + +"I--I----For putting me on the stage with his company?" she stammered. + +"Is that the way he put it? Well, yes," said Laura. "It's the same +thing. He was going to star you in your own play, was he?" + +"Ye--es," sobbed Lily. "And now it's all spoiled! And I was going to +take all the money I pawned grandmother's jewels for----" + +"Goodness me! How much?" snapped Laura. + +"Five hundred dollars." + +"Has he got the cash?" + +"No," sobbed Lil. + +"All right, then. No harm done. I went to Mr. Monterey and he found out +that Plornish had got together no company at all. You were the only +person who had learned a part in your play, I guess, Lily. Ah! Chet's +got him." + +Indeed, Chet had stopped the aero-iceboat and run back to the prostrate +stage director. Plornish had a broken leg and had to be lifted by both +boys into the Pendleton sleigh. Old Michael could manage the horses +again and turned them about. Laura elected to go back to Centerport with +the injured man and the very-much-disturbed Lily Pendleton. + +"Now, just see the sort of a man this fellow is," said Laura, paying no +attention to the groanings of Plornish, "He was intending to get the +money from you at Keyport and then disappear. All he spent was merely +for the bills put up advertising the show--the show which he never +intended would come off, Lil! And you were going down there and leaving +us all in the lurch!" + +"Oh, I'm sorry!" groaned Lil. + +"I hope so. Sorry enough to go home and rest and prepare to play your +part in 'The Spring Road' to-night," spoke Laura, tartly. + +"Oh, dear me! how can I?" cried the girl. + +"If you don't," said Laura, frankly, "I won't keep this affair a secret. +You will be the laughing stock of all Central High. I am not going to +allow Jess Morse's play to be spoiled because of _you_. If you were so +jealous and envious that you did not want to see Jess's play succeed, +you could have refused, at least, to be cast for an important part in +it. And now," went on Mother Wit, firmly, "you are going to play that +part." + +"Oh, Laura! you are so harsh," sobbed Lily. + +"Much that will hurt you!" sniffed Laura. "We'll drive around by the +hospital and leave this Plornish man. If he dares to open his mouth, +we'll have him punished for trying to swindle you," and Laura looked +sternly at the black-eyed, foreign-looking fellow. + +"You see, we know all about you, Mr. Plornish, and you will have to +abide by what is done for you. Some of us will help your family while +you are helpless. But you've got to be good, or even Mr. Vandergriff +will forget that you and he used to be boys together. Pah! with your +hair dye, and paint and powder, and all! Why, you are nearly fifty years +old, so Mr. Vandergriff says, and you act and dress like a silly boy." + +Lily listened to all this, and stopped sobbing. She began to see that +there was a chance for her to escape being a butt for her +school-fellows' jokes. + +"Can--can you keep Jess and the boys from talking?" she whispered to +Laura. + +"They'll be like oysters if I tell them to," declared Mother Wit. + +"Oh, then, I'll do my best," agreed the foolish girl. Possibly she was +deeply impressed by her escape. + +Mother Wit's plans were carried out to the letter. Plornish was +deposited at the hospital, where he would remain for some weeks. The +performance of Jess's play would have to get along without him on this +opening night. + +And when the hour for the performance arrived, Lily Pendleton was ready, +her tears wiped away, glorious in one of her costumes, and "preening +like a peacock"--to quote Bobby Hargrew--before one of the long mirrors +in the dressing room. + +"My, my!" laughed Bobby. "You look as grand as the Duchess of +Doosenberry, don't you, Lil?" + +Lily looked at her rather sharply. "I'd really like to know how much +that child knows?" the older girl murmured. + +But it wasn't what the shrewd Bobby _knew;_ it was what she _suspected!_ + + + + +CHAPTER XXV--GOOD NEWS FOR JESS + + +Behind the scenes just before the curtain rose upon the first act of +"The Spring Road" there was such a bustle, and running about, and +whispering, and excited signals and fragmentary talk, that it did look, +Jess said, as though matters never would be straightened out. + +Did this one know his or her part perfectly? Was this dress right? Oh, +dear! how can this one be made to look right "from the front?" And a +thousand other doubts and queries. + +No matter how many times a play is rehearsed, it does seem just before +the opening performance as though a dozen things would happen to spoil +the effect of the first appearance. And to the author of the play it +seems as though every person in that audience is a carping critic! + +Jess peered through the peephole in the curtain and saw that the hall +was crowded. + +"I just know it will be a failure!" she moaned to her chum, Laura +Belding. "It will be laughed at. I feel it!" + +"Strange how I should feel so differently!" spoke Laura, cheerfully. + +"Oh, dear! I'll never be able to hold up my head again if it's not +liked," Jess pursued. "It will just _kill_ me." + +"Don't die so easy, Chum," said Laura. "You know we'll need you in the +big inter-school meet after Easter." + +"Oh! I'll never be fit to do anything in athletics again!" gasped Jess. + +Which was certainly not borne out by the facts, for Jess Morse took a +most important part in the spring meet of the Girls' Branch Athletic +League, as a perusal of the next volume of this series: "The Girls of +Central High on Track and Field; Or, The Champions of the School +League," will prove. + +At last Miss Gould said all was ready. Really, she did very well without +the assistance of the unpleasant, black-eyed, little Pizotti! The signal +was given and the curtain rose on the first tableau--and it _was_ a +pretty sight! In this allegorical introduction to Jess's play there were +a score of the very prettiest girls of Central High, and they had been +dressed and were grouped so artistically that an "Ah!" of admiration +burst from the big audience. + +The little fantasy unwound the thread of plot which introduced the real +play; but when the curtain went down there was no enthusiastic applause. +The audience was expectant; but did not wholly understand it. And this +was as it should be; the intent of that little prologue was merely to +whet the appetite for the real play. + +"The Spring Road" ran its three acts through with unvarying success. The +applause grew more pronounced; the interest of the audience grew deeper. +The fact that a young girl had written the text of the play became +harder and harder to believe as the evening lengthened. + +At the end--when the general lights went out, one by one upon the stage +and left the two principal characters in the radiance of the spot light +alone--and when this dimmed slowly and finally went out, the silence of +the audience was momentous. + +Jess, in the wings, clinging to her chum, waited, scarcely breathing, +for the verdict. Had it failed? Had the little lesson she had tried to +teach, and the pretty story she had told, failed to "get over?" + +Suddenly there was a roar of delight from the back of the hall. Some of +the older boys of Central High had managed to get tickets to this first +performance, and, led by big Griff, they began to chant the well-known +yell of Central High. + +But _that_ was not what Jess waited for. That was school loyalty. She +had expected that. + +As the thunder of the boys' applause began to wane there was another +sound which reached the ears of those listening behind the curtain. A +steady, sharp clapping of hands; then joined by a shuffling of feet. The +great mass of the audience was applauding. + +The curtain went up, and the whole company appeared. It rose and rose +again, at last to display only the principals, down to the final two who +had closed the play. But that was not enough. + +They could hear Dr. Agnew's heavy voice growling somewhere out in the +darkness of the auditorium: + +"Author! Author! Bring her out!" + +The boys took up the demand. They even called on Jess Morse by name, and +hitched that name to the battle cry of their athletic field. + +"You've got to go!" cried Laura, giving her chum a push. "You've got to, +Jess!" + +And so Jess Morse stepped forward, modestly, bashfully, and faced the +great audience. Tears half blinded her, but she bowed as she had been +taught. And all the time she tasted the first intoxicating draught of +Fame! + +But that was not quite the end of it all. Mr. Monterey, of the +Centerport Opera House, was in a seat down in front that evening. He +never was seen to applaud once; but on Saturday evening, when the play +was repeated for the general public to attend, he came again and this +time brought a stranger who paid quite as close attention to Jess's play +as did Mr. Monterey himself. + +After the performance and before Jess and Laura started for home with +their escorts, they heard that the stranger with the local manager was a +very famous New York producer. He had come especially to see "The Spring +Road." + +And when Jess arrived home she found the gentleman, with Mr. Monterey, +conferring with her mother in their little sitting room. + +"I assure you," said Mrs. Morse, proudly, "the play is practically +Josephine's own work. It is her idea, clothed in her own language. I am +pleased that you find it so admirable for a child to have written----" + +"It is admirable--in spots--for anybody to have written," said the New +York gentleman. "And this is the young lady?" + +Mrs. Morse introduced Jess. + +"You are the budding playwright?" suggested the stranger. + +"I am not so sure of that," replied Jess, troubled a little. "I wanted +the prize Mrs. Kerrick offered, and I did my best." + +"And your best is very good--remarkably good," declared the producer. "I +have come to see you and your mother about it. I want you to let me have +the right to produce the play. Monday I will come with a contract; +meanwhile I want Mrs. Morse to accept this check--which Mr. Monterey +will endorse for me--to bind the agreement. I take a sort of option on +the play, as it were," he said, and he handed the check to Jess. + +"You do not mean it?" gasped the girl. + +"I certainly do," said the other, rising. "Your play is not like the +work of a professional playwright; but a professional writer of plays +can take your work and whip it into shape----And I am willing to show my +confidence in its final success by risking that sum upon it to start +with." + +Jess looked then at the check. It was another two hundred dollars. Jess +shut her eyes tight for a moment; then she opened them again to be sure +she was not dreaming. + +When she opened them she really believed she saw Poverty fly out of the +window! + + THE END + + + + +THE JANICE DAY SERIES + +By HELEN BEECHER LONG + +_12 mo, cloth, illustrated, and colored jacket_ + +A series of books for girls which have been uniformly successful. Janice +Day is a character that will live long in juvenile fiction. Every volume +is full of inspiration. There is an abundance of humor, quaint +situations, and worth-while effort, and likewise plenty of plot and +mystery. + +An ideal series for girls from nine to sixteen. + + JANICE DAY, THE YOUNG HOMEMAKER + JANICE DAY AT POKETOWN + THE TESTING OF JANICE DAY + HOW JANICE DAY WON + THE MISSION OF JANICE DAY + + + + +THE NAN SHERWOOD SERIES + +By Annie Roe Carr + +_12 mo, cloth, illustrated, and colored jacket_ + +In Annie Roe Carr we have found a young woman of wide experience among +girls--in schoolroom, in camp and while traveling. She knows girls of +to-day thoroughly--their likes and dislikes--and knows that they demand +almost as much action as do the boys. And she knows humor--good, clean +fun and plenty of it. + + NAN SHERWOOD AT PINE CAMP + or The Old Lumberman's Secret + + NAN SHERWOOD AT LAKEVIEW HALL + or The Mystery of the Haunted Boathouse + + NAN SHERWOOD'S WINTER HOLIDAYS + or Rescuing the Runaways + + NAN SHERWOOD AT ROSE RANCH + or The Old Mexican's Treasure + + NAN SHERWOOD AT PALM BEACH + or Strange Adventures Among the Orange Groves + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Girls of Central High on the Stage, by +Gertrude W. Morrison + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GIRLS OF CENTRAL HIGH *** + +***** This file should be named 37303.txt or 37303.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/3/0/37303/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from images made available by the HathiTrust +Digital Library.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/37303.zip b/37303.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1663ab1 --- /dev/null +++ b/37303.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fa3fd4f --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #37303 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/37303) |
