# The Girls of Central High on the Stage/Chapter 13

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!"