"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.