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.