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