“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.