“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.