chum, with her brisk, bird-like way: "How's the play going, Jess?"
"I'm—I'm afraid it's finished," said her chum, slowly.
"'Afraid!'" repeated Laura, in amazement.
"Yes. As far as I can finish it."
"But you're not going to give it up in the middle?" cried Laura.
"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.
