That was a very unsatisfactory interview for the landlord, and particularly so for Mrs. Morse. She complained when he had gone to Jess:
"Now, my day is just spoiled. I'm all at loose ends. It will cost me a day's work. Really, Josephine, if only people wouldn't nag me so for money!"
And Jess strove to shield her all that she could from such interviews. Mrs. Morse needed to live alone in a world with her brain-children. Meanwhile her flesh-and-blood child had to fight her battles with the landlord and tradesmen.
It was amid such sordid troubles that Jess evolved the idea for her play. The butterfly is born of the ugly chrysalis; out of this unlovely environment grew a pretty, idyllic comedy which, although crude in spots, and lacking the professional touch which makes a dramatic piece "easy acting," really showed such promise that Mrs. Morse acclaimed its value loudly.
"Oh, Mother! don't praise me so much," begged Jess. "The theme is good, I know. But it scares me. How can I ever dress it up to make it sound like a real play? It sounds so jerky and imperfect—that part that I have written, I mean."
"There is something a dramatic critic told me once that may be true," replied her mother. "It
