The Girls of Central High on the Stage; Or, The Play That Took The Prize — Edition Insights

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In Category - School Stories

Authors: Morrison, Gertrude W. Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2011 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: Schools -- Juvenile fiction; High school students -- Juvenile fiction; Girls -- Societies and clubs -- Juvenile fiction; Theater -- Juvenile fiction Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

Edition facts

Words 43,832

Reading time 191 min

Text sections 5

For The Girls of Central High on the Stage; Or, The Play That Took The Prize — Edition Insights, the stored edition analysis reports 43,832 words, 3 hr 11 min estimated reading time, and 5 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 13.3 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Schools -- Juvenile fiction,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Source: Project Gutenberg record #37303

This editorial note examines the secret M.O.R. society, the economic pressures on Jess Morse, and the play production in Gertrude W. Morrison's school story, focusing on tensions between privilege and need.

Editorial Edition Score 4.7/5

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Description quality20 pts
Title & short description10 pts
Source metadata20 pts
Text length15 pts
Chapters / structure15 pts
EPUB file integrity20 pts

Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.

Edition quality

File: pg37303

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st Highs, and there was considerable rivalry between the girls of the three schools, not only in athletic matters, but in all other affairs. Out of school hours, basketball and other athletics had pretty well filled the minds of the girls of Central High; and Laura Belding and her particular chums had been as active in these inter-school athletics as any.

In fact, it was Mother Wit, as her friends and schoolmates called Laura, who interested Colonel Richard Swayne, Mrs. Kerrick’s father, in the matter of girls’ athletics and so made possible for the girls of Central High the finest athletic field and gymnasium in the State.

Incidentally she had interested Mrs. Kerrick in the girls of Central High, too, and reminded the widowed lady that she was an alumna and a member of the M. O. R. In her renewed interest in the affairs of the secret society and in the Girls’ Branch Athletic League, Mrs. Kerrick had become very different from the almost helpless invalid first introduced to the reader in the first volume of this series, entitled “The Girls of Central High; Or, Rivals for All Honors.”

In that first volume was related the establishment of athletics for girls at Central High, and introduced Laura Belding and her especial chums in their school trials and triumphs. In the second volume, “The Girls of Central High on Lake Luna; Or, The Crew That Won,” were narrated the summer aquatic sports of the same group of girls and their boy friends.

“The Girls of Central High at Basketball; Or, The Great Gymnasium Mystery,” the third volume of the series, told of the girls when they had become juniors and related the struggle of the rival basketball teams of the three Centerport highs, and the high schools of Keyport and Lumberport, at either end of Lake Luna, for the trophy cup. That series of games had just been finished and Central High had won the trophy, when Laura and her friends, as members of the M. O. R., are again introduced to the reader’s notice at the opening of this chapter.

CHAPTER II—WHAT JOSEPHINE MORSE NEEDED

In spite of the bright lights illuminating the windows of the M. O. R. house—and many other larger and finer houses at that end of Whiffle Street—outside it was dark and dreary enough. Especially was this so at the “poverty-stricken end,” as Josephine Morse called her section of the street. Jess and her widowed mother lived on the fringe of the wealthy Hill district, where Whiffle Street develops an elbow, suddenly becomes narrow, and debouches upon Market Street.

It was raining, too. Not an honest, splashing downpour, but a drizzling, half-hearted rain that drifted about the streets as though ashamed of itself, leaving a deposit of slime on all the crosswalks, and making the corner street-lamps weep great tears. The gas-lamps, too, seemed in a fog and struggled feebly against the blackness of the evening.

Under a huge umbrella which snuffed her almost like a candle, Jess had made her way into Market Street and to Mr. Closewick’s grocery store near the corner. She carried a basket on her arm and she had given the clerk rather a long list of necessary things, although she had studied to make the quantities as modest as possible. The clerk had put them all up now and packed them into the basket and stood expectantly with the list checked off in his hand.

“Two dollars and seven cents, Miss Jess,” he said.

“I’ll have to ask you to add that to our bill,” said the girl, flushing. “Mother is short of money just now.”

“Wait a moment, Miss Jess; I’ll speak to Mr. Closewick,” said the clerk, seemingly as much embarrassed as the girl herself, and he stepped hastily toward the glass-enclosed office at the rear of the store.

But the pursy old man with the double chin and spectacles on his forehead, the height of which the wisp of reddish-gray hair could not hide, had observed it all. He got down ponderously from his stool and squeaked out behind the long counter in his shiny boots.

“I sent my bill over to your mother this morning, Miss Jess,” he said. “It is more than twenty dollars without this list of goods to-night,” and he shook the modest little paper in his hand, having taken it from the clerk.

“Mother is short of money just now,” repeated Jess.

“So’m I. You tell her so. I can’t let you increase your indebtedness,” and his pudgy hand lifted the basket and put it on the shelf behind him.

“You pay me something on account, or pay for these goods you’ve ordered this evening. I’m needing money, too.”

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The Girls of Central High on the Stage opens with the M.O.R. house “alight from cellar to garret” for its first big reception of the winter, a scene that immediately establishes the secret society as a central institution. The initials M.O.R. are never explained—the narrator declares “we shall never learn just what ‘M. O. R.’ stands for”—creating a deliberate mystery that sets the society apart from the school’s official activities. The boys’ jealous nickname “Mothers of the Republic” hints at the girls’ exclusive control over this space, which long predates the Girls’ Branch Athletic League. The house itself, a “narrow slice of brownstone front” in the exclusive Hill section, becomes a symbol of both privilege and financial strain, as its rental burden weighs on the Board of Governors.

The Economics of a Thirteen-Foot Slice

The M.O.R. house is described with precise dimensions: a “thirteen-foot slice of brownstone” in a block of similar dwellings, within sight of the school. This narrowness contrasts with the social weight the society carries. The rental cost has become “a serious problem” for the Board of Governors, hinting that even among the Hill’s exclusive residents, money is a concern. The society’s membership has thinned—some have gone to college, married, or moved away—yet those who remain “remembered tenderly” the society. This tension between maintaining a prestigious physical space and the practical difficulty of funding it recurs throughout the excerpts.

Jess Morse’s family faces a more acute version of the same problem. They rent from Mr. Chumley, who has raised their rent and threatens eviction. Mrs. Prentice, a wealthy woman, offers Jess a cottage she owns, but the transaction is not entirely altruistic: she “neglected to say that she had paid the tenant a certain sum to leave.” Jess’s mother hesitates, “shrank from the change,” and questions the expense of moving. Jess must “attend to every detail” herself, hiring a truckman and packing after school. The contrast between the M.O.R.’s collective rental struggle and Jess’s individual hustle underscores how economic pressure operates differently across the social spectrum.

Jess Morse: Practicality and Persuasion

Jess Morse is introduced as a “practical girl” by Mrs. Prentice, who observes that Jess will have to “do something yourself toward moving, to get your mother started.” Jess’s practicality is evident in her quick assessment of the cottage: “It is a way opened, Mrs. Prentice! Better than we could ever expect.” Yet her mother doubts, saying “I am afraid you were not politic enough” with Mr. Chumley. Jess counters that the landlord “has already raised it and threatened to put us out.” The dialogue reveals a generational divide: Mrs. Morse hopes the old gentleman will relent, while Jess sees the situation as final.

Jess’s resourcefulness extends to financial calculation. She argues that the two dollars less per month in rent “will soon pay for that” moving expense. She obtains a portion of her mother’s check for current expenses and manages the move herself. The narrator notes that “Jess had to do it all.” This self-reliance is a recurring trait, but it is also a necessity born of limited options. The excerpts do not show Jess on stage or rehearsing for the play; instead, they depict her navigating housing insecurity. The play, promised by the title, remains a future event, and Jess’s immediate challenges are material rather than artistic.

The Unseen Play and the Society’s Mysteries

Despite the title’s promise of a play that “took the prize,” the excerpts focus on the M.O.R. society’s reception and Jess’s housing crisis. The play itself is not described in the provided text. The society’s initials remain a secret, and the boys’ nickname “Mothers of the Republic” is dismissed as jealousy. The society’s house is a space from which boys are “entirely shut out,” save for an Easter reception. This gendered exclusivity mirrors the broader structure of the story: the girls’ world is self-contained, with its own hierarchies and problems.

The excerpts hint at a larger narrative arc—Jess’s involvement in the play likely connects to her financial needs or social standing—but the evidence does not reveal how. The chapter titles, such as “The First Dress Rehearsal” and “The Great Night,” suggest the play is a major event, but the provided text stops before those scenes. Readers must infer that Jess’s practical skills and determination will serve her in the theatrical endeavor, just as they do in securing housing. The mystery of the M.O.R. initials and the unseen play create a sense of anticipation that the full book presumably resolves.

Readers approaching this book should attend to the economic undercurrents that run beneath the surface of school life. The M.O.R. society’s financial strain and Jess’s housing troubles are not mere subplots; they shape the characters’ decisions and relationships. The play, when it finally appears, may serve as a stage for these tensions to play out. Pay attention to how the narrator withholds information—the society’s name, the play’s content—and consider what these gaps reveal about the story’s priorities.

I remember how The Girls of Central High on the Stage whispered of hidden societies and the quiet ache of wanting more than one's pockets allow. It made me think of Two little travellers — Edition Insights, another pair of young souls finding their way through small necessities and larger wonders. Both sit together on my shelf, sharing that gentle, unspoken understanding.