"'O joy, O bliss, O rapture! Let happiness now hap!I am a sea of gurgling glee, with ecstacy on tap.'"
Hippy recited this effusion in a killing falsetto voice, and endeavored to embrace Reddy fervently, but was dragged back by Tom and David, to Reddy's visible relief.
"He's the idol of the hour. Don't put your irreverent hands on him," was David's injunction.
"But I adore idols," persisted Hippy. "Let me at him."
"Quit it, fat one!" growled Reddy, with a grin. "I'll settle with you later."
With gay laughter and jest, the young folks made their way from the grounds and started down the road toward home.
The whole party, walking four abreast, had just turned the curve where the road ended and Main Street began, when there was a hoarse honk! honk! and a runabout decorated in blue and white, containing Eleanor and Edna Wright, bore down upon them at lightning speed. The girls, uttering little cries of alarm, scattered to both sides of the road, with the exception of Mabel Allison, who, in her hurry to get out of the way, stumbled and fell directly in the path of the oncoming machine.
But sudden as had been Mabel's fall, Grace Harlowe was equal to the emergency. With a bound she reached the middle of the road, seized Mabel and dragged her back just as the runabout passed over the place where she had fallen. It almost grazed her outstretched hand, then shot on down the road without slackening its speed for an instant.
There was a cry of horror from the young folks that ended in a sigh of relief. David and Tom Gray quickly raised Mabel to her feet and turned to Grace, whose face was ghastly, while she trembled like a leaf. The reaction had set in the moment she realized that Mabel was safe. Jessica and Nora had both begun to cry, while the faces of the others fully expressed their feelings.
"Grace," said Tom in a husky voice, "that was the quickest move I ever saw any one make."
Grace drew a long breath, the color returned to her pale face and in a measure she recovered herself.
"Some one had to do something," she said weakly. "I was the nearest to her, that's all. Are you hurt, Mabel, dear?" she asked, turning to the young girl, who stood by Jessica, looking white and dazed.
"It came so suddenly," she faltered, "I couldn't get up. It was awful!" She shuddered, then burst into tears, burying her face in Jessica's shoulder.
"There, there," soothed Jessica, wiping her own eyes. "It's all right now. Stand up straight and let me brush your coat. You are all mud."
"Here come the would-be murderesses now," cried Hippy. "They actually managed to stop and turn around, and now they are coming this way. One of them is my pet abomination—Miss Wright. She used to call me 'fatty' when I was little, and I've never forgiven her. But who is the reckless young person playing chauffeur? She ought to be put in jail for exceeding the speed limit."
"Hush!" said Grace. "Here she is."
The runabout had stopped and Eleanor alighted. Ignoring the four chums, she walked up to Miriam Nesbit.
"Will you please tell me if any one is hurt?" she asked pettishly. "I saw some one fall, but couldn't stop the machine. I supposed the highway was for vehicles, not pedestrians four abreast."
"Miss Savell, you have just missed running over Miss Allison," said Miriam coldly. "Had it not been for Miss Harlowe, there would have been a serious accident. I should advise you to drive more carefully in future, or you may not escape so easily another time."
Eleanor flushed at these words and said haughtily, "I did not ask for advice, I asked for information."
"Very true," replied Miriam calmly, "but you see I have given you both."
"You are the most ill-bred lot of girls I have ever seen," returned Eleanor crossly, "and I think you are making a great deal of unnecessary fuss over a small matter. Why didn't your prize orphan get out of the way with the rest of you? Besides, you have no right to block a public highway, as you did. I am very sorry I came back at all."
Turning on her heel, she walked back to the runabout, climbed in and drove down the road like the wind, apparently indifferent as to what comment her heartless behavior might create.
"Who on earth is that girl?" inquired Reddy Brooks. "She has about as much sympathy as a stone."
"That is Eleanor Savell," replied Anne Pierson, "and she can be nice if she wishes, but she doesn't like us very well. That's why she was so hateful."
"So that's the famous Eleanor?" said Tom Gray in a low tone to Grace. "Aunt Rose was telling me about her this morning at breakfast. I supposed she was a great friend of yours."
"She was, but she isn't," returned Grace. "That's rather indefinite. However, I'll tell you about it as we go back."
"She certainly can't complain as far as looks are concerned," said Hippy. "She must have yards of blue ribbon that she won at baby shows when but a mere infant."
"Attention, boys and girls," cried Grace. "Let us forget what has happened and have just as good a time to-night as we can. We mustn't spoil the party."
"I move that we give Grace Harlowe a special round of applause for being a heroine," cried Hippy. "Hurrah!"
His example was quickly followed and the noise of the cheering brought people to their doors to see what the excitement was about.
"Do stop," protested Grace. "People will begin asking all sorts of questions."
"Don't interfere with our simple pleasures," expostulated Hippy. "Let us howl in peace. High School yell next, please."
By the time the party had reached the center of the town where their ways parted, the shadow cast by the near accident had almost disappeared.
By eight o'clock that evening the last guest had arrived, and the Harlowe's hospitable home was the scene of radiant good cheer. Mrs. Gray, enthroned in a big chair in one corner of the drawing room, was in her element, and the young folks vied with each other in doing her homage. The sprightly old lady was never so happy as when surrounded by young folks. She had a word or smile for each one, and the new girls who had at first felt rather timid about meeting her, were soon entirely at ease in her presence.
The greater part of the furniture had been removed from the big living room and the floor had been crashed; while a string orchestra that made a specialty of playing for parties had been hired for the pleasure of those who cared to dance.
As dancing was the chief amusement at nearly all of the young people's parties in Oakdale, the floor was filled from the beginning of the first waltz until supper was announced. This was served at two long tables in the dining room, Mrs. Gray occupying the seat of honor at the head of one, and Miss Thompson, whowas a favorite at High School parties, the other. There were miniature ears of corn, turkeys, pumpkins and various other favors appropriate to Thanksgiving at each one's place. In the center of one table stood two dolls dressed in the style of costume worn by the Pilgrim fathers and mothers. They held a scroll between them on which was printed the Thanksgiving Proclamation. In the center of the other table were two dolls, one dressed in football uniform, a miniature football under its arm, while the other, dressed as a High School girl, held up a blue banner with O. H. S. on it in big, white letters.
This had been Grace's idea. She had dressed the dolls with the idea of contrasting the first Thanksgiving with that of to-day. There was a great craning of necks from those at the one table to see the central figures on the other, but soon every one settled down to the discussion of the dainties provided for them.
The supper ended with a toast to their young hostess, which was drunk standing, and then the guests repaired to the drawing room, where impromptu stunts were in order. Every one was obliged to do something, if only to make a remark appropriate to the occasion. Nora sang, Anne recited, Grace and Miriam did a Spanish dance that they had practised during vacationwith remarkable spirit and effect. Jessica was then detailed to play, and under cover of her music, Tom, Reddy, David and Hippy left the room, Tom returning presently to announce solemnly that an original one-act drama,entitled"The Suffragette," written by Mr. Wingate and presented by a notable cast, would be the next offering.
After a moment's wait, Hippy, Reddy and David appeared, and were greeted with shouts of laughter. Reddy minced along in a bonnet and skirt belonging to Mrs. Harlowe, while Hippy wore a long-sleeved gingham pinafore of Grace's, which lacked considerable of meeting in the back, and was kept on by means of a sash. After deliberately setting their stage in full view of the audience at one end of the room, the play began, with David as the meek, hen-pecked husband, Hippy as the neglected child, who wept and howled continuously, while Reddy played the unnatural wife and mother, who neglected her family and held woman's suffrage meetings in the street.
The dialogue was clever, and the action of the sketch so ridiculous that the audience laughed from the first line until the climax, especially when the suffragette was hustled off to jail by Tom Gray, in the rôle of a policeman, for disturbing the peace, while her husband andchild executed a wild dance of joy as she was hauled off the scene, protesting vigorously.
The applause was tremendous and the cast were obliged to bow their thanks several times before it subsided. Songs, speeches and recitations followed rapidly until everyone had contributed something in the way of a stunt. Then the guests formed two long lines from the living room straight through the big archway into the drawing room, and soon a Virginia reel was in full swing, led off by Mr. Harlowe and Mrs. Gray, who took her steps as daintily as when she had danced at her first party so many years before.
After the reel, the young folks romped through "Paul Jones," and then the party broke up, all declaring that never before had they had quite such a good time.
As Grace sleepily prepared for bed, she felt a little thrill of pride at the success of her party, and her only regret was the fact that of all those invited, Eleanor was the only one who had refused to be present.
Now that Thanksgiving was past, basketball became the topic of the hour. The juniors had accepted the challenge of the senior class, and had agreed to play them on Saturday, December 12, at two o'clock, in the gymnasium. Only two weeks remained in which to practise. Their sorority enthusiasm had so completely run away with them that they had even neglected basketball until now. Therefore GraceHarlowelost no time in getting Miss Thompson's permission to use the gymnasium, and promptly notified her team and the subs. to meet there, in gymnasium suits, prepared to play, that afternoon.
The instant the last bell sounded on lessons, ten girls made for their lockers, and fifteen minutes later the first team and the subs. were moving toward the gymnasium deep in the discussion of the coming game and their chances for success over their opponents.
A brief meeting was held, and the girls were assigned to their positions. Grace had fully intended that Miriam should play center, but when she proposed it, Miriam flatly refused to do so,and asked for her old position of right forward.
"You are our captain," she declared to Grace, "and the best center I ever saw on a girls' team. It would be folly to change now. Don't you agree with me, girls?"
Nora was detailed as left forward, while Marian Barber and Eva Allen played right and left guards. The substitutes were also assigned their positions and practice began.
Before they had been on the floor twenty minutes the girls were thoroughly alive to the joy of the game and worked with the old-time dash and spirit that had won them the championship the previous year. Now that they were in harmony with each other, they played with remarkable unity, and after an hour's practice Grace decided that they were in a fair way to "whip the seniors off the face of the earth."
"I never saw you girls work better!" she exclaimed. "It will be a sorry day for the seniors when we line up on the twelfth."
"There'll be a great gnashing of senior teeth after the game," remarked Nora confidently.
"Do you know, girls," said Grace, as they left the gymnasium that afternoon, "I am sorry that Eleanor won't be peaceable. I wanted her to like every bit of our school life and thought she'd surely be interested in basketball. I suppose she will stay away from the game merely because we are on the team. It is really a shame for her to be so unreasonable."
"Grace Harlowe, are you ever going to stop mourning over Eleanor?" cried Miriam impatiently. "She doesn't deserve your regret and is too selfish to appreciate it. I know what I am talking about because I used to be just as ridiculous as she is, and knowing what you suffered through me, I can't bear to see you unhappy again over some one who is too trivial to be taken seriously."
"You're a dear, Miriam!" exclaimed Nora impulsively.
It was the first time that the once haughty Miriam had ever referred publicly to past shortcomings, although from the time she and Grace had settled their difficulties at the close of the sophomore year, she had been a changed girl.
"Where are Anne and Jessica to-day?" asked Eva Allen.
"Anne and Jessica have refused point blank to honor us with their presence during practice," announced Nora. "I asked Jessica to-day, and she said that they didn't want to know how we intended to play, for then they could wax enthusiastic and make a great deal more noise. It is their ambition to become loud and loyal fans."
"What a worthy ambition," said Marian Barber, with a giggle. "They are such noisy creatures already."
There was more laughing at this, as Anne and Jessica were by far the quietest members of the sorority.
"Remember, we practise to-morrow after school," called Grace as she separated from her team at her street.
As she walked slowly down the quiet street, deep in thought, her ear caught the sound of an approaching automobile, and she looked up just in time to see Eleanor drive by in her machine. Grace nodded to her, but her salutation met with a chilly stare.
"How childish she is," thought Grace. "I suppose she thinks that hurts me. Of course it isn't exactly pleasant, but I'm going to keep on speaking to her, just the same. I am not angry, even if she is; although I have far greater cause to be."
But before the close of the week Grace was destined to cross swords with Eleanor in earnest, and the toleration she had felt was swallowed up in righteous indignation.
During the winter, theatrical companies sometimes visited Oakdale for a week at a time, presenting, at popular prices, old worn-out plays and cheap melodramas. These companies gavedaily matinées as well as evening performances, and the more frivolous element of High School girls had in time past occasionally "skipped school" to spend the afternoon in the theatre. By the girls, this form of truancy was considered a "lark," but Miss Thompson did not look at the matter in the same light, and disciplined the culprit so severely whenever she found this to be the cause of an afternoon's absence that the girls were slow to offend in this respect.
All this Eleanor had heard, among other things, from Edna Wright, but had paid little attention to it when Edna had told her. Directly after cutting Grace Harlowe, she had turned her runabout into Main Street, where a billboard had caught her eye, displaying in glaring red and blue lettering the fact that the "Peerless Dramatic Company" would open a week's engagement in Oakdale with daily matinées.
Eleanor's eyes sparkled. She halted her machine, scanning curiously the list of plays on the billboard. "The Nihilist's Daughter" was scheduled for Thursday afternoon, and Eleanor decided to go. She wasn't afraid of Miss Thompson. Then, possessed with a sudden idea, she laughed gleefully. At last she had found a way to effectually annoy the principal.
Eleanor Savell and the seven girls who formed their sorority were the first to enter the study hall on Tuesday morning. As soon as a girl from any of the three lower classes appeared she was approached by some of the former and a great deal of whispering and subdued laughter went on. A few girls were seen to shake their heads dubiously, and a number of those termed "grinds" were not interviewed. The majority, however, appeared to be highly delighted over what they heard, one group standing near one of the windows, of which Eleanor was the center, laughed so loudly that they were sent to their seats.
Among the number to whom nothing was said were the members of the Phi Sigma Tau, and as the morning advanced they became fully aware that something unusual was in the wind. Several times they caught sight of a folded paper being stealthily passed from one desk to another, but as to its contents they had no idea, as it was not handed to any one of them.
At recess there was more grouping and whispering, and Grace was puzzled and not a littlehurt over the way in which she and her friends were ignored. Such a thing had not happened since the basketball trouble the previous year.
"Eleanor started that paper, whatever it is," said Nora O'Malley to the Phi Sigma Tau, who stood in a group around her desk. "She was here when I came in this morning, and I was early, too. It is some masterpiece of mischief on her part, or she wouldn't take the trouble to get here on time."
"Here comes Mabel," said Jessica. "Maybe she has seen the paper. Mabel, dear, did you see that paper that has been going the rounds this morning?"
Mabel nodded.
"What was written on it, Mabel?" asked Grace curiously.
Mabel looked distressed for a moment then she said, "I wish I might tell you all about it, but I gave my word of honor before I read it that I wouldn't mention the contents to any one."
"Then, of course, we won't ask you," said Anne Pierson quickly. "But tell us this much—is it about any of us?"
"No," replied Mabel. "It isn't. It is something I was asked to sign."
"And did you sign it?" asked Jessica.
"I certainly did not," responded Mabel. "Itwas——" she stopped, then flushed. She had been on the point of telling. "I am sorry I ever saw it," she continued. "I can't bear to have secrets and not tell you."
"That's all right, Mabel," said Marian Barber, patting her on the shoulder. "We don't want you to tell. If it doesn't concern us we don't care, do we, girls?"
"No, indeed," was the reply.
Just then the bell sounded and the girls returned to their seats with the riddle still unsolved. Nothing more was seen of the mysterious paper, and Grace came to the conclusion that it had been nothing important, after all.
On Wednesday, aside from a little more whispering and significant glances exchanged among the pupils, not a ripple disturbed the calm of the study hall. It was therefore a distinct and not altogether pleasant surprise when Miss Thompson walked into the room, dismissed the senior class and requested the three lower classes to remain in their seats.
After the seniors had quietly left the study hall, Miss Thompson stood gravely regarding the rows of girls before her. Her eyes wandered toward where Eleanor sat, looking bored and indifferent, and then she looked toward Grace, whose steady gray eyes were fixed on the principal's face with respectful attention.
"I don't believe Grace is guilty, at any rate," thought Miss Thompson; then she addressed the assembled girls.
"Something has come to my ears, girls," said the principal, "that I find hard to credit, but before you leave here this afternoon I must know who is innocent and who is guilty."
Miss Thompson paused and a number of girls stirred uneasily in their seats, while a few glanced quickly toward Eleanor, who was looking straight ahead, the picture of innocence.
"You all know," continued the principal, "that it is strictly forbidden for any pupil to absent herself from school for the purpose of attending a circus, matinée or any public performance of this nature. I have so severely disciplined pupils for this offence that for a long time no one has disobeyed me. I was, therefore, astonished to learn that a number of girls, regardless of rules, have taken matters into their own hands and have decided to absent themselves from school to-morrow in order to attend the matinée to be given in the theatre. Such a decision is worse than disobedience—it is lawlessness. Unless a severe example is made of the offenders, the standard of the school will be lowered. Therefore, I intend to sift this matter to the bottom and find out what mischievous influence prompted this act of insubordination.
"Report says that this movement originated in the junior class, and that a paper has been circulated and signed by certain pupils, who pledged themselves to play truant and attend the matinée to-morrow."
The eyes of Grace and her chums turned questioningly toward Mabel Allison, who nodded slightly in the affirmative.
So that was what all the whispering and mystery had meant. Grace inwardly congratulated herself on having kept clear of the whole thing. None of her friends were implicated, either. Even Mabel had refused to sign.
"I have dismissed the senior class, because I have been assured of their entire ignorance of the plot. What I insist upon knowing now, is who are the real culprits, beginning with the girl who originated the paper to the last one who signed it. I am going to put every girl on her honor, and I expect absolutely truthful answers. The girls who signed the paper I have mentioned will rise."
There was a moment of suspense, then Eleanor Savell proudly rose from her seat. Her example was followed, until two thirds of the girls present were standing. The principal stood silently regarding them with an expression of severity that was decidedly discomfitting.
"That will do," she said curtly, after theyhad stood for what seemed to them an age, but was really only a couple of minutes.
"You may be seated. The girl who composed and wrote that agreement will now rise and explain herself."
Without hesitating, Eleanor rose and regarded the principal with an insolent smile. "I wrote it, Miss Thompson," she said clearly. "I wrote it because I wished to. I am sorry you found out about it, because it has spoiled all our fun."
There was a gasp of horror at Eleanor's assertion. No one had ever before spoken so disrespectfully to their revered principal.
"Miss Savell," said the principal quietly, although her flashing eyes and set lips showed that she was very angry, "if you have that paper in your possession, bring it to me at once, and never answer me again as you did just now. You are both disrespectful and impertinent."
But Miss Thompson's anger toward Eleanor was nothing compared with the tempest that the principal had aroused in Eleanor. The latter flushed, then turned perfectly white with rage. Still standing, she reached down, picked up a book from her desk and took from it a paper. "This," she said, in a low tense voice, "is the paper you wish to see. I do not choose to let you see it, therefore I shall destroy it."
"I Do Not Choose to Let You See This Paper.""I Do Not Choose to Let You See This Paper."
Then she deliberately tore the offending paper into shreds and scattered them broadcast.
"I hope you understand that I am not afraid of you or any other teacher in this school," she continued. "I have never been punished in my life, therefore I am not liable to give you the first opportunity. I despise you, because you are a ridiculous prig, and I am glad of an opportunity to tell you so. As for the persons who told you about our plan, words cannot express my contempt for them, and right here I accuse Grace Harlowe and her sorority of getting the information from Mabel Allison yesterday and carrying it to you. They are all tale-bearers and sneaks."
With these words, Eleanor angrily flung the book she held on the desk and walked down the aisle toward the door, but Miss Thompson barred her way.
"Stop, Miss Savell," she commanded. "You shall not leave this room until you have apologized to the girls whom you have unjustly accused and to me. I will not tolerate such behavior."
Eleanor glared at the principal, whose face was rigid in its purpose, then sank into the nearest vacant seat, saying defiantly: "You may keep me here all night if you like, but, I meant what I said, and I shall retract nothing."
Nevertheless she did not again attempt to leave the room. She had met with a will stronger than her own and she realized it.
Ignoring Eleanor's final remark, Miss Thompson once more turned her attention to the matter in hand.
"Those girls who are not in any way implicated in this matter are dismissed," she said.
About one third of the girls arose and prepared to leave the study hall, the Phi Sigma Tau being among the number. Grace motioned the girls to hurry. She wished to leave the room with her friends before Miss Thompson noticed them. She knew the principal would insist on an apology from Eleanor, and neither she nor her friends wished it. For the first time since Eleanor had chosen to cut their acquaintance Grace was thoroughly angry with her. She could not forgive Eleanor for having accused her and her friends of carrying tales before almost the entire school; therefore a forced apology would not appease her wounded pride. She drew a breath of relief when the eight girls were safely outside the study hall door.
"Hurry up," she said. "We'll talk when we get outside school. Don't stop for a minute. If Miss Thompson notices that we are gone, she'll send after us."
The girls silently donned their wraps and fled from the building like fugitives from justice. Once on the street a lively confab ensued, all talking at once.
"Let's take turns talking," cried Grace, laughing. "We shall understand each other a little better."
"Now, what do you think of Miss Eleanor?" cried Nora. "She has certainly shown her true colors this time."
"I never heard of anything more unjust than the way she accused us, when we knew nothing about her old plan," said Marian Barber.
"It was abominable," said Eva Allen.
The other girls expressed their disapproval in equally frank terms.
"I suppose it did look as though I told you girls," said Mabel Allison, who had joined them at the gate. "You know I was with you at recess, right after the paper had been passed to me. I don't think Miss Savell intended me to see it. It was passed to me by mistake."
"Very likely," agreed Grace. "I wonder who did tell Miss Thompson. I saw several girls with the paper, but hadn't the remotest idea what it was all about. You know Miss Thompson is awfully down on 'skipping school.' She threatened last year to suspend Edna Wright for it."
"There will be weeping and wailing in the 'Skull and Crossbones' crowd,'" exclaimed Nora. "They are all in this mix-up, and if they aren't suspended, they'll be lucky."
"Are you going to stand up for Eleanor now, in the face of what she said about all of us before those girls, Grace?" asked Marian Barber hotly.
"No," said Grace shortly. "She deserves to be punished. The things she said to Miss Thompson were disgraceful, and I shall never forgive her for the way she spoke of us."
"I wouldn't say that, Grace," remarked Anne. "You can never tell what may happen to change your views."
"It will have to be something remarkable in this instance," replied Grace grimly, as she bade the girls good-bye. "Remember, girls, basketball practice again to-morrow, and the rest of the week. Miss Thompson has promised me the gymnasium. Please make it a point to be on hand."
"Good-bye, Grace," chorused her friends, and went on down the street discussing the probable fate of the would-be truants.
To return to those youthful transgressors. They were spending a most uncomfortable half hour with Miss Thompson. She was merciless inher denunciation of their conduct, and the terror of suspension arose in more than one mind, as they listened to her scathing remarks. It had all seemed a huge joke when they planned it, but there was nothing funny about it now. When, with the exception of Eleanor, the principal dismissed them, they filed decorously out, very uneasy in mind. Miss Thompson had taken their names, but had not stated their punishment and it was certain that they would be made to feel the full weight of her displeasure.
When the last girl had disappeared the principal turned to Eleanor. "I will listen to your apology, Miss Savell," she said coldly.
Eleanor looked scornfully at the principal, and was silent.
"Do you intend to obey me, Miss Savell?" asked Miss Thompson.
Still there was no answer.
"Very well," continued Miss Thompson. "Your silence indicates that you are still insubordinate. You may, therefore, choose between two things. You may apologize to me now, and to-morrow to the girls you have accused of treachery, or you may leave this school, not to return to it unless permitted to do so by the Board of Education."
Without a word Eleanor rose and walked haughtily out of the room.
When the four classes assembled Thursday morning, every girl, with the exception of Eleanor, was in her seat. Her absence created considerable comment, and it was a matter of speculation as to whether she had purposely absented herself or really had been suspended.
After conducting opening exercises, Miss Thompson pronounced sentence on the culprits. They were to forfeit their recess, library and all other privileges until the end of the term. They must turn in two themes every week of not less than six hundred words on certain subjects to be assigned to them. If, during this time, any one of them should be reported for a misdemeanor, they were to be suspended without delay.
Their penalty was far from light, but they had not been suspended, and so they resolved to endure it as best they might.
Grace Harlowe felt a load lifted from her mind when Miss Thompson publicly announced that she had not received any information from either Mabel Allison or the Phi Sigma Tau.
"Thank goodness, none of us were concerned in that affair," she told the members of her basketball team at recess. "There are two girls on the sophomore and three on the freshman team whose basketball ardor will have to cool until after the mid-year exams."
"You might know that some of those silly freshmen would get into trouble," said Nora scornfully.
"'Twas many and many a year ago,In an age beyond recall,That Nora, the freshman, lowly satAt one end of the study hall."
recited Anne Pierson in dramatic tones.
There was a burst of laughter from the girls at this effusion, in which Nora herself joined.
"What a delicate way of reminding me that I once was a freshman!" she exclaimed.
"Anne has a new accomplishment," said Grace. "She can spout poetry without trying."
"Small credit is due me," said Anne, smiling. "Anyone can twist 'Annabel Lee' to suit the occasion."
"By the way, Anne," said Grace, "as you are a poet, you must compose a basketball song to-day, and I'll see that the juniors all havecopies. It's time we had one. Let me see what would be a good tune?"
"'Rally Round the Flag,'" suggested Miriam Nesbit. "That has a dandy swing to it."
Grace hummed a few bars.
"The very thing," she exclaimed. "Now, Anne, get busy at once. You'd better sing the tune to yourself all the time you're writing it, then you'll be sure to put more dash and spirit into it."
"I wish the day of the game were here," said Jessica plaintively. "I have been practising a most encouraging howl. Hippy, David and Reddy have a new one, too. Reddy says it's 'marvelously extraordinary and appallingly great.'"
"I can imagine it to be all that and more if Hippy had anything to do with its origin," said Nora.
"Wasn't it nice of Miss Thompson to exonerate us publicly?" asked Anne.
"She is always just," replied Grace. "I can't understand how Eleanor could be so rude and disagreeable to her. She has disliked Miss Thompson from the first."
"I wonder whether she apologized to Miss Thompson last night," mused Grace.
"I feel sure that she didn't, and I am just as sure that she won't get back until she does."
"We shall manage to exist if she doesn't," said Jessica dryly. She felt a personal grudge against Eleanor for her accusation against Mabel, who had grown very dear to her and whom she mothered like a hen with one chicken.
"She'll probably appear at the game in all her glory," said Miriam Nesbit. "She can go to that, even though she is on bad terms with the school."
The recess bell cut short the conversation and the girls returned to their desks with far better ideas of the coming game than of the afternoon's lessons.
Saturday, December 12, dawned cold and clear, and the girls on both teams were in high spirits as they hustled into their respective locker-rooms and rapidly donned their gymnasium suits. The spectators had not yet begun to arrive, as it was still early, so the girls indulged in a little warming-up practice, did a few stunts and skipped about, overflowing with animal spirits.
Julia Crosby and Grace took turns sprinting around the gymnasium three times in succession, while Miriam Nesbit timed them, Grace finishing just two seconds ahead of Julia.
By a quarter of two the gallery was fairly well filled and by five minutes of two it was crowded. The juniors, with the exception ofEleanor Savell's faction, arrived in a body, gave the High School yell the moment they spied their team, and then burst forth with the basketball song, led by Ruth Deane, a tall junior, who stood up and beat time with both hands. Anne had composed the song the week before. The juniors had all received copies of the words and had learned them by heart. They now sang with the utmost glee, and came out particularly strong on the chorus, which ran:
"The juniors forever, hurrah, fans, hurrah!Our team is a winner, our captain's a star.And we'll drive the senior foe, from the basket every time.Shouting the war cry of the juniors."
There was a great clapping of hands from the admirers of the juniors at this effort, but the seniors promptly responded from the other end of the gallery to the tune of Dixie, with:
"The seniors are the real thing.Hurrah! Hurrah!Our gallant team now takes its stand,And all the baskets soon will land.We shout, we sing, the praises of the seniors."
Hardly had the last notes died away, when thereferee blew the whistle and the teams hustled to their positions. Grace and Julia Crosby faced each other, beamed amiably and shook hands, then stood vigilant, eyes on the ball that the referee balanced in her hands. Up it went, the whistle sounded and the two captains sprang straight for it. Grace captured it, however, and sent it flying toward Miriam, who was so carefully guarded that she dared not attempt to make the basket, and after a feint managed to throw it to Nora, who tried for the basket at long range and missed.
There was a general scramble for the ball, and for five minutes neither team scored; then Marian Barber dropped a neat field goal, and soon after Grace scored on a foul. The junior fans howled joyfully at the good work of their team. The seniors did not intend to allow them to score again in a hurry. They played such a close guarding game that, try as they might, the juniors made no headway. Then Julia Crosby scored on a field goal, making the score 3 to 2. This spurred the junior team on to greater effort, and Miriam made a brilliant throw to basket that brought forth an ovation from the gallery. This ended the first half, with the score 5 to 2 in favor of the juniors.
"They'll have to work to catch up with us now," said Nora O'Malley triumphantly to themembers of the team, who sat resting in the little side room off the gymnasium.
"We have the lead, but we can't afford to boast yet," replied Grace. "The seniors played a fine game last half, and they'll strain every nerve to pile up their score next half."
"We shall win," said Miriam Nesbit confidently. "I feel it in my bones."
"Let's hope that your bones are true prophets," laughed Marian Barber.
"O girls!" exclaimed Eva Allen from the open door, in which she had been standing looking up at the gallery. "Eleanor is here. She and her satellites are sitting away up on the back seat of the gallery."
"Where?" asked Nora, going to the door. "Oh, yes, I see her. She looks as haughty as ever. It's a wonder she'd condescend to come and watch her mortal enemies play."
"I suppose she hopes we'll lose," said Marian Barber. "That would fill her with joy."
"Then we'll see that she goes away in a gloomy frame of mind," said Nora, "for we're going to win, and don't you forget to remember it."
Just then the whistle blew, and there was a scramble for places. This time Julia Crosby won the toss-up, and followed it up with a field goal. Then the seniors scored twice on fouls,tying the score. The juniors set their teeth and waded in with all their might and main, setting a whirlwind pace that caused their fans to shout with wild enthusiasm and fairly dazed their opponents. Grace alone netted four foul goals, and the sensational playing of Nora and Miriam was a matter of wonder to the spectators, who conceded it to be the fastest, most brilliant half ever played by an Oakdale team. The game ended with the score 15 to 6 in favor of the juniors, whose loyal supporters swooped down upon them the moment the whistle blew and pranced about, whooping like savages.
"That was the greatest game I ever saw played under this roof," cried David, wringing Grace's hand, while Hippy hopped about, uttering little yelps of joy. Reddy circled about the victors almost too delighted for words. He was filled with profound admiration for them.
"The boys' crack team couldn't have played a better game," he said solemnly, and the girls knew that he could pay them no higher compliment, for this team was considered invincible by the High School boys.
"Perhaps we'll challenge you some day, Reddy," said Grace mischievously.
"I believe you'd win at that," he said so earnestly that every one laughed.
"It was a great triumph," said Jessicaproudly, as she stood with Mabel and Anne in the locker-room while the girls resumed street clothing. "And my new howl was a success, too."
"Glad to know that," said Grace. "There were so many different kinds of noises I couldn't distinguish it."
"There was one noise that started that was promptly hushed," said Anne. "You heard it, too, didn't you Jessica?"
"Oh, yes, girls, I intended telling you before this," replied Jessica. "Just before the last half started, Miss Thompson and Miss Kane came in and walked to the other end of the gallery. Well, Eleanor and her crowd saw them, and what do you suppose they did?"
"Hard to tell," said Nora.
"They hissed Miss Thompson. Very softly, you may be sure," continued Jessica, "but it was hissing, just the same. For a wonder, she didn't hear it, but every girl in the junior class did. They were sitting down front on the same side as Eleanor's crowd. You know what a temper Ruth Deane has and how ferocious she can look? Well, the minute she heard it she went back there like a flash, looking for all the world like a thunder cloud. She talked for a moment to Edna and Eleanor. They tossed their heads, but they didn't hiss any more."
"What did Ruth say to them?" asked Grace curiously. "It must have been something remarkable, or they wouldn't have subsided so suddenly."
"It was," giggled Jessica. "She told them that if they didn't stop it instantly, the juniors would pick them up bodily, carry them downstairs to the classroom and lock them in until the game was over."
"How absurd!" exclaimed Grace. "They would never have dared to go that far."
"I don't know about that," said Nora O'Malley. "Ruth Deane is a terror when she gets fairly started. Besides, she would have had both High Schools on her side. Even the boys like Miss Thompson."
"It was an effectual threat at any rate," said Jessica. "They left before the game was over. Perhaps they were afraid of being waylaid."
"I suppose they couldn't bear to see us win," said Grace. "But, O girls, I am so proud of our invincible team. It was a great game and a well-earned victory."
"We ought to celebrate," said Miriam. "Come on. Here we are at Stillman's."
Without waiting for a second invitation, the Phi Sigma Tau trooped joyfully into the drug store.
The days glided by rapidly. The Christmas holidays came, bringing with them the usual round of gayeties. Thanks to the Phi Sigma Tau, the lonely element of High School girls did not lack for good cheer. As at Thanksgiving, each member of the sorority entertained two or more girls on Christmas and New Year's, and were amply repaid for their good deed by the warm appreciation of their guests.
Tom Gray came down for the holidays, bringing with him his roommate, Arnold Evans, a fair-haired, blue-eyed young man of twenty, who proved himself thoroughly likable in every respect. He lost no time in cultivating Miriam's acquaintance, and the two soon became firm friends.
Tom gave a dinner to his roommate, inviting "the seven originals," as he expressed it, and Miriam, who felt that at last she really belonged in the charmed circle. David was even more pleased than his sister over the turn affairs had taken. To have Miriam a member of his own particular "crowd" had always been David'sdearest wish, and the advent of Arnold Evans had done away with Miriam being the odd one. So the circle was enlarged to ten young people, who managed to crowd the two weeks' vacation with all sorts of healthful pleasures.
There were coasting and sleighing parties, and on one occasion a walk to old Jean's hut in Upton Wood, where they were hospitably entertained by the old hunter, who had smilingly pointed to the wolf skins on the wall, asking them if they remembered the winter day two years before when those same skins held wolves who were far too lively for comfort. Then the story of their escape had to be gone over again for Arnold's benefit.
They had stayed until the moon came up, and, accompanied by the old hunter, had walked back to Oakdale in the moonlight.
After the holidays came the brief period of hard study before the dreaded mid-year examinations. Basketball enthusiasm declined rapidly and a remarkable devotion to study ensued that lasted until examinations began. By the last week in January, the ordeal was past.
Eleanor Savell had not yet returned to school. Whether or not she would be allowed to return was a question that occasioned a great deal of discussion among three lower classes of girls. Edna Wright and the other members of thesorority organized by Eleanor were loud in their expressions of disapproval as to Miss Thompson's "severity" toward Eleanor. They talked so freely about it, that it reached the principal's ears. She lost no time in sending for them, and after a session in the office, they emerged looking subdued and crestfallen; and after that it was noted that when in conversation with their schoolmates, they made no further allusion to Miss Thompson's methods of discipline.
There was a faint murmur ofsurprise aroundthe study hall one morning, however, when Miss Thompson walked in to conduct the opening exercises, accompanied by Eleanor, who, without looking at the school, seated herself at the desk nearest to where the principal stood.
When the morning exercises were concluded, Miss Thompson nodded slightly to Eleanor, who turned rather pale, then rose, and, facing the school, said in a clear voice:
"I wish to apologize to Miss Thompson for impertinence and insubordination. I also wish to publicly apologize to the members of the Phi Sigma Tau for having accused them of treachery concerning a certain matter that recently came up in this school."
"Your apology is accepted, Miss Savell. You may take your own seat," said the principal.
Without looking to the right or left, Eleanorwalked proudly up the aisle to her seat, followed by the gaze of those girls who could not refrain from watching her. The Phi Sigma Tau, to a member, sat with eyes straight to the front. They had no desire to increase Eleanor's discomfiture, for they realized what this public apology must have cost her, although they were all equally puzzled as to what had prompted her to humble herself.
Eleanor's apology was not due, however, to a change of heart. She still despised Miss Thompson as thoroughly as on the day that she had manifested her open scorn and dislike for the principal.
As for Grace and her friends, Eleanor was particularly bitter against them, and laid at their door a charge of which they were entirely innocent.
Eleanor had told her aunt nothing of her recent trouble in school, but had feigned illness as an excuse for remaining at home. After attending the basketball game her aunt had told her rather sharply that if she were able to attend basketball games, she was certainly able to continue her studies. Eleanor had agreed to return to school the following Monday, and had started from home at the usual time with no intention whatever of honoring the High School with her presence. She passed the morning in the various stores, lunched in town and went to a matinée in the afternoon. In this manner she idled the days away until the holiday vacation came, congratulating herself upon her success in pulling wool over the eyes of her long-suffering aunt.
But a day of reckoning was at hand, for just before the close of vacation Miss Thompson chanced to call at Mrs. Gray's home while Mrs. Gray was entertaining Miss Nevin, and the truth came out.
When Miss Nevin confronted her niece with the deception Eleanor had practised upon her, a stormy scene had followed, and Eleanor had accused Grace Harlowe of telling tales to Mrs. Gray, and Mrs. Gray of carrying them to her aunt. This had angered Miss Nevin to the extent that she had immediately ordered Eleanor to her room without telling her from whom she had received her information.
For three days Eleanor had remained in her room, refusing to speak to her aunt, who, at the end of that time, decreed that if she did not at once apologize roundly and return to school her violin and piano would both be taken from her until she should again become reasonable.
In the face of this new punishment, which was the severest penalty that could be imposed uponher, Eleanor remained obdurate. Her violin and piano were removed from her room and the piano in the drawing room was closed. Still she stubbornly held out, and it was not until the day before the beginning of the new term that she went to her aunt and coldly agreed to comply with her wishes, providing she might have her violin and piano once more.
Aside from this conversation they had exchanged no words, and Eleanor therefore entered school that morning still believing the Phi Sigma Tau to be at the bottom of her misfortune.
In spite of her recent assertion that she could not forgive Eleanor, Grace's resentment vanished at sight of her enemy's humiliation. A public apology was the last thing that either she or her friends desired. Her promise to Mrs. Gray loomed up before her. If Eleanor really did believe the Phi Sigma Tau innocent, then perhaps this would be the opportunity for reconciliation. After a little thought, she tore a sheet of paper from her notebook and wrote: