Edna Carson, who went in next, obviously meant to continue Peggie's policy of keeping her end up and letting Joan do the scoring. She stolidly blocked everything that came her way, to the great disgust of Janet, who was evidently thirsting for her wicket, and was sending down some astonishingly good balls. But with swift balls, even if only blocked, you can often steal a run, and as the Templeton fielding was not nearly so good as St. Cyprian's, Edna frequently managed to make a single, and thus give Joan the opportunity of which she was not slow to avail herself. Gradually the score increased until fifty went up amid much rejoicing. At this point Edna, who had never seemed at her ease, though she had been batting freely for nearly half an hour, gave Janet her revenge by returning an easy catch. Grace Ashworth was the next bat, but did not stay long, being clean bowled by Janet Armstrong; and a similar fate befell Winifred Barbour, without adding to the score. Just as Sophy Manners, the next player, was coming out of the pavilion, Joan heard the neighbouring clock chime the first quarter. "A quarter-past four," she thought complacently, but moving a few paces from the pitch, she took a glance at the clock to make sure. To her horror and dismay the hands pointed to a quarter-past five!
"Hit out for all you're worth!" she whispered to Sophy as she came up. "Thirty to win, and only a quarter of an hour to make them in!"
Sophy, who was both bold and handy with the bat, and, as the girls all declared, "simply had no nerves", was nothing loath to take this advice, and for the next few minutes both she and Joan were scoring merrily. Sixty for six—that did not look so bad; but only nine minutes remained, and twenty runs were wanted to win. Joan glances uneasily at the clock, and hits out harder than ever.
But the bowlers still keep a good length, and runs are coming more slowly; for Joan knows that if either of the present wickets falls she has no one left to rely upon in an emergency like this, so she plays with more caution, only lashing out when opportunity offers. Seventy goes up, with only four minutes left! Sophy gets one round to leg for three, and a moment later has one to the boundary for four. Three runs wanted to win, and Joan has the bowling. She sends one to the on for two. Now for the winning hit, and only a minute to make it in! Marjorie Rawlins artfully sends down the ball a trifle slower and shorter pitched than before. St. Cyprian's hold their breath. A moment later they are gasping in agony, for Joan has misjudged the ball, and up it goes like a rocket between cover-point and bowler.
Both girls make a dash for it, but realizing the imminence of a collision, each suddenly stops short, thinking it is the other's catch, and the ball drops harmlessly between them, just as Joan arrives at the other end with the run to her credit, and the match won for St. Cyprian's by four wickets.
CHAPTER IX
The Students' Concert
The time was drawing very near now for Herr Hoffmann's Students' Concert, and whenever Mildred thought about it her heart descended somewhere into the region of her boots. The Professor had been giving her lessons at his own house in addition to those she took at St. Cyprian's, and with the one exception of the day of the cricket match, she had attended every Saturday afternoon at the Philharmonic Hall to practise the "Frühlingslied" with the students' orchestra. For the first time in her life she was really working hard, and sometimes she almost astonished herself at the progress she made. Technical difficulties, which before had seemed impossibilities, smoothed themselves away, and her supple fingers began to acquire a new mastery over her instrument. That she needed all her best efforts she knew well. The fear lest she should fail in her piece haunted her like a bad dream. The Professor was not easy to satisfy. His ideal was so high that she continually fell short of it, and in spite of incessant practising and extra music lessons, so hard seemed the task which she was attempting that she sometimes felt inclined to fling down her violin in despair, and give up the concert altogether.