"Right you are," said Prue, jumping down from the chair on which she was standing. "Fire away."
"I don't want to say much—just two or three words," replied Monica modestly, then lowering her voice she added in grave tones: "Has it ever occurred to you what is the real object of the seniors?"
Her audience stared at Monica in perplexity.
"No. What do you mean?" from Prue.
"Well, being a senior myself," Monica continued solemnly, "I naturally hear more about their point of view than you girls in lower forms. I think they are working with the idea of making netball entirely subsidiary to hockey—just a form of exercise for the very youngest girls in the school—or even to abolish it altogether. They intend to make hockey the winter game of the school, and everybody above, say, the Second Form will be compelled to play it."
The netballites looked at each other in horror. Prue shook with indignation. "I shouldn't be surprised in the least if you are right," she declared. "All the more reason why we should do something to show we are not going to be put down so easily. Can anyone suggest a plan?"
No one could, though all agreed emphatically—if vaguely—that something ought to be done. After a short silence a few tentative suggestions were put forward, but rejected as not being suitable or feasible. Finally the meeting came to an end with the resolution that another should be called in a day or two's time to see if fresh ideas were forthcoming—the members to rack their brains well in the meanwhile.
Prue left the room arm-in-arm with her chief friend, lively Meggie Mellows. Monica caught them up outside, laying her hand on Prue's shoulder.
"I say, Prue, I have an idea. Would you like to hear it?"
Prue nodded eagerly.