Carslake's hockey challenge certainly did cause a sensation in the school. Some girls treated it with ridicule, a few were angry, all agreed that it was awful cheek on the part of the much-despised Carslake's. The challenge was accepted, however, with the firm resolution that the challengers should be punished for their cheek by such a beating as had never yet been seen on the school playing-fields. Carslake's tried to assume a careless, confident, nonchalant air, but the only one of them who really succeeded was their head prefect and that because the pose was a natural one. Inwardly they were all quaking at their temerity, even such bold spirits as Kitty and Peggy O'Nell, and looking forward to the match with feelings of apprehension.
Duane, with an undue amount of deliberation, had drawn up her team. "I've put Bertha and Edith in their usual positions at right back and goal," she explained. "Kitty, I want you to be the other back. Halves—Margaret, myself, Mary. Forwards, wings—France and Peggy. Yes, France, you must play, and what's more you'll have to run as you've never run in your life before, not even on Sports Day."
"I'll do it," said France heroically, "for the honour of the house. Even if it means dropping dead half-way through the match."
"Dropping dead! Rubbish!" returned Duane, with unusual energy for her. "Daisy, you must take centre-forward. I'll help you all I can. Inners—Barbara and Rosalie. That's the best we can do, I think!"
The match was fixed for Wednesday, and the Carslake girls practised diligently in their team positions whenever they had the chance. Kitty enjoyed these practices immensely and played left-back with great vigour—perhaps, sometimes, with more vigour than skill. Duane's attitude towards these practices amused her very much. She did not play herself, but, wrapped in her coat with its high fur collar, stood by the side of the ground, leaning gracefully upon her stick and giving advice and criticism on the play by means of a remarkable flow of cutting remarks, directed chiefly against the forwards and halves. According to her, they were slow and hesitating, they used neither their sticks nor their feet properly, their shooting was miserably feeble and their passing most inaccurate.
At any rate, Kitty reflected, Duane certainly seemed to know all there was to know about the theoretical side of hockey. She also seemed to have the knack of surprising everyone by pulling off the most unexpected things, in an almost accidental kind of way. Kitty was astonished that she did not feel so much annoyed and irritated—as she certainly would have done three months ago—as quietly amused. She put it down to the fact that she was getting used to Duane and her ways.
She found that Bertha was quite a reliable partner to have at right back; she was sturdily built, and, if inclined to be a trifle slow against quick forwards, she stuck to them like a leech. She was a queer, reserved girl with little to say for herself; Kitty divined that there was a certain streak of sullen obstinacy in her character.
The day of the match came at last. Everybody seemed unusually restless during afternoon lessons, and as soon as dismissal bell rang there was a general stampede for the playing-fields.
The Carslake eleven gathered in a little group inside one room in the pavilion. "Oh dear," sighed Peggy, "I feel most frightfully squirmy inside. For mercy's sake, Edie, don't let any shots through."
"Can't help it sometimes," mumbled Edie, wriggling nervously.