“No, it’s too good to be true,” sighed Lois. “Don’t let’s think about it. But I say those ‘sofs’ are terrible. Well, I’m going to dress; so long!” And she disappeared into her room.
“Betty, has a Freshman ever been on the sub team before?” Polly inquired.
“Never in my time,” answered Betty. “But, then, never, no, never was there such a set of impossibles as the ‘sofs,’ nor was there ever such a bully center to be found in the Freshman class.” This with a meaning glance at Polly, who had managed
to get the ball after the toss-up a remarkable number of times that day.
“Bet, you’re crazy; why, I’m only a new girl. Lois would be first choice and you second.”
“You may be a new girl, but don’t forget the paper chase,” said Betty. “But you’re right about Lo; she is wonderful. She’s all over the place at once and she keeps her head. But as for me—no, I haven’t a chance.”
“Why, Betty, you’re splendid at making baskets.”
“What good does that do me when I can’t keep inside those darn lines? No, it’s Lo or you; the rest of us haven’t a chance.”
“Chance for what?” inquired Lois, poking her head out of her room. “Are you two still gabbing? You’ll both be late for study hour.” And giving each girl a violent push, she brought an end to the conversation.
The choosing of the big team on Tuesday was just about what every one had expected. There were four Seniors and two Juniors; most of them had been substitutes the year before. Louise Preston had already been elected captain.