"Which I hope and pray they are not," Lois added, fervently.
They started at ten-thirty, after a little delay caused by Fanny forgetting her gym shoes, and Betty her favorite hair ribbon. The school gave them a hearty send-off, cheering the carryall as far as the gate.
They arrived at Whitehead in time for luncheon.
"They don't seem awfully cheerful here," Polly said, when she and Lois were alone for a minute. "I wonder what's the matter?"
"Doris Bates, you know, the girl who plays forward, told me she had a terrible sore throat," Lois replied. "Perhaps she's given it to the rest."
"I have an idea they'll use their subs," Polly said. "If they do—" She let Lois finish the remainder of the sentence for herself.
The game began at two o'clock. The Whitehead gymnasium was a big, high ceilinged room with small windows. It was really a converted barn. The light was so poor that on winter afternoons they had always to use the big arc lamps that were incased in wire, and hung at either end of the room. There was no gallery for the spectators. They sat around in groups wherever they could find a place. Some of them were so near the lines that Polly felt sure she would run into them and, hardest drawback of all, the floor was slippery. The school used the gym for all their entertainments and it had been waxed not a week before.
Polly took in all these disadvantages at once and realized their probable effect on her team.
"Don't lose your nerve or your head," she said, cautioning them before the game started. "The lights are a bother, but try not to pay any attention to them. If you hit them, never mind. Be careful of the floor, and if you want to go after a ball, let the girls on the side lines look out for you."
"I do wish they'd move back," Fanny said, almost tearfully. "They might just as well be following you around, holding your hand? They're so close I declare I can hear them breathing."