Polly felt that she had not really earned the cup when it was presented to her at the close of the game.
The score was twenty-seven to nothing in their favor.
"It's too bad your team are all laid up," she said to the other captain. "I'm sorry; I know that we would never have made such a score if you'd all been well."
The other girl smiled. "Why you won it fairly," she said. "We played a miserable game. A few colds shouldn't have made all that difference. I don't know what happened to us."
"Well, you'll have a chance for revenge next year," Polly answered with a parting nod.
The return of the team lacked something of its triumphal spirit. There is never the same feeling of exhilaration over an easily won struggle that there is over a hard fought one. And though the rest of the girls welcomed the return of the cup, there was a general feeling of sympathy for the other team, rather than enthusiastic praise for their own.
Polly and Betty were still puzzling over the whole thing two days later in the study hall, when Lois joined them and solved the mystery.
"I have an awful sore throat. What do you suppose is the matter with me? I don't feel like doing a thing," she said.
"Better go and see Miss King," Polly advised. "You look sort of tired and sick."
"I think I will," Lois said.