Prue at the last moment had decided not to enter.
“Why swell the number of the old wing failures?” she said to Gwen, and Gwen nodded, fully conscious of the sacrifice she was making; and to repay her for it, she made her official score-keeper.
The twins, with Sally and Daphne, and Gladys and Ann, formed a little group with her around the board.
“Prue, if I make a score, will you please write it very large?” Phyllis requested. “I don’t expect to make more than one, and it would be a comfort really to see it.”
“I’m as nervous as a cat,” Sally shivered. “I have a horrible feeling that the old wing is going to lose.”
“Oh, don’t even breathe it!” Gladys wailed. “The very idea makes me turn cold all over.”
“My hands are icy,” Ann held them out for inspection. They were beautiful hands, firm and capable, but they trembled ever so slightly.
Gwen and Poppy joined them.
“I declare you all look like picked chickens,” Poppy protested, “I never saw the old wing hang its head so low.”
The girls straightened up, every chin lifted with determination.