“Your turn, Sally,” Gladys said. “You’ve got Louise’s twelve to beat.”
Sally groaned, but when she took her place, her wonderful blue eyes blazed from their setting of raven hair.
Four arrows sped through the air in quick succession. Sally did everything with a rush. The girls counted the total.
“Eleven,” Phyllis groaned.
“If the next one is wide of the target——” Gladys did not finish the terrible thought.
They looked at Sally. She didn’t look a bit flustered, but for some reason or other, she was taking her time.
Then she did a curious thing, but a thing so like Sally that neither the girls nor the faculty could repress a smile.
She suddenly closed her eyes very tight, and without taking aim, let go of her arrow.
“Aunt Jane’s Poll-parrot!” Gladys whispered, as though she were praying the mythical bird to carry the arrow safe to the target.
Daphne put her hands over her eyes, and didn’t take them down until the shout that rose high and clear told her that Sally’s blind shot had found its way home.