“It’s a secret, Taffy, but I’ll tell you,” she whispered. “That last one was a mistake.”
“Good luck, Jan!” Sally called softly, as Janet went out to take her place. Her silence seemed to envelope her as she stood facing the target, and the bow felt strange to her touch.
She had practiced a good deal during the past few weeks, but mindful of her brother Tom and the wisdom of her boy friends, she had rested for the past two days, content only to keep her hand in. In this she had the advantage of the Red Twins, who had practiced for two hours, before breakfast.
She felt as though she were taking a very long time, as she strung her bow, and fitted her first arrow, and then she shot.
She had aimed for the bulls-eye, but the grass under her feet, worn by so many tennis shoes, was slippery. Her heel twisted ever so slightly, and the arrow scored a red.
The girls shouted their appreciation, but before they could stop, another arrow had hit this time, just below the bulls-eye, making one above, and one below. Janet shifted her position ever so slightly, and a third arrow almost touched the bulls-eye on another side.
The fourth completed the square; then Janet did the most spectacular thing, done that afternoon. She scored a perfect bulls-eye. The school, united in its admiration, went wild with joy, and the old man, sitting beside Miss Hull, shouted, “Well done, little lady, well done!”
Then Janet did the most spectacular thing done that afternoon
Janet was born high on the shoulders of the delighted girls, a happy, triumphant, but very much bewildered heroine.