“It looks stuffy to me,” Sally complained. “I never shot indoors and I don’t think I’m going to like it.”
Janet eyed the arrangements critically.
“Oh, well, it will have the same effect on everybody,” she said. “And seriously, Sally, you know we haven’t a chance. There are loads of girls up for election.”
“I know and we’re only Sophs,” Sally agreed. “Still I can’t give up hope.”
“But Sally, there are only ten to be chosen, six regulars and four subs,” Janet reminded her. “Why, we haven’t a chance. There’s always next year though, and the blessed year after. You’ll be captain of sports then.”
“I will not, you will be. I decided that ages ago. Phil is to be president of the Dramatics, and Daphne of the class.”
Janet eyed her affectionately. “And what are you going to be when you have disposed of the rest of us?”
“Oh, guide, philosopher and friend to you all,” Sally laughed. “Then I can have my finger in every pie.”
“That’s the way our four does things anyway,” Janet laughed. They always spoke of themselves as “our four” since Daphne had happily thought of the name. The rest of the girls, old and young, looked on in approval. A school is apt to be proud of its close friendships.
Ann, Prue and Gladys, in imitation, called themselves “We and Co.,” and the school smiled and approved again.