“We beat the Invincibles.”
“Let’s think up another plan.”
“Only it must be an entirely different kind.”
“Well, ask Montana Marie. She fixed things up before.”
So did public sentiment crystallize, and Montana Marie found herself once more waited upon by a deputation of leading spirits.
“Well, what do you want now?” she demanded gaily. “A way to beat those horrid sophs? But I never have ideas like that. Ask Fluffy Dutton—oh, she’s on their side. The other plan wasn’t my idea, was it? I just had the general idea of rattling the Invincibles. Couldn’t we rattle the squad? Oh, you don’t want to repeat yourselves. Then I should think you’d be willing to be beaten. If you win, you repeat.”
Montana Marie lapsed into meditative silence, watching the discussion as it wavered to and fro among her guests. But at the first pause she broke into speech again.
“Can’t you jump and run and so on?” she demanded of a sleek, sweet-faced, pink-and-white little girl named Amelia Pease.
Amelia shook her head, smiling gently. “No, of course not. I can’t do anything in gym. I guess you weren’t in my division.”
Montana Marie considered, frowning abstractedly. “No, I wasn’t—oh, I know now! It was a girl named Pease in Miss Mallon’s Select School pour les Americaines. She looked like you, too, only she had freckles and you’re all peaches and cream.”