“Then we might as well lie down and die!” the younger girl informed her. “We’d have about as much chance as a Ford against a Rolls Royce. They’ve been playing together two or three years, and beat every team they play!”
This piece of news was received with a groan from the members of the troop. Queenie, however, was still undaunted.
“Now we know who we got a beat!” she said, with the same assurance. “How ’bout an extra practice a week, Miss Wilkinson?”
“I’m afraid Miss Andrews and I couldn’t come, much as we should like to,” answered Marjorie, regretfully. “And as yet there aren’t enough girls to get along without us. Maybe later——”
The appearance of two freckle-faced girls, dressed exactly alike, and accompanied by a dapper young man put an abrupt end to the discussion.
“Here comes the twins!” announced Queenie, dashing out of her seat. “And darned if they haven’t got a feller!”
All eyes turned upon the young man, who blushed painfully.
“You ought a be ashamed to rob the cradle——” Queenie began, mockingly, when a sharp pinch from one of the twins stopped her.
“He ain’t with us, Queenie—so shut up!” she whispered perfectly audibly.
“Oh, beg your pardon,” the patrol leader faltered, humbly.