Every one but Queenie clapped approvingly; she sat silent, lost in remorse. Then suddenly realizing that her attitude might be noticed, she added her applause to the rest.
But when the party met to pay their proposed visit to the children’s ward, Marjorie found, to her amazement and dismay, that Queenie Brazier was not among them. Nor could any member of the troop explain the cause of her absence.
CHAPTER XX.
THE CHAMPIONSHIP.
Although Marjorie had been disappointed in Queenie’s failure to participate in the troop’s visit to the hospital, she was not deeply concerned. Of all the girls in the patrol she had shown the least interest in the event; from the beginning she had tried to discourage it. Her doll had been the most carelessly dressed in the exhibition, and she had left almost immediately after the affair itself was over. But Marjorie felt so sure of Queenie that this indifference scarcely troubled her; it was enough to find the others so enthusiastic. Moreover she had not the slightest doubt that Sam MacDonald had passed out of Queenie’s life, so she dismissed the matter from her mind, believing that her absence had been due to a whim. After all she could not be expected to go in for everything.
She wished, however, that she might hear from her before Saturday—the night of the big basket-ball game that was to decide the League championship. She wanted every one of her players to be on hand, in trim for her position, and she was counting on Queenie to jump center. It would be a wonderful honor for her troop if the team would win; it would give them a standing among the other troops in the city that no other one act could accomplish so quickly; it would go a long way in establishing them for next year. But Marjorie was well aware that victory was very doubtful; like themselves, Troop One Sixty-one had beaten every team that they had met thus far in the League, but in almost every instance by a greater advantage. She had watched some of their games, and had admired the dexterity of their players. Her one hope lay in Jack’s ability as a coach; he, too, had observed them keenly, and had trained his own team to cope with their tactics.
Marjorie herself would have been glad to play on the team if she had felt that she was needed. But during the last few weeks, she had experienced an increasing sense of fatigue, a decided reduction in energy. Always, she remembered, she had felt a certain weariness of both mind and body as the spring holiday approached, but this year she noticed it to a marked degree. John had perceived it, and had urged her not to play on the team if any one else were available; Lily had remarked about it, even to the extent of begging her to take a week-end off and go home. But she had steadfastly refused to let down; she was confident that she could stick it out to the end.
The evening of the game arrived, and she drove into the city with Lily. Both girls were keyed to the highest pitch of excitement and anticipation.
“I wish you wouldn’t even take your basketball suit,” Lily remarked, as they stepped into the car. “Because if your team is losing, you may be tempted to play.”
“I shall leave it entirely up to Jack,” her companion replied. “If he advises me to play, I’ll do it.”