So the excitement was great when Miss Burleigh walked into the gymnasium on the Saturday before the display, and called for silence so that she might read out the order of the competition. Even the younger children forced themselves into a kind of uneasy order, as Hurly-Burly unfolded her sheet of foolscap paper; for the next few minutes would practically decide, they thought, who was to be the lucky one among the juniors.
‘First of all,’ announced the games-mistress, ‘the whole gymnastic class will open the display by an exhibition of step-marching.’ This was received with average interest, for it sounded like one of the ordinary gymnastic lessons, and had nothing to do with the competition. Miss Burleigh waited for the murmur of comments to subside, and went on. ‘Then the thirty-two girls chosen to compete for the prize will separate into two divisions; and the senior division, led by Margaret Hulme, will perform the following exercises:–’
Miss Burleigh paused again, but there were no comments this time.
‘First, wand exercises by the whole senior division; then a display on the horizontal bar, to be followed by one on the vaulting-horse,–competitors to choose between the bar and the horse,–and the whole to conclude with high jump. After tea, I will show you the exercises chosen for competition, and will help you to divide yourselves into sections.’
The buzz of remarks from the senior division lasted almost long enough to shake the loyalty of the younger children to the head girl; and they cast many reproachful glances towards the further end of the gymnasium, where Margaret formed the centre of an eager, chattering group. Then Hurly-Burly took pity on them and called for silence again, and the juniors had their chance at last.
‘The junior division, led by Charlotte Bigley, will go through the following exercises:–’ began Miss Burleigh. She did not mean to pause here, but a storm of remonstrance from the junior division drowned her next words.
‘Did you ever!’ cried the shrill voice of Angela Wilkins, who, with Jean and Barbara, sat perched on the top of the vaulting-horse.
‘Why doesn’t Jean lead?’ added Babs, indignantly.
‘I say, please don’t! I’m not nearly so good as you are,’ contradicted Jean, in a faint tone that lacked conviction.
‘Can’t you be quiet, you three?’ grumbled Mary Wells, who had a prejudice against the triumvirate, founded on many injuries. ‘As if anybody could lead better than Charlotte! The impudence of some kids––’