“It wasn’t all because he was a Beta Sig,” Bobs protested, warmly. “But, other things being equal, any fellow’d give the preference to his own fraternity. Quis would, himself. Why, the Beta Sigs ran the team like tyrants, last year, and this time we thought the Elks might have a turn. ’Tisn’t right, though. I’ve been sorry, ever since, that I didn’t put Quis on, but I can’t help it, now. It’s too late.”
Jacquette listened unmoved. “You could do it if you wanted to. I know you could,” was all she said, as she hurried off to her class.
They had been standing by the door of an apparently empty recitation room, but, as they turned away, the small, dark face of Clarence Mullen peered at them curiously from the doorway. He had been putting some work on the blackboard, just inside the room, and had heard every word.
Long before two o’clock, the next afternoon, twenty Sigma Pi girls, in gala attire, were seated in the front row of the grand stand, waiting for the championship game to begin. Just behind them sat their rivals, the Kappa Deltas, while less important sororities—each a clan by itself—were scattered through the crowd as near to the front as they could find places. It was Marston against the Daniel Webster High School, and the contest would be the closest of the season.
Gradually the seats filled until the stand where the Marston pupils sat, and the other on the opposite side of the field, which was reserved for students from Webster High, were both packed.
At last a gate at the end of the field swung open, and the Webster team came trotting out. Like one body, every person on the Webster grand stand was on his feet, and black and red banners fluttered out from end to end of that mass of people, while boys and girls together yelled:
“Webster! High!
Hi! Yi.
Sky! High!