“Indeed I did.”
“Good for you,” chuckled Carolyn. “You like athletics, don’t you?”
“Very much–when some one else does it.”
“But you wouldn’t have time,” suggested Carolyn. This was the Miss Heath whom all the girls liked so much, girls of any rank from freshmen to seniors. She was always fair, though you had to work for her. No “getting by” with poorly prepared lessons.
“No,” assented the adorable Miss Heath, “I’d have no time, not even for setting up exercises.” She looked at her teacher friend, a lady from the rival school, and laughed. “What do you think, Carolyn, would it be polite for me to sing with you our school songs or do any rooting for Lyon High when my friend from our rivals’ school is sitting right by me? By the way, Miss March, this is Carolyn Gwynne, one of our freshmen. You know the Gwynne place, out on Marsden Road?”
“Oh, yes, quite well. How do you do, Carolyn. I think I have met you at your home. I belong to a club that met there last year.”
Carolyn said the appropriate remarks in reply and was fortunately not obliged to decide what was the polite course for Miss Heath to follow. So far as she was concerned, no scruples would have prevented her enthusiasm for Lyon High, for the good reason that Carolyn forgot everything but the game when the contest was on.
Peggy, and Betty, too, third in order from the teachers, leaned around Carolyn to bow in friendly and respectful fashion, but at once they gave their attention to the crowd and the field. On the track a few runners were practicing, their costume looking very cool for the chilly fall breezes. A few boys were standing about on the field or central “gridiron.”
Betty filled her lungs with the fresh air that was not blowing too sharply. She was accustomed to the curving concrete that rose high behind her and stretched to right and left, to the field before her and to the gymnastic or athletic performances that had seemed so queer at first because of the larger numbers and the better equipment. By this time, too, she knew the team, its best members and what they were likely to do, though in the confusion of the game it was sometimes hard for her to recognize a play.
As the game was with a city school today, there were as many or almost as many rooters for the visiting team as Lyon High itself could offer. As the seats filled rapidly, competition between rooters began. Rival bands with tooting horns and rolling drums made a dramatic appearance, paraded, and finally took position. Rival yell leaders led rival cheer, though Lyon High, trained by its athletic director to good sportsmanship, gave a complimentary yell or two for its guests, using their own battle cries or merely giving hearty rah-rahs for the rival school and team.