Breathless and delighted with victory, Betty after distinguishing herself in brave help and rescue at an important juncture, talked it all over with Carolyn and Kathryn. “Oh, you girls are simply marvelous, the way you pass to each other!”
“Yes, and the way you got on to everything just as if you had been playing with, us all along!”
“I have, in spirit,” laughed Betty. “I’ve seen every game and noted every thing you did.”
Carolyn and Kathryn were forwards and had, indeed worked up a “system” as they declared to Betty, but that amounted only to an almost instinctive knowledge of each other’s probable action under the rules and suggestions of their coach. “Now if we just had you for captain,” laughed Carolyn, “we could play the whole game without anybody else! Don’t tell Gwen I said that, though. She’s great.”
“Wouldn’t that make an interesting game,” said Betty, “three on the floor!”
But Carolyn said that she was a true prophet when Gwen Penrose, senior captain, before the championship game came down with the prevalent and disgustingly childish disease. The ranks were decimated indeed and the other class was rejoicing. The other girls on the senior team were worried. They were all needed in their own particular duties. No one wanted to take the responsibility of being captain. Then with one accord, coach and girls decided that Betty could do it, and Betty, hesitatingly, said that she would try.
“You led a team to victory once, Betty—just do it again,” urged Kathryn.
“It’s a risk, girls, but then, somebody’s got to do it—only it should be one of the original second team.”
“The best ones are down with mumps, too, Betty, and it looks as if the fates have elected you to do the job.”
“Well,” Mickey Carlin told a sophomore boy, “if Betty Lee is captain of the senior team, it’s goodnight for your girls. She’s president of the G. A. A. anyhow, and seems to have a gift for leadership and any sort of athletics. But the mumps seems to be the seniors’ Waterloo. If Betty gets it, you may have hope.”