But there was little opportunity to explain. As had been predicted, the game was a fast one. The sophomores had the advantage at the first and scored several times. Then the juniors succeeded in keeping the sophomores from scoring, put up a clever defense of their own, carried the ball with bewildering speed from one to another and passed the score of the sophomores with their own. The sophomores came back with a series of successful plays after disaster temporarily visited the juniors; and Kathryn covered herself with glory by making the long shot, for which she had been practicing, and saved the day in a bad situation which had occurred. Advantage now on this side and now on that, the first two quarters ended with an equal score.
“If we can do that, Betty,” whispered Kathryn, “we stand a good chance to beat.”
But Betty was too engrossed to heed. Miss Fox was talking to Mathilde, who was answering loudly. The referee was called to the conference. Then Miss Fox came to Betty, who was watching. “I—we—are taking Mathilde out, Betty. She is not guilty of any foul, but we think that she purposely lost an advantage. I’m not going to risk it. Put in Mary Emma Howland for the rest of the game. If the juniors beat us they want to do it fairly.”
Mary Emma was only too glad to play. The other girls wondered a little, but the game was too engrossing, when again they were in the midst of it, to care who was playing. Betty gave Mary Emma a few instructions, but Mary Emma was one of the best on the second team and had been hoping for a chance to play the Championship game. Mathilde was very angry, as Betty could see. She came up to Betty and said, “You put Foxy up to that, I know!”
“I didn’t even see what you did, or didn’t do, Mathilde,” replied Betty, but she turned away. It would not do to get into a discussion now.
Again the contest waxed hard and fast, each side to put the ball through their own basket, each side to keep the other from doing the like. It took quick thinking and quick action and keeping the rules. Betty had an opportunity at showing what she could do in scoring, getting away from her guard and making two beautiful “shots” from unfavorable angles. The juniors felt that it would be a disgrace to let the sophomores beat the contest and began to grow excited. Betty never was more cool within, though physically she was warm from the action. It wouldn’t be so terrible to be beaten by juniors—but oh, how good to beat them—even Marcella, who was playing a good game.
But personal relations were forgotten on the floor. Marcella was kept from sending the ball through the junior basket and Mary Emma starred as guard in that occasion. The quarters,—the halves—passed, and the pistol shot rang out for the close of the game with the score even.
No one was satisfied, of course, but many were the compliments for the playing of both teams. Few fouls, clean playing, fast playing, enough baskets, the comments declared. “It’s so stupid when nobody can score,” said one. “These girls managed to do it some way in spite of good interference.”
Twenty-five to twenty-five the score stood, said Marcella caught up with Betty as they went back to the girls’ gym to change costumes again. “The idea that you beat us, Betty,” said Marcella with a smile. “I just declared that you never would!”
“Why, we didn’t beat you!” cried Betty.