“Clean basketball, remember, girls,” said Hilary earnestly to her team, as they stretched flat on the floor to rest between halves. “Don’t lose your heads and we’ll beat ’em yet. Team work is the thing, Ethel’s lost her head already and is mad. Look out for some mean tricks. But they won’t do any good. We’ve got a keen referee, all rightee, and she sees everything. Did you see how she caught up Ethel that time? My, she was sharp! I’d hate to be spoken to like that!”
The last half was close and fast. The Juniors took their Captain’s advice and played eagerly, but with judgment. Juliet and Pauline seemed inspired. Pauline, guarding the Senior captain, jumped up before her and catching the ball before the surprised Senior realized what had happened, sent it flying to Hilary, who once more tossed it in the Junior basket. Two or three of the Seniors lost their temper. Several fouls worked to the advantage of the Juniors again. The score rose in favor of the Juniors and the game ended with a score of 12 to 8 in their favor.
The victory was hard won but highly satisfactory,—to the Juniors! Hilary, flushed and tired, but happy, received congratulations, The Juniors with songs and cheers gathered around the team which had won them glory. Cathalina radiated joy as much for Hilary’s sake as for the honor of her class. “You certainly can play basketball, Hilary,” said Isabel, slapping Hilary on the shoulder as a boy might have done. “Now do your level best and maybe we can beat the Senior Collegiates!”
Hilary shook her head doubtfully, but answered with a bright smile, “We’ll play so the Prep classes won’t be ashamed of us anyway!”
But alas for the hopes of prepdom! No team had ever beaten this Senior Collegiate team on its way through Greycliff, and history was repeated when the last games took place a week later. To the joy of the Academy classes, however, the game between “Junior A” and “Senior C” was a close one. Both teams were in fine training and exhibited a spirit of fair play; but the upper class bore off the honors.
“I surely would have been mortified if those Preps had beaten us, and, honestly, once I was almost afraid of it!” Thus spoke the exhausted but victorious captain, who lay stretched on the floor to recover after the game. One girl was being rubbed with camphor, another was applying arnica to a big bump and a third was having a sprain investigated, while Miss Randolph, with contracted brow, came over to join the gymnasium teacher and see what were the injuries of her athletes.
To a few of her teachers Miss Randolph relieved her feelings as they all walked back to Greycliff Hall, picking their way carefully over the ice and snow that had formed or fallen too rapidly for removal from the walks.
“I do not and never shall approve of these competitive games before the whole school! Practice games are well enough, but the girls get so excited that they will ‘do or die,’ as one of their ridiculous songs says!” Miss Randolph’s laugh almost belied the severity of her remarks.
“‘Vitamque volunt pro laude pacisci,’” quoted the classic Dr. Carver, whose blood seldom warmed over athletics of any sort.
“That is their spirit,” assented Miss Randolph. “I’m always afraid of some calamity, but so far we have escaped. I feel responsible for the girls. However, none of them are allowed to go into anything without the consent of their parents.”