“That was because you were hit by that log or whatever it was.”
“Just the same, I would have drowned, like anybody that couldn’t swim, if it hadn’t been for her. Here they come. Now for the tug of war!”
But in this last half of the game the senior collegiates had no trouble, apparently, in walking off with the honors. Anticipating a close struggle, they made a great effort to hold the ball, and did brilliant playing when it came to baskets, receiving enthusiastic applause. This rather discouraged the younger seniors, who were tired and beginning to feel the excitement. For them, everything seemed to go wrong, as it sometimes does. When they had the ball, somebody would fumble, or the interference kept them from accomplishing anything. The game closed with a good score in favor of the senior collegiates. But they joined with the audience in giving the senior academy yell, and heartily returned the generous congratulations, which the losing team offered them, with many a warm statement about how good a game they had played.
Lilian, Eloise and several others of the guitar and mandolin club had brought their instruments to help lead the singing of Greycliff songs at the beginning of the tournament or contest, and now escorted the winning team home with much strumming and singing. Just before entering the solemn doors of Greycliff Hall, the players lined up and gave the senior yell with great spirit:
“Seniors ’rah! Seniors ’rah! ’Rah-rah, Seniors Col-le-gi-ate!”
CHAPTER VI
THE RUSTLING OF WINGS
“No Ice Carnival, girls,” mourned Betty. “Of course we’ll not have any with just those infants at Grant Academy this year.”
“All the more time for other things, then,” said Eloise. “It will be warm before we know it. I have so many things to do, that if I stopped to count them up I would have to leave school in self defense! There is doing our ‘bit’ with the knitting and everything right along, of course, and I want to have time for canoeing and the other athletics this spring. Hilary, I am going to have as long a bird list as you, or perish in the attempt! Isabel, our canoe is going to beat in the senior-junior race.”
“Is it?” inquired Isabel in a tone which implied doubt. “Try it.”
Isabel was taking a butterfly pin out of a tiny box. She was the secretary and treasurer of the Psyche Club, and had ordered this pin for Betty, who had lost hers several months before. Not a whole year, her senior year, could she do without her butterfly pin, which stood for so much of Greycliff happiness and delightful friendship.