"Yes," responded Grace, "it is. But when that insufferable Julia Crosby poked Professor Cole's permit under my nose, I felt like taking her by the shoulders and shaking her. What those juniors need is a good, sound thrashing. That being utterly out of the question, the only thing to do is to whitewash them at basketball."
"Three cheers for the valiant sophomores!" cried Nora, "On to victory! Down with juniors!"
The cheers were given with a will, and by common consent the crowd of girls moved on down the corridor that led to the locker room.
The sophomore locker room was the particular rendezvous of that class in general. Here matters of state were discussed, class gossip retailed, and class friendships cemented. It was in reality a sort of clubroom, and dear to the heart of every girl in the class. To the girls in their present state of mind it seemed the only place to go. They seated themselves on the benches and Grace took the floor.
"Attention, fellow citizens and basketball artists," she called. "Do you solemnly promise to exert yourselves to the utmost to repay the juniors for this afternoon's work?"
"We do," was the answer.
"And will you pledge your sacred honor to whip the juniors, no matter what happens!"
"We will," responded the girls.
"Anne!" called Grace. "You and Jessica are not players, but you can pledge your loyalty to the team anyhow. I want you to be in this, too. Hold up your right hands."
"We will be loyal," said both girls, holding up their right hands, laughing meanwhile at Grace's serious expression.