“It’s not fair to the kid if you girls don’t give her a chance to win.” Leslie Cairns’ shaggy eyebrows met in a ferocious scowl. “Don’t be stingy. You won enough games last year. Have a heart!”
“Honestly, Les, you talk like an idiot!” exclaimed Natalie Weyman impatiently. “You have a crush, and no mistake, on that little Elster simpleton. I don’t care whether you like what I say or not. You think she is a scream because she behaves more like a jockey than a student. I think she is so silly. You will get tired of her swaggering ways before long. See if you don’t.”
“She’s a game little kid, and I like her,” flung back Leslie with belligerent emphasis. “Why did you put me to all the trouble to fix things so that she could make the team if you didn’t intend to give her a showing. That cost me time and money.” Her voice rose harshly on the last words.
“Shh!” Dulcie Vale held up a warning finger. “You are almost shouting, Les. Lower your voice.”
“I should say so.” Natalie Weyman’s face was a disagreeable study. Before the arrival of Lola Elster at Hamilton, she and Leslie had been intimate friends. Now Leslie had in a measure deserted her for the bold little freshman she so detested.
“Beg your pardon.” Leslie’s tones dropped back to their usual drawl. “Sorry you girls have decided you must break the record tomorrow. Why so strenuous? You haven’t Beauty and her gang to fight. They haven’t had even a look-in. I hear they are really players, too. The trouble with you, Nat, is you are two-faced. You pretended that you were anxious for Lola to make the team because you thought she would make a fine record for herself on the floor. You said her pals ought to be on the team, too. So they are, the three of them. I worked that. Now you didn’t say that you wanted these three freshmen on the team so as to keep those Sanford upstarts off. I caught that, too, and fixed it. I didn’t mind. I can’t see them. What you wanted was a crowd of freshmen your team could whip easily.”
“That is absolutely ridiculous and unkind in you, Leslie!” Natalie’s face was scarlet. “How could I possibly know beforehand just how well the freshmen we—that is—you——” Natalie stammered, then stopped.
Leslie Cairns’ upper lip drew back in a sneering smile. “How could you know? Well, you dragged them over to the gym and set them at work with the ball. This was before the try-out. What? You took good care not to ask me along that day. Joan is as deep in it as you are. Then you came back puffing about what wonderful players these kids were and so forth. Would I fix it for them. I did. The day of the try-out I was pretty sore. You can’t fool me on a basket ball. They are not much more than scrubs; except Lola. She is O. K. I saw you and Joan had put one over on me, but it was too late to make a fuss. Think I don’t know you, Nat? Ah, but I do!”
Natalie sat biting her lip, her eyes narrowed. She was well aware that Leslie knew her traitorous disposition. For selfish reasons she did not wish to quarrel with her.
“All right, Leslie,” she shrugged. “Have it your own way. Go on thinking that, if it will be any satisfaction to you. You must remember we have our own end to hold up as sophomores. Why, if we tried to favor Lola during the game, it would be noticed and we would have trouble over it. Ever since that Beauty contest, I’ve noticed a difference in the way I am treated. I used to be It on the campus. I’ve lost ground, somehow. We Sans have worked too hard for first place here to give way now. We must keep up our popularity or be at the dictation of the common herd. Our team simply has to make good tomorrow.”