Ellen Seymour walked up and down the row of girls with the air of a general. She was shrewdly calculating the best plan of action. It would hardly be fair to try out the black and scarlet girls against the grays, leaving the other ten of lesser experience to play against each other. Among the new girls there was, undoubtedly, some excellent material which contact with the regular players was sure to bring out. She, therefore, chose five blues to play against two grays and three black and scarlet girls. Mignon and Daisy Griggs represented the grays, Marjorie, Susan and Harriet Delaney the black and scarlet.
Clearing the floor of the others, Ellen signaled the two teams to their places and soon had the ball in play. It seemed very strange to Marjorie to find herself once more on the same team with Mignon La Salle. She was too busy attending to her own affairs, however, to give it more than a passing thought. Centering her whole mind on her work she played with her usual snap and brilliancy.
After twenty minutes’ energetic work, the warning whistle sounded retreat. Then the other ten girls remaining were ordered to the floor to show what they could do. When, after the same allowance of time, they had been called off, the three judges went into consultation with the result that ten names were struck from the list Ellen held. These names Ellen read out, expressing a regret for the failure of their owners to make good that was in a measure quite consoling. They left the floor to their more fortunate sisters apparently with the best possible grace, considering the disappointment that was theirs.
There were still left Susan, Muriel, Marjorie, Mignon, Daisy Griggs and Anne Easton of the seasoned teams. The other were four of the blue-clad girls who had done surprisingly well. These ten were again divided into opposing fives and went at it with a will.
T-r-ill! Ellen’s whistle at last called an end to the spirited fray. The girls pattered off the playing floor. Grouped together they breathlessly awaited the verdict.
This time it was longer in coming. Up on the judge’s stand, Ellen Seymour found herself participating in the wrangle with Charlotte Horner, which she had anticipated. But Marjorie was not alone subject of it. It was Mignon’s basket ball future, too, that now tottered. Four names had been struck off the list of ten. It lay between Mignon and Marjorie Dean as to whom the fifth should be.
“Mignon is a better player than this Dean girl,” sharply argued Charlotte Horner. “But poor Mignon simply wasn’t up to her usual form to-day.”
“But it’s to-day that counts, else why have a try-out?” protested Ellen. “Marjorie has completely outplayed her in this last test. I consider Marjorie the better player at any time. She is reliable. Mignon isn’t. I insist that Marjorie shall have the position. I think she’s the best player of the whole team.”
“And I insist that Mignon must have it.” In her anger Charlotte forgot her usual languid drawl.
“It rests with Leila.” Ellen shrugged her shoulders. “What is your opinion, Leila?”