"All right. Come on. We haven't much time left. How many minutes, Jerry?"
"Eight," replied the stout girl. "Can Irma and Connie and I come, too?"
"No. I'd rather you wouldn't."
"We'll forgive you. Now beat it." Although Jerry was earnestly endeavoring to eliminate slang from her vocabulary, she could not resist this forceful advice.
"Suppose we go around through the corridor and use that side door nearest Mignon's dressing room," suggested Marjorie. "Then we won't be noticed. I'd rather we weren't. This is really private, you know."
Four black and scarlet figures gloomily followed their leader. There were two doors to each dressing room. One led into the gymnasium, which was situated in a wing of the school, the other led into the corridor. Through the half-open door of Mignon's dressing room the sound of exultant voices reached the advancing squad. She stood with her back toward them.
"We were a little too much for them." Mignon's boasting tones brought fresh resentment to her injured opponents. "I told you that——"
"Miss La Salle!" Marjorie's stern voice caused the French girl to whirl about. "We heard what you were saying. We came over here to notify you that we do not intend to play the second half of the game with you unless you give us your promise to play fairly and without unnecessary roughness."
Mignon's black eyes blazed. "What do you mean by stealing into our room and listening to our private conversation?" she demanded passionately.
Marjorie faced the furious girl with calm, contemptuous eyes. Before their steady gaze, Mignon quailed a trifle.