"I'm so sorry, girls—go right on—don't wait—"
"Plucky girl," said a man's voice. "It's a shame!"
The freshmen looked very blue; the team stood about in groups; the sophomores waited politely at one side. Martha went over to Grace and held her hand out: "I'm terribly sorry," she said earnestly, "it's too bad. They say your Subs are very good, though."
Grace nodded, and ran over to the coaches, who walked aside with her for a moment, talking earnestly. Presently they came over to the platform and the Centre nudged Theodora enviously. "Go on!" she whispered. "Grace wants you!"
Theodora gasped. "Not me—not me!" she objected feebly. "Me—guard—Martha Sutton!"
"Go on!" said somebody, and they pushed her out.
"Come on, Theodora—hurry up, now!"
The people seemed to swim before her; for one dreadful moment she longed for her home as she had never longed before. Her knees shook and the clapping of the class sounded faraway. With her eyes on the floor she moved out; halfway to the centre Virginia Wheeler stepped to meet her and put her arm over Theodora's shoulder.
"Don't be scared, Theo," she said, "don't be scared, but help us out—heaven knows we need it!"
"Watch Martha—don't take your eyes off her!" whispered the coach as she handed the lemon to the new Guard.