“Well, I fancy that means a victory for us, eh, Miss Harriet?” he asked. “There’s only one more event, isn’t there?”
“Yes, the mile run,” answered Harry breathlessly. “And—oh, where’s my pencil? Quick! Thank you. Oh, dear! We’ve got to get at least five points or Hammond will win yet! We must get first place or second and third! Oh, I don’t believe we can ever do it! There’s only Dick and Chase; the others aren’t any good at all! Dick! Dick! You’ve got to win!”
“Well, from what I’ve heard of him, I think he’s quite likely to,” said Mr. Kearney smilingly.
“He hasn’t been doing very well, though,” grieved Harry. “You see, he’s had so much to think about and attend to! I don’t see how it could be a tie, but if it should—would—do we get the money?”
“I’d have to think about that,” answered Mr. Kearney gravely. “You recollect that the terms called for a victory.”
“Oh, I know! But wouldn’t it be awful if we lost the dormitory by half a point?”
“I suppose it would,” said he, looking smilingly at her pale face. “Well, I won’t promise, Miss Harriet, but maybe in that case I might give something, say a thousand or two. How would that do?”
“It—it would be better than nothing,” answered Harry without enthusiasm. “Oh, I do wish they’d hurry!”
“It is a bit uncomfortable, this suspense. We ought to call this race the Dormitory Stakes, eh?”