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Page 18
It was maddening.
The score stood 7 to in favor of the juniors. Miriam Nesbit had the ball
now, and was trying to throw it. She stood near the junior basket. Eluding
her guard, who was dancing about in front of her, she made a wild throw.
Whether by accident or design it was hard to tell, but the ball landed
squarely in the junior basket. A whoop went up from the gallery. The
whistle blew and the first half was over. The score stood 9 to in favor of
the enemy. The last two points had been presented to the juniors.
Up in the gallery discussion ran rife. The admirers of the juniors were
loud in their praise of the superior ability of the team. The junior
class, who were sitting in a body at one end of the gallery, grew
especially noisy, and were laughing derisively at the downfall of the
sophomores.
Miss Thompson was puzzled.
"I cannot imagine what ails my sophomores," she said to the teacher next
to her. "I understood that they were such fine players. Yet they don't
seem to be able to hold their own. It looks as though their defeat were
inevitable, unless they do some remarkable playing during the next half."
Mrs. Harlowe, too, was disappointed. She wondered why Grace had boasted so
much of her team.
"After all, they are little more than children," she thought. "Those
juniors seem older to me."
As for Grace and her team--they were sitting in a room just off the
gymnasium gloomily discussing the situation. Tears of mortification stood
in Nora's eyes, while Grace was putting forth every effort to appear calm.
She knew that if she showed the least sign of faltering all would be lost.
Her players must feel that she still had faith in their ability to win.
"We are not beaten yet, girls," she said, "and I believe we shall make up
in the last half what we lost in the first. Work fast, but keep your wits
about you. Don't give the referee any chance to call a foul, we can't
spare a minute from now on. When I give the signal for a certain play, be
on the alert, and please, please don't any of you present those juniors
with any more points. I'm not blaming you, Miriam, for I know that last
throw of yours was an accident, but I could have cried when that ball went
into the basket."
Miriam's face flushed; then realizing that all eyes were turned toward
her, she said sarcastically:
"Really, Miss Harlowe, it's so kind of you to look at it in that light.
However, anyone with common sense would have known without being told that
I never intended that ball for the juniors."
"I am not so sure of that," muttered Nora, who, seeing the hurt look that
crept into Grace's eyes at Miriam's words, immediately rose in behalf of
her captain.
Miriam whirled on Nora.
"What did you say?" asked Miriam angrily.
Before Nora could answer the whistle blew. Intermission was over and the
second half was on. The teams changed baskets and stood in readiness for
work. Once more Grace and Julia Crosby faced each other. There was a
malicious gleam in Julia's eye and a look of determination in Grace's.
With a spring, Grace caught the ball as it descended and threw it to Nora,
who, eluding her guard, tossed it to Miriam. With unerring aim Miriam sent
the ball into the basket and the sophomores scored for the first time.
Their friends in the gallery applauded vigorously and began to take heart,
but their joy was short-lived, for as the play proceeded the sophomores
steadily lost what little ground they had gained. Try as they might, they
could make no headway. Grace called for play after play, only to find that
in some inexplicable way the enemy seemed to know just what she meant, and
acted accordingly.
The game neared its close and the sophomores fought with the desperation
of the doomed. They knew that they could not win save by a miracle, but
they resolved to die hard. The ball was in Miriam's hands and she made a
feint at throwing it to Nora, but whirled and threw it to Grace, who,
divining her intention, ran forward to receive it. There was a rush on the
part of the juniors. Julia Crosby, crossing in front of Grace, managed
slyly to thrust one foot forward. Grace tripped and fell to the floor,
twisting one leg under her. The ball rolled on, and was caught by the
enemy, who threw it to goal just as the whistle sounded for the last time.
The juniors had won. The score stood 17 to 2 in their favor. The scorer
attempted to announce it, but her voice was lost in the noisy yells of the
junior class in the gallery.
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