CHAPTER XXV--TO THE VICTORS
"Whoopee! Red Head! My ankle is as good as new, and I am going to be inthe big game. Now let the Breslins beware!"
"Are you sure, Judith, it is entirely well? You know ankles have a wayof kinking up unexpectedly," Jane warned.
"To tell the truth, Janey, I have been petting it a bit. I have notbeen sick since I had the mumps, and it was adorable to have the girlsholding my hands, and looking into my eyes. I really think it is a lotnicer to have a 'busted' ankle than two trustworthy pedals. Except, ofcourse, when we have the Breslins to whitewash. Then, I like to take ashot at the fun."
"You are an incorrigible fraud, Judy, but I am glad to have you with usto-day. I may not look it, but I am very human, almost to the point ofbeing stage struck before a crowd. Now, when I jump there in center Irather feel as if I am going up to the gallery, and I want to stay andwatch the game, from a point of vantage. But, I'll follow the ball anddo my best," with an appropriate sigh.
"We are not worried about your nerves, Jane. You may have a set, butthey are beautifully padded--as the health books require. Just look atthat" (bending Jane's arm up muscle tight). "Why, I believe you couldtake up boxing, and make a wonderful record at the biff, bang, biff.Think I would like that sport myself," and without warning, Judithundertook a "biff, bang, biff" that sent things flying about the room.
"Now sit down like a nice little girl and I will tell you the mostdelectable news," coaxed Jane. "I have had an interview with theWeatherbee!"
"Oh, lovely! Who's going to be expelled?"
"Not quite that bad. But rather serious, Judy, I won't keep you ontenderhooks. Dolorez Vincez is a professional woman athlete! She taughtat Blindwood!"
"She did! She did!" and Judith fairly exhaled surprise. "The detestablething! To come down on us like that, and try to bamboosle us out of thegame! Oh, now I know why I suddenly developed a liking for boxing," andout went the windmill arms again.
"Be serious, Judith! Mrs. Weatherbee advised me to talk to you----"
"Mrs. Weatherbee is a brilliant woman----"
"All right, Judith," with an injured air. "If I must talk through awall of nonsense, I may as well desist."
"Oh, Janey, dear, I am all ears. I want to know every last word. Howdid the Weatherbee find her out?"
Jane reviewed the case as she had received the information, andpresently the athletic phase being disposed of, she reached the beautyparlor episode. Judith gasped, and all but gagged during the recital ofthis exciting news. Her exclamations apropos of the possibilities inhair changes knew no bounds, as the freshmen might say, and when it wasfinally brought out that Dolorez' hair had undergone the operation of achange from black to yellow, and back again via peroxide R.R. Judithturned a well-balanced somersault, to prove there was absolutelynothing further the matter with her ankle.
"I saw one of the pledge cards," Judith recalled, when Jane remarked itwas queer so much could have been planned without the facts reachingthe ears of herself or Judith. "I saw a typewritten page, and I guessedfrom the errors that Marian had something to do with it. She cannottype any more than she can knit."
"And here is where you come in Judy. You and I are to do all we can toundo that canvass," referring to the work of Dolorez in solicitingcustomers for the beauty parlor. "You see, some of the new girls maythink it perfectly all right to do as they see fit with their ownmoney, in their own time, and outside of school grounds. They do notknow the penalty of commercializing the college. Now, we will have towork quietly, and wisely. We must make it known in some way, that thefaculty will not allow any of the girls to frequent that shop. Ofcourse, when the promoters find that out, likely they will pull upstakes and not open up the beauty parlor."
"Then I cannot be made over! Oh, Jane! Be kind! Think what I shallmiss. All my life I have dreamed of waking up red headed, and now, justwhen the possibility creeps to my pillow----"
"Judy Stearns, come into the gym and work that off. I see no other helpfor such a condition as that you are suffering from. We will never beatthe Breslins, while your mind wanders to beauty regions. Come along. Iam going to limber you up myself," and thus ended the chums'conference.
A few hours later, with Team One in the place of honor on the best carwithin commandeering distance, it seemed all Wellington was on the roadto Breslin.
It was late in November, and the afternoon was perfect in its riotousbeauty. Enough wind, plenty of sunshine, a cyclone of late oak leaves,and crisp, dry frosty air!
In the same picture, carloads of happy, healthy girls, cheering andyelling their class and college cries, laughing and singingintermittently to the tune of chugging motors.
Rooting for Wellington all the way over the hills, and then through thewinding roads out to the second school for girls, Breslin, there tomeet and presumably vanquish the lusty foe at basketball.
"We approach the conflict with optimism," said Jane grandly, at therisk of a buffeting shower of "whacks" for attempting anything as vagueas mere optimism.
Always a red letter day at Wellington, the meeting with the Breslins onthis particular occasion possessed the additional interest of being thedeciding game in a school championship.
"I saw the great, big, strong right forward of the Breslin to-day,Jane," Drusilla Landers remarked apprehensively, "and I fear we have areal foe to fight in her muscle and stride. She is so tall, and solong, and so----"
"She would have to be something else besides tall and long to outdo ourwindmill," said Jane, referring to Drusilla's particular arm sweep. "Iam counting on your arms to toss that ball into the basket more timesthan the Breslins can count."
"Oh, woe is me! I may wave--not too near a face, or I may wag not toonear a line, but to shoot baskets with my windmills--Jane dear, help meout and make it dribbles. I adore dribbles." Drusilla was now bouncingup and down with the auto motion, "doing the short hills" in the famouson high record of the well-tried Wellington seven passenger.
"Our chauffeur, one Thomas, has little regard for basketballconditions," Judith remarked. "Just then he registered a bumper on mypet ankle."
"But Tom is out to get there," Jane insisted. "He knows we play atthree thirty, and I have promised he can see the game."
"What! A man see us play!" screamed Clarisse Bradley.
"Pray why not?" asked Jane. "Are we not good enough players?"
"Oh, yes, but----"
"But the bloomers, and things, eh, Clare?" joked Norma Travers. "To myoverstrained mind, it seems really pathetic that we can or have to callin the very chauffeur to view the exhibition--I mean the game," shecorrected archly.
"Yes, indeed. I think we should have a real public game, with everyoneinvited," Jane declared. "Here we are! Now everyone must take care ofher own traps. We don't want the Breslins criticising our personaldeportment, or our practical application of domestic science."
Tumbling out of the cars the Wellingtons and their guests were met andwelcomed by the Breslins at the great gate, with its inviting archleading into the beautiful grounds surrounding the exclusive school,variously designated as seminary and college.
That a conflict was imminent between the guests and their hosts seemeddifficult to realize, such giggling, chattering and such volumes ofsounds, without words, as were charged and surcharged, through theatmosphere.
"Some day our psychologists will investigate the mysteries of schoolgirl noise," predicted Mrs. Weatherbee to Miss Rutledge, "and I expectthe finding will be of immense interest to those who have to listen tothe noise and keep out of the fun."
"All here?" called Jane.
"Here! here!" came the response. Then the choristers, or glee club, orcheering squad, any of which would have denied the accusation, took upthat old nonsense:
"We're here, because we're here, because we hate to go away: Oh, Breslin fine, and Wellington, get ready for the fray!"
"A wonderful picture," commented the local scribe, a promising youngwoman, who did the press work for the schools, and
incidentally gaineda broader education outside, than was allowed inside the big stonewalls.
"Yes, I like the big red ties," assisted Miss Talmadge, to whom thepress girl had attached herself. Isobel Talmadge knew everybody, andalways said things good enough to print.
"And the hunters' green of our girls," said Constance Lipton loyally,"makes such a refreshing change from the inevitable blue or khaki. Ithink our girls' suits practically attractive."
That also was sure to get in the paper.
"And have you noticed, Miss Nevins," Dorothy Blyden ventured, "what apretty contrast the Gray Bees make?" The Gray Bees were the Breslins,of course, and good little Dorothy felt obliged to see that somethingnice be said about them.
"A pretty gym," the scribe condescended to note. "My, how prettily thecolors are blended! I suppose every class in both schools isrepresented in those flags and pennants?"
"Yes, we sent ours over," confessed Constance. "We knew we would have abig audience! Here they come. Now for the cheering squad!"
The formalities of cheers inspired the teams to such activity as only acall to arms might be hoped to accomplish. Every girl glowed withinterest and enthusiasm as they lined up, tossing up the ball, gettingacquainted with it, as they usually did before a game, and making useof the same opportunity to get acquainted with the personnel of theteams. Each girl made double use of every moment, until the whistleblew.
As the game started, interest compelled the closest attention. Thefirst half occupying twenty minutes of time, was played off withoutanything more startling than a couple of disastrous fumbles being madeby each side. Every one hated to see the ball thus "abused," such skillas was demanded by the promised excellence of both teams seemed toindicate the very cleanest, cleverest play.
"They are just warming up," Constance told Miss Nevins adroitly. Itwould never do to have fumbles reported in the _Bugle_.
"Oh, yes. All the more exciting when they get warmed up," came theencouraging reply, following a "note" scribbled on the reporter's pad.
The second half was entered upon with renewed enthusiasm. Spectatorsleaned forward in their places, and very little conversation broke thespell of eager watching.
"Watch Judith!" Miss Cooper of Wellington remarked to a Breslin fan.
"You mean the standing center?"
"Yes; can't she throw?"
"But I am interested in the jumping center. She can do all kinds ofthings."
"I am wondering why she does not do anything in particular," came thewhisper. "She is one of our stars--Miss Allen."
"Oh, of course. I know Jane. And don't you see what she is doing? Sheis putting out the very finest line of team play I have ever witnessed.You just watch."
At the moment on the floor Jane was passing that ball with such skill,it never seemed to remain in her own hands long enough for any sort ofplay. All she did was pass it on. That was perfect team play, but itmade very little impression on the spectators.
The game was now tied. Then the ball flew outside the lines. Breslin'sjumping center recovered it and glanced over the situation for thefraction of a second. Her side center was too well guarded to send itto her; with a skilful toss, she aimed for the forward, who grabbed it.
"Now for the basket!" whispered the hopeful Breslins.
"Oh, Jane!" almost prayed the Wellington fans, as the ball was thrownback to center by the confused forward who was unable to pass it to herpartner under the basket.
In the center Jane was surrounding her opponent like a veritable troop.The Bee was confused. Moments were counting, and she still held on tothe ball.
"One--two and----" rang out in the gym.
Then she tried to throw, but Jane was everywhere. The confusion wasobvious, even to the onlookers.
"Oh, for that count!" wailed someone.
"Throw it!" yelled the captain to the confused Bee. She raised the ballas if to comply, then with an astonishing fumble, the ball slipped androlled to Jane's feet. Quick as a flash Jane was after it. Then thedribble, and Jane took one bounce, and with one toss of the ball to herforward under the basket, the ball went home to a goal! And the goalwas made for Wellington!
"Oh! Oh! ho! ho! Rah! Rah! Rah Wellington! Center! Center! Rah! Rah! Rah!"
The cyclone broke. That strategy on Jane's part won a victory for whichshe would have been more content to have had any other of the team,than herself, strike the decisive blow.
"You did it. We knew you would. Good old Jane."
"Can't lose her!"
"Brains tell!"
Came the almost indistinguishable tumult of sound.
"Sheer luck," Jane insisted.
"Luck!" mocked Judith. "Even luck knows where to light. Jane, if welost I should have drowned myself. I have bet away a whole week'sstamps and fudge, and goodness knows what all. But we won, and I mayopen up shop again. Just look over there at Marian. Have her friendsall deserted her?"
"Oh, call her in," suggested Jane. "It's a shame, here in a strangeschool."
"Not little Judy," replied the other. "I may take a chance on bettingfudge against Breslins, but I would not be so rash as to take a chanceon anything like that. Oh, there she goes with our reporter! What ifshe gives any news of the Barn Swifts?"
"Oh, she wouldn't!" but Jane's voice sounded apprehensive.
"Well, if she does, we will simply--that is, we certainly will,"stuttered Judith, too overcome to talk coherently. She was waving herarms and indicating dire calamity on Marian's unfortunate head.
"Still, Judy, we should have kept track of that nice little reporter.It would be perfectly awful if Marian gave her any news about Helen'shidden talent."
"Oh, Jane, I am absolutely sure she will do just that. I never beforesaw her so abject to a mere business woman. By the way, dear, where isHelen?"
"Oh, didn't I tell you? Mrs. Weatherbee asked me if we would not allagree to leave the child pretty much alone for a few days. She thoughtit would be so much better for her nerves, not to be talked to. Iagreed with her, as I have found Helen absolutely impossible lately.She will not come out, and she just sits and hugs her letters."
"Does she ever show you any of her letters, Jane?"
"No," faltering. "But why should she?"
"Why should she not? Now, there, I didn't mean a thing, but we have notyet heard the story of that magic card, you know. What was on thatcard, Jane?"
"Judy, you little nuisance," and Jane smiled in mockery. "As if I couldtell you anything about that now! Run along, and tell the girls tospread the news about our big dance next Wednesday evening. Remember,it is given in honor of the Breslins."