ONCE MORE BASKETBALL
“Father, do you care if I’m on the squad, you know, in basketball?”
asked Betty at breakfast one morning shortly after the Valentine party.
She had not heard from Larry and was beginning to think it all a dream.
It hadn’t happened!
“I’ll not be on the regular team, you understand, and I’m not likely to
be called into the games at all, but the inter-class games are on now
and the sophomores are _too_ good, and, bless you, the little freshmen
are amounting to a real menace!”
“A _menace_! That will never do,” said Mr. Lee.
“Hurray for the sophomores,” said Dick.
“I hope we beat you,” laughed Doris, “though it will be a sort of
disgrace if this senior class doesn’t win. It’s always been good in
athletics.”
“I am glad to see that you can look on both sides, Doris,” said Mrs.
Lee.
“Oh, don’t give me credit for wanting Betty’s class to beat, Mother. I’d
_love_ to see the sophomores win!”
“It is a good thing Betty is going to the university next year,” laughed
Mr. Lee.
“Oh—am I? I’m glad to hear it’s decided, Father,” spoke Betty. “I did
want to go away, but I don’t now.”
“What has changed you?” quickly asked Doris. “Is it Ted’s or Chet’s
being there?”
“Doris,” rebuked Mrs. Lee, who thought her daughter too pert in manner
and her question too personal.
But Betty replied to her sister, “So far as I know, either may be going
away. I understand that both of them expected to sample some other
school, for the experience. But when they once start in here they get to
liking it and make their friends and all. I think talking to Marcella
Waite and her friends influenced me.”
Betty knew that Doris would not think of Larry in this connection.
Returning to the discussion on basketball, Betty told her father that
one of the girls on the team was just down with mumps and another had a
bad ankle. Her father asked her if she wanted to risk getting one, too,
but Betty said that her playing was not likely and anyway no worse than
the practice games that she was doing now a _little_.
“I was throwing the ball into baskets in the gym yesterday, Father, and
they just begged me to help out, or be where I could legitimately be
called on. Carolyn and Kathryn were both after me. And, Father, I’m not
going to do a thing in the university but get my lessons, take music and
swim!”
“Very well, then. I suppose you must. Vale. _Cura ut valeas_.”
This was her father’s frequent way of telling them, in the language of
Cicero’s Letters, to take care of themselves. He excused himself and
left the table, the sound of the car being taken from the garage
reaching those left at table as soon as it was possible for Mr. Lee to
get there. He was leaving early and the children could get to school by
street car.
So it came about that Betty “sat on the side lines” during the last
competitive games, when everybody was highly keyed. The seniors, in
spite of losses, for another girl came down with mumps in the midst of
events, were still eligible to win the contest when their last game was
called. It reminded Betty of that other contest, when Mathilde almost
succeeded in giving the game to Marcella’s team against whom they were
playing. Mathilde was such a cheat. Whenever Betty was inclined to feel
sorry for her marrying a boy with a taste for liquor so pronounced, she
thought that Jack was not doing so much better. And Mathilde, though not
on the team, was not far from Betty today in the familiar old “gym”
where quite a crowd had gathered to see the last game that the seniors
would play against any of the others. And it was the sophomores again,
the class team that had done so well. There sat Doris, rooting for the
sophomores, but waving her hand once in friendly fashion at her sister.
But it was hard to keep to good sportsmanship. Besides, Betty had had
enough successes!
The game was an eager one, tense. The seniors had the advantage of
superior public poise, perhaps, and longer experience. The sophomores,
however, were out to win. One senior girl finally, to Betty’s dismay,
began to blunder and play badly, giving a big advantage to the
sophomores, who needed no prompting in regard to taking it. Then the
girl was taken out of the game and there was a consultation. Mathilde
moved over to Betty’s side, where they were watching the game, and hoped
that she would be called to take her place. “I just wanted to jump right
up and take that ball!” cried Mathilde. “What made her so stupid?”
“I think she must be sick, Mathilde. Carolyn had her arm around her.”
But Betty had felt the same way. Could they win now? They must! Then the
championship game would be the last.
But the director was coming in their direction. Mathilde hopped up
hopefully, but again was disappointed in having Betty chosen before her.
Betty felt almost sorry, though she was in the mood to do anything—all
to save the game. Ah, Betty could make baskets, and with Carolyn and
Kathryn there!
Fast and furious went the last part of the game. Rooters called and gave
the Lyon High cheers to encourage the players. The sophomore rooters
grew quiet as the score began to pile up for the seniors. “Well, it
begins to look as if we’d have to wait till next year to smite ’em in
class contests,” sighed Doris to her chum.
“Never mind, if they do beat us this time, we’ll be the ones to play
against them in the championship games unless we lose our next game with
the freshies.”
Breathless and delighted with victory, Betty after distinguishing
herself in brave help and rescue at an important juncture, talked it all
over with Carolyn and Kathryn. “Oh, you girls are simply marvelous, the
way you pass to each other!”
“Yes, and the way you got on to everything just as if you had been
playing with, us all along!”
“I have, in spirit,” laughed Betty. “I’ve seen every game and noted
every thing you did.”
Carolyn and Kathryn were forwards and had, indeed worked up a “system”
as they declared to Betty, but that amounted only to an almost
instinctive knowledge of each other’s probable action under the rules
and suggestions of their coach. “Now if we just had you for captain,”
laughed Carolyn, “we could play the whole game without anybody else!
Don’t tell Gwen I said that, though. She’s great.”
“Wouldn’t that make an interesting game,” said Betty, “three on the
floor!”
But Carolyn said that she was a true prophet when Gwen Penrose, senior
captain, before the championship game came down with the prevalent and
disgustingly childish disease. The ranks were decimated indeed and the
other class was rejoicing. The other girls on the senior team were
worried. They were all needed in their own particular duties. No one
wanted to take the responsibility of being captain. Then with one
accord, coach and girls decided that Betty could do it, and Betty,
hesitatingly, said that she would try.
“You led a team to victory once, Betty—just do it again,” urged
Kathryn.
“It’s a risk, girls, but then, somebody’s got to do it—only it should
be one of the original second team.”
“The best ones are down with mumps, too, Betty, and it looks as if the
fates have elected you to do the job.”
“Well,” Mickey Carlin told a sophomore boy, “if Betty Lee is captain of
the senior team, it’s goodnight for your girls. She’s president of the
G. A. A. anyhow, and seems to have a _gift_ for leadership and any sort
of athletics. But the mumps seems to be the seniors’ Waterloo. If Betty
gets it, you may have hope.”
“She’s had ’em. Dick Lee said so,” replied the sophomore boy, grinning.
“But I’ll not mention it to the girls.”
“You forget about Doris,” suggested Mickey. “I don’t want to mention
anything else discouraging, but it isn’t impossible for the sophomores
to get the mumps playing this way with the seniors, you know.”
“Forget it! Mumps, indeed!” But the next day he did not come to school.
Mumps had struck even a sophomore.
Fortunately the little epidemic spread no farther, once recognized.
Betty, neglecting other things temporarily, practiced basketball till
the championship game, the center of so much interest, was on. Cool
outwardly, but tense within and alert to every play, Betty as captain
almost prayed for success. This year was her farewell to competitive
athletics. Her mother, saying that she could not stand the excitement
and hoped that Betty would not get hurt, refused to attend the game.
Betty did not know whether she spoke in earnest or was joking; but the
ticket she had for her mother she gave to Amy Lou, who had begged to go
and was now in a state of high delight, saying that one of her school
chums had a cousin on the squad and that she was to be taken over from
school in an automobile, if she could only have an excuse to get out
early.
That matter was attended to and Doris shook her finger at Amy Lou with a
comical expression, asking her which team she “would root for.” “Will it
be Betty’s class or mine?” she cried, shaking, her head to suggest dire
consequences if Amy Lou chose Betty’s.
“Well, but _Betty_ is _playing_,” decided Amy Lou on the spot.
The hour arrived and a game fast and furious was on, closely watched,
well played by both sides. Never before had it seemed so difficult for
any senior on the team to make a basket. The sophomores were “set
against it,” said Doris Lee to Amy Lou and her friend, both of whom
would ask questions at the most exciting moment!
Again swift passing and long shots were employed by the seniors. There
was little scoring on either side till almost the last of the game. And
then it was Betty, who at the last minute made another basket and gave
the seniors what was necessary to win over the sophomores by _one
point_!
Both teams were due for congratulations. “Now that was what we call a
good game,” said Doris decidedly to Amy Lou. “Of course, whoever wins
would like to win with a higher score, but it makes more excitement this
way.”
“My oldest sister,” explained Amy Lou to her schoolmate, “is president
of the G. A. A. and the best swimmer in school, that is, of the girls.
That was her, captain of the senior team. She gets prizes and things,
too.”
“I know all those girls on the team,” airily replied Amy Lou’s friend.
“My cousin tells me about them. But I guess your sister is real good. I
saw her make that basket at the end.”
“Betty can do anything she tries to do,” said loyal Amy Lou, more loyal
than wise on some occasions. “She is going to see if I can’t come to the
game the faculty has with the regular team. It’s terribly funny, always,
and they have all sorts of stunts. The worst is getting Mother to let me
get excused from school early.”
“Oh, that is never any trouble for me,” said the other child. “Sometimes
they come for me and just take me to a movie.”
Amy Lou was rather envious at that statement and wondered what her
parents would say if she repeated it at home.
“I’ll take you some time,” offered the child.
“Thank you, but I wouldn’t be allowed,” said Amy Lou. She had already
expressed her thanks for the kindness of this trip.
Meantime a tired and excited Betty was receiving congratulations for the
team and for herself. While Amy Lou went home with Doris, Betty took a
plunge and shower and was carried off to Carolyn’s, for the Gwynne car
was to call for Carolyn. They scarcely talked on the way and the only
bit of energy shown by Carolyn that evening was when she called up to
see if Betty could stay all night. It was one of those quiet, restful
visits that Betty could have with Carolyn and that Carolyn enjoyed with
her. She almost told Carolyn about Larry’s arranging with Marcella to be
with her at supper that night of the party. But it might lead to other
things and the only thing that Carolyn said about it was to comment on
how nice it was of Marcella to put Betty with Larry.
“I always did think that Larry Waite was interested in you, Betty.
‘Always’ means last summer, of course. He must be four or five years
older than you are. I imagine he must have asked Marcella to place him
with you. She was telling me how his father depends on him. It seems the
older brother went into the navy and is somewhere way off, in the
Philippines, I imagine.”
Betty looked interested, responding by smiles and attention. “I never
heard Marcella say,” she answered, “and Larry never spoke of it that I
can remember.”
Betty’s memories of Larry were still too precious to be talked about,
even with Carolyn. Perhaps she would have the promised letter soon. But
if he made this trip for his father and had lessons to make up, he might
not have time. That he would not forget, she was sure. It was different
now.