THE GREAT GAME
It was a pitched battle from the very beginning.
The junior team was in splendid trim, and they played with great finish
and judgment; but the sight of Grace, one side of whose face was tinged
with blood that had risen to the surface from the deep scratch, seemed to
spur the sophomores to the most spectacular and brilliant plays.
Only one girl lagged, and was not in her usual trim. It was Miriam Nesbit,
whose actions were dispirited and showed no enthusiasm. Her shooting was
so inaccurate that a wave of criticism spread over the audience, and the
members of her own class watched her with deep anxiety. When the first
half ended, however the sophomores were two points to the good.
"Grand little players!" cried Hippy, expressing his joy by kicking both
feet against the wooden walls as hard as he could, while he clapped his
hands and roared with all his might.
"The gamest little team I ever saw," answered Reddy.
But David, who had resumed his seat beside them, made no reply. He rose
presently and went to find his sister, who was sitting somewhat apart from
the other girls in gloomy silence.
"What's the matter with you, sister?" he asked gently. "You are not
playing as well as usual. I expected you, especially, to do some fine work
to-day. On the contrary, you have never played worse."
Miriam looked at her brother coldly.
"Why should I help them when they have dishonored me?" she demanded
fiercely.
"How have they dishonored you, Miriam?" asked David.
"By making me the last in everything; putting me at the foot," she said,
stifling a sob of anger.
David looked at his sister sorrowfully. He saw there was no reasoning with
her in her present state of mind; yet knowing her revengeful spirit, he
dreaded the consequences.
"Miriam," he said at last, speaking slowly, "perhaps, some day, you will
learn by experience that the people who give a square deal are the only
ones who really stay at the head. They always win out; and those who are
not on the level----" He stopped. A sudden suspicion had come into his
mind.
"You don't mean to say that it was you who----"
But he didn't finish. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked away. In
one glance he had read Miriam's secret. Now he understood that look of
wild appeal, baffled rage, mortification and disappointment, all jumbled
together in her turbulent soul.
"Did she really want it so badly as all that?" he thought, "or was it only
her insatiable desire never to be beaten?"
In the meantime, Grace, surrounded by a circle of her school-fellows, was
telling them the history of her imprisonment. Miss Thompson and Mrs.
Harlowe had made their way across the floor to the crowd of sophomores;
Mrs. Harlowe to find out whether her daughter's cheek had been seriously
cut, which it had not, and the principal to ask a few questions.
"Did it look like a trick, Grace?" she asked when she had heard the story.
"I hardly know, Miss Thompson. I feel certain that I left the door open
when I went in. The janitress may have locked it without seeing me."
"Perhaps," answered Miss Thompson thoughtfully, "but the rule of locking
the larger classrooms after school hours has never been followed that I
know of. There is really no reason for it, and it might cause some delay
in the morning, in case Mrs. Gunby were not around to unlock the doors."
"You will have to send a bill to father for all the broken glass," laughed
Grace. "I shouldn't have been here at this moment if I hadn't done some
smashing."
Miss Thompson smiled.
"You were perfectly right to do it, my dear. It was an exhibition of good
judgment and great courage. As for the bill, certainly the victim of an
employé's stupidity should not be held accountable for costs. But we won't
disturb you now with any more questions. You deserve to win the game and I
hope with all my heart you will."
There was still a little time left and Grace determined to improve those
shining moments by having a talk with Miriam.
Miriam never looked up when Grace approached her. Her dark brows were knit
in an ugly frown and her eyes were on the floor.
"Miriam, aren't you glad I got out of prison in time?" asked Grace
cordially.
"I suppose so," answered Miriam, looking anywhere but at Grace.
"Is there anything the matter with you to-day?" continued Grace.
"No," answered Miriam shortly.
"Your playing is not up to mark. The girls are very uneasy. Won't you try
to do a little better next half?"
There was a childlike appeal in Grace's voice that grated so on Miriam's
nerves, at that moment that she deliberately turned and walked away,
leaving Grace standing alone.
"Wait a minute, Miriam," called Nora, who, with some of the other
sophomores, had been watching the scene. "You aren't ill to-day, are you?"
"No," replied Miriam angrily.
"Because, if you are really ill, you know," continued Nora, "your sub.
could take your place. Anna Ray can play a great deal better game than you
played the first half."
Miriam turned on Nora furiously, and was about to make one of her most
violent replies, when the whistle blew and the girls flew to their places.
Julia Crosby and Grace smiled at each other in the most friendly fashion
as they stood face to face for the last time that season. There was
nothing but good-natured rivalry between them now.
The referee balanced the ball for an instant, her whistle to her lips.
Then the ball shot up, her whistle sounded and the great decisive last
half had begun.
Grace managed to bat the ball as it descended in the direction of one of
her eager forwards who tried for the basket and just missed it. The
juniors made a desperate attempt to get the ball into their territory, but
the sophomores were too quick for them, and Nora made a brilliant throw to
goal that caused the sophomore fans to cheer with wild enthusiasm.
It was a game long to be remembered. Both teams fought with a
determination and spirit that caused their fans in the gallery to shout
themselves hoarse. The juniors made some plays little short of marvellous,
and five minutes before the last half was over the score stood 8 to 6 in
favor of the sophomores.
"This game will end in a tie if they're not careful," exclaimed Hippy.
"No, Nora has the ball! She'll score if anyone can! Put her home, Nora!"
he yelled excitedly.
Nora was about to make one of the lightning goal throws for which she was
noted, when like a flash Miriam Nesbit seized the ball from her, and
attempted to make the play herself. But her aim was inaccurate. The ball
flew wide of the basket and was seized by a junior guard. The tie seemed
inevitable.
A groan went up from the gallery. Then a distinct hiss was heard, and a
second later the entire sophomore class hissed Miriam Nesbit.
Miss Thompson rose, thinking to call the house to order, but sat down
again, shaking her head.
"They know what they are about," she said, for Grace herself did not know
the game any better than the principal. "It was inexcusable of Miriam,
inexcusable and intentional. In attempting to gratify her own vanity she
has prevented her side from scoring at a time when all personal desire
should be put aside. She really deserves it."
But the score was not tied after all, for the junior guard fumbled the
ball, dropped it and before she could regain possession of it, it was
speeding toward Marian Barber, thrown with unerring accuracy by Grace. Up
went Marian's hands. She grasped it, then hurled it with all her might,
straight into the basket. Five seconds later the whistle blew, with the
score 10 to 6.
The sophomores had won.
The enthusiastic fans of both classes rushed out of the gallery and down
the stairs to the gymnasium. Two tall sophomores seized Grace and making a
chair of their hands, carried her around the gymnasium, followed by the
rest of the class, sounding their class yell at the tops of their voices.
The story of Grace's imprisonment and escape out of the third story window
went from mouth to mouth, and her friends eagerly crowded the floor in an
effort to speak to her. There were High School yells and class yells until
Miss Thompson was obliged to cover her ears to deaden the noise.
Miss Thompson made her way through the crowd to where Grace was standing
in the midst of her admiring schoolmates. The principal took the young
captain in her arms, embracing her tenderly.
Surely no one had ever seen Miss Thompson display so much unrestrained and
candid emotion before. There were tears in her eyes, her voice trembled
when she spoke.
"It was a great victory, Grace, I congratulate you and your class. You
have fought a fine, courageous battle against great odds. Many another
girl who had climbed out of a third-story window, without even a rope to
hold by, would have little strength left to play basketball much less to
win the championship. I am very proud of you to-day, my dear," and she
kissed Grace right on the deep, red scratch that marred her cheek.
"She is a girl after my own heart," Miss Thompson was thinking, as she
hurried to her office. "Grace has faults, of course, but on the other
hand, she is as honest as the day, modest about her ability, unselfish and
with boundless courage. Certainly she is a splendid influence in a
school, and I wish I had more pupils like her."
It was with difficulty that Grace extricated herself from her admiring
friends and, accompanied by her chums, made for the locker room to don
street attire.
Now that it was all over the reaction had set in, and she began to feel a
little tired, although she was almost too happy for words. She walked
along, dimly alive to what the girls were saying.
Nora was still upset over Miriam Nesbit's lawless attempt to score, and
sputtered angrily all the way down the corridor. "I should think Miriam
Nesbit would be ashamed to show her face in school, again, after this
afternoon's performance," Nora declared.
"Did you see what David did?" queried Jessica.
"Yes, I did," said Anne.
"What was it?" asked Grace, coming out of her day dream.
"The minute the girls began to hiss Miriam, he got up and walked out of
the gymnasium," Jessica replied. "I believe he was so deeply ashamed of
what she did that he couldn't bear to stay."
"Well, he found Grace, and rescued her in time for the game," said Anne.
"That must be some consolation to him. I don't see how you got locked in,
Grace. Are you sure you didn't close the door after you. It has a spring
lock, you know."
"I thought I left it open," mused Grace, "but I might have unconsciously
pulled it to."
"It is very strange," replied Anne, in whose mind a vague suspicion had
taken root. Then she made a mental resolve to do a little private
investigating on her own account.
When Grace reached home that night she found two boxes awaiting her.
"Oh, what can they be?" she cried in great excitement, for it was not
every day that she found two imposing packages on the hall table, at the
same time, addressed to her.
"Open them and see, little daughter," replied Grace's father, pinching her
unscratched cheek.
The one was a large box of candy from her classmates, the contents of
which they helped to devour the next day.
The other box held a bunch of violets and lilies of the valley. In this
were two cards, "Mrs. Robert Nesbit" and "Mr. David Nesbit."
"Poor old David!" thought Grace, as she buried her nose in the violets.
"He is trying to atone for Miriam's sins."