THE DORMITORY MATCH
As a rule when Gerry walked into a room, she might have been invisible
so far as the Lower Fifth was concerned. But on this particular
morning the form's collective curiosity was too great to allow it to
keep up its dignified attitude of obliviousness any longer.
"What did Muriel want you for?" demanded Phyllis jealously, as Gerry
came into the sitting-room.
"N--nothing much," answered Gerry nervously. She nearly always was
nervous when questioned abruptly, more especially when Phyllis
Tressider happened to be the questioner. "It was only--only that I've
got to play in the dormitory match this afternoon."
"_You_! What on earth is Muriel thinking of? Why, you can't play
hockey for nuts!" exclaimed Dorothy Pemberton in undisguised
astonishment.
That was, to tell the truth, exactly Gerry's own opinion, but all the
same it was not pleasant to have it confirmed so emphatically by
somebody else. All her determination to play her very best that
afternoon, and so justify Muriel's choice, slipped away from the new
girl as she saw the incredulous amazement in her companions' faces. Of
course she couldn't play! She was quite hopeless where games were
concerned, and always would be. All the old lack of confidence and
distrust of self flooded Gerry's mind again, quite undoing all the good
Muriel's kindly encouragement had worked in her.
It was with a premonition of failure that she took up the place Muriel
had assigned to her on the hockey field that afternoon. She felt
physically ill with suspense and nervousness as she waited for the
whistle to sound and the game to start--a nervousness which grew
greater and greater as the game went on and no balls came her way.
Perhaps if the thick of the fighting had been down her end, some of
Gerry's nervousness might have worn off. But, as it happened, the Pink
Dormitory forwards proved themselves immeasurably superior to the
forwards of the Green Dormitory. And nearly all the play took place
down near the Green Dormitory's goal. On the few occasions when the
Green forwards did get away with the ball, they were turned back easily
by the Pink half-backs. Monica Deane, Gerry's companion at full back,
stopped a stray ball or two, but nothing at all serious in the nature
of a struggle took place at the Pink Dormitory's end of the field.
But although the Green attack was poor, its defence was strong enough,
and in spite of the fact that all the play was down in the Green's goal
circle, it was not until well after half-time that Muriel succeeded at
last in scoring a goal for her dormitory. Gerry drew a breath of
relief as the forwards returned to the centre-line. Incredible as it
may sound, Gerry had not as yet touched a ball. There couldn't be much
longer to play now--not more than another ten minutes at the outside.
If she had not distinguished herself so far, at least she had not
disgraced herself. Oh, if only Muriel would keep the ball at the other
end until these next ten minutes were over, then she would be safely
through her ordeal! Monica and the Pink goal-keeper were lamenting
loudly at the dullness of their afternoon, but Gerry was almost praying
that the inaction might continue to the end.
But, alas! her prayers were destined to be unfulfilled! Five minutes
before time, the Green Dormitory made a desperate effort to break down
the Pink team's defence. Jack Pym, from her place at half-back, got
hold of the ball, and obeying the orders of her captain, Alice
Metcalfe, not to pass it but to break etiquette for once and take it up
herself, succeeded in getting it by the Pink half-backs. Elsie
Lipscombe, centre forward for the Greens, joined her then, and together
the two took the ball down until they were almost inside the Pink
Dormitory's goal circle. Monica flew out to tackle them, and succeeded
in stopping Elsie Lipscombe, who, however, tipped the ball back to Jack
with an injunction to "get it into the goal circle and shoot for all
you're worth."
"Into her, Gerry!" shouted Monica, flying after Jack, but unable to
catch up with her. It should have been an easy matter for Gerry to
have disposed of the ball, for at that moment Jack slipped suddenly and
sent it accidentally a yard or so farther in front of her than she had
intended. All that Gerry had to do was to stop the ball--it was not a
hard one--and hit it out of the goal circle. But the panic which had
been raging in Gerry's soul all the afternoon took complete possession
of her at this critical moment. To her distorted imagination the ball
seemed to have grown to three times its normal size, while Jack,
bearing rapidly down upon her, appeared a veritable juggernaut. The
ball was coming straight towards her, but she did not even attempt to
stop it. Worse even than that: with a little shrill cry of terror she
dropped her stick and fled!
Of course the goal was scored. The Pink goal-keeper was too utterly
flabbergasted at her full back's desertion to do anything but stare
after Gerry's fleeing figure. Jack, however, although she too was
astounded at Gerry's behaviour, kept her wits about her sufficiently to
pounce upon the ball and send it flying between the goalposts, thus
making things even between the two teams again.
The whistle blew for a goal, and Gerry, recovering from her momentary
lapse, returned to her place. She was trembling in every limb,
overcome with shame at her exhibition of fear, and the coldness with
which Monica and the goalkeeper regarded her as she crept forlornly
back to her position did not help her to regain very much of her
equanimity.
Muriel made a desperate effort to recover her lost advantage. But she
could not succeed in breaking down the Green Dormitory's defence again,
and the whistle blew for time at last without either side gaining the
victory.
"Bother!" said Muriel, as she and Monica and one or two other members
of the Pink team walked off the field together. "That means we'll have
to play it again. We ought to have won easily, too. I messed up an
easy shot for goal in the first half--if I'd only got that we should
have been all right."
"_Or_ if that little ass, Gerry Wilmott, hadn't funked," remarked
Monica, rather bitterly. It was she who had given the casting vote in
favour of Gerry's inclusion in the team, and she was feeling more or
less responsible for the fiasco.
"Oh, well, I don't know," said Muriel leniently. "The kid didn't want
to play, I will say that for her. I practically forced her to. It was
my fault, I suppose, really, for making her do it against her will."
"_You_ weren't to know that she was such a little coward, though," said
Monica. Curiously enough it was Monica who was the more down upon
Gerry for her exhibition of fright--Monica, who might have been
expected to have had some sympathy with the shy new girl whom, up to
now, she had rather taken under her wing. As it was, it was Muriel,
brilliant, splendid Muriel, who had never known what it was to have an
attack of funk in her life, who was the more inclined to make excuses
for her. Ever since the mouse episode in the dormitory, which Muriel
had since recognised to have been real terror and not merely
affectation, as she had at first suspected, upon Gerry's part, the head
girl had been observing Gerry with some interest, and the girl's
genuine self-depreciation in her study that morning had touched her
more than she quite knew.
"Poor kiddie, I expect she's feeling pretty cut up about it," she said
sympathetically. And she actually waited until Gerry, forlornly
lagging in the rear of the other players, came up, in order to speak a
kind word to the disgraced member of her team.
Gerry, absorbed in her own miserable thoughts, did not see the head
girl until she was nearly upon her. Then she drew up short with a
nervous gesture, expecting a reprimand. But Muriel made haste to
remove the apprehension she saw in Gerry's eyes.
"Come on, kid; you seem to have got left behind," she said gently.
"Come and walk with me." And she slipped her hand through the younger
girl's arm.
"Oh, Muriel--I am so sorry----" began poor Gerry, the tears coming into
her eyes. But Muriel cut short the impending apology.
"Oh, rubbish!" she said. "Don't be sorry. Just do better another
time. That's all I want. After all, we haven't _lost_ the Cup, you
know. We shall have another shot for it next week or the week after,
and you must try and do better then."
"Oh no, no! Not in a match again! Please, please not, Muriel!" cried
Gerry, with such a note of anguish in her tone that Muriel realised
that this was not a case for the maxim, "You can do it if you only
try," with which she was used to encourage people who in her opinion
needed encouragement. In a vague sort of way it came home to her that
Gerry's mentality was rather outside her experience of schoolgirl
psychology, and for the moment she forbore to press the already
overtaxed girl further.
"Very well," she said gently. "Don't get into such a stew over it.
You shan't play in a match again until you feel more confident. But
you've got to learn to play hockey, you know. I must take you in hand
myself and see what I can do with you. Meanwhile you must cheer up,
and not go fretting yourself to death over that one ball. It really
doesn't matter an atom!"
And as they had now reached the school buildings, she let go of Gerry's
arm, and with a kindly smile and an encouraging pat on her shoulder,
she sent the Lower Fifth girl off to the dormitory to change, not a
little comforted.