The Hockey Season
When the hockey season commenced, Winona got to business. She was wildly
anxious to prove an effective Games Captain, and win credit for the
school. It would be no easy matter to follow so excellent a predecessor
as Kirsty Paterson, but she determined to keep Kirsty's ideals well in
mind, and try to live up to them. One change, which Kirsty had
suggested, Winona at once carried out. The hockey badge was altered. The
new one had the initials S.H.S. embroidered in the school colors on
plain dark blue shields, and looked very imposing on the tunics. There
was another point upon which Winona was resolved to effect a reform. The
field was not in a thoroughly satisfactory condition, and certainly
needed attention. The prefects had put the matter before Miss Bishop,
who referred it to the Governors. Those august personages, mindful of
war economies, decided that for the present it would do well enough, and
would not vote the spending of any money upon its improvement. The bad
news was received with indignation throughout the school.
"It's too stingy for anything! How can we possibly have decent practice
on such a rough old place? I'd like to make them come and try it for
themselves, the mean wretches!" protested Bessie Kirk.
Winona laughed. A vision of the Governors wildly brandishing hockey
sticks flashed across her imagination. She seized her note-book and drew
a fancy portrait of the delicious scene: old Councillor Thomson, very
wheezy and fat, running furiously; bald-headed Mr. Crabbe performing
wonderful acrobatic feats; a worthy J.P. engaged in a tussle with the
Town Clerk; and various other of the City Fathers in interesting and
exciting attitudes. The masterpiece was passed round for general
admiration. The girls sniggered.
"Wish we could show it to them!" said Margaret Kemp. "Perhaps it might
make them realize their responsibilities. It's too sickening of them to
grudge keeping the field in order!"
"Look here, it's no use complaining!" said Winona. "Of course it
relieves one's feelings, but it doesn't make any difference to the
field. I've got a plan to propose. Let us ask Miss Bishop how much it
would cost to hire somebody to do the rolling, and offer to pay for it
ourselves. We could get up a Hockey Concert in aid of it."
"What a frolicsome notion! I'm your man!"
"Wouldn't it be setting a bad precedent?" objected Marjorie Kemp.
"Suppose the Governors stop having the tennis courts cut, and say we may
do it ourselves?"
"We'd put that to Miss Bishop first, and make it well understood."
"It would just make all the difference to the practices to have a roller
at work, even once a week," urged Olave Parry. "Do ask about it, Win!"
Miss Bishop, on being appealed to, considered the suggestion favorably.
"Certainly there's no reason why you shouldn't improve the field, if you
wish," she replied, adding with a smile: "I'll take care that the tennis
courts don't suffer in consequence. It was a prudent thought to mention
them. I expect when the war is over, the Governors may be persuaded to
take the full expense of the playing field too. I'll get an estimate at
once of what the rolling would cost."
Jones, the school janitor, who formerly kept the courts and cricket
pitch in order, had gone to the war, and his place was occupied by a
rheumatic old fellow who could do little more than carry coke and attend
to the heating apparatus. When every able-bodied man seemed fighting or
making munitions, it was difficult to find anybody to roll a hockey
field, A volunteer was procured at last, however, who undertook the job
at the rate of £1 per month, with an extra thirty shillings for putting
the field in good order to begin with. Six or seven pounds, therefore,
would cover the expenses of the season. Winona, mindful of the terrible
offense she had given in connection with the Old Girls' Guild, very
wisely took the matter to Linda Fletcher, who called a united meeting of
Prefects and Games Committee to discuss the best way of raising the
money.
"It will have to be done on a bigger scale than the symposium last
year," said Hilda Langley. "If I remember rightly, that made exactly £2
13_s._ 7_d._, enough for a Form trophy, but not sufficient for this
venture."
"We'd better issue tickets, and sell some of them to parents and
friends," suggested Linda.
"How many will the hall hold?"
"Three hundred at a pinch, if the babes squash up tight."
"They won't mind doing that in a good cause."
"The Dramatic Society ought to take an innings, and provide at least
half the program."
"They'll jump at the opportunity. I believe they have something quite
prepared, and have been yearning for an audience."
"Then by all means let them have one."
"At sixpence a head," added practical Marjorie; "we ought easily to be
able to sell sixpenny tickets."
Everybody took up the idea with enthusiasm. The difficulty was not so
much to find helpers as to decide who was to have the honor of
performing. There were many heart-burnings before the program was
finally fixed. It was decided that a musical selection should be given
first, followed by a piece by the Dramatic students. To cut these to
reasonable limits needed all Linda's discretion, tact and firmness.
"You can't have an entertainment beginning at three, and going on till
midnight," she urged, as the various desired items were submitted to
her. "You'd have to hire ambulances to take your exhausted audience
home! Very sorry, but we must keep some of the things for a future
occasion."
Linda, being wise in her generation, and having an eye to the sale of
tickets, insisted that the Lower School should take a share in the
performance.
"Who wants to bother to hear the kids?" objected Grace Olliver, who, by
the bye, was a member of the "Dramatic," and therefore not entirely
disinterested.
"If we don't bother with the kids, they mayn't bother to come and bring
friends, and we should look silly if we didn't sell all our tickets! Let
them do their flag display, and sing their Empire song. That will
content them and their mothers, and leaves quite time enough for other
people."
Miss Bishop allowed a special Wednesday afternoon to be set aside for
the entertainment; the tickets sold briskly, and expectation ran high.
All concerned in the program kept their parts a dead secret, but items
leaked out, and the wildest rumors were afloat. It was whispered that
some of the Governors were to be present, and even that Miss Bishop
would perform a sword dance, though not the most callow of juniors
really consented to swallow such an astounding piece of information. The
uncertainty as to what was in store, however, added largely to the
pleasurable anticipation, and though the Dramatic Society rehearsed with
locked door, and the keyhole carefully stopped up, juvenile spies, by
hoisting one another up to the level of the windows, obtained brief and
tantalizing peeps and spread news of gorgeosities in the way of
costumes.
When the great afternoon arrived, the hall was crammed. The little girls
were packed as tightly as sardines. A long line of them squatted on the
floor in front of the first row, and others sat on the window sills,
the latter positions having been scrambled for with enthusiasm.
Every one was at the tip-top of expectation. The concert opened with the
inevitable piano solo which seems indispensable for the starting of any
entertainment, and during the performance of which latecomers hurry to
their seats, programs are sold, and the audience, with a tremendous
amount of rustling and whispering, settles itself down to listen. This
initiatory ceremony being over, more interesting items followed. The
juveniles sang an Empire song, accompanied by a pretty flag drill; it
was a taking tune, and as Linda had prophesied was immensely applauded
by the visitors, who insisted on an encore. A violin solo came next, and
was followed by a charming Russian dance given by two members of Form
IV.a. Garnet played a piece on her mandoline, with piano
accompaniment. She had suggested a duet for mandoline and guitar, but
Winona had had no time to practice her instrument lately, and had begged
to be excused. The fact was that Winona had been busy with a special
item which she now brought out as a surprise to the school. She had
composed some verses in praise of hockey, and set them to one of the
tunes in the senior school song-book. The piece was sung by an eleven in
full hockey costume, and they waved their hockey-sticks with appropriate
actions to the music:
"When autumn returns, and the trees are all bare,
Our blue tunics are off to the field;
No team in excitement with ours can compare,
As our hockey-sticks wildly we wield.
For hockey's the game to play
When autumn has come to stay,
And this is the reason we love the cold season,
For hockey's the game to play.
"Hurrah for goalkeepers, for forwards and halves!
Hurrah for the clash of the sticks!
Hurrah for the rapture of scoring a goal!
(Who minds a few bruises or kicks?)
For hockey's the game to play,
When autumn has come to stay,
And this is the reason we love the cold season,
For hockey's the game to play.
"But a team that is set upon scoring its goal,
And winning a vict'ry or two,
Must see that its field it should carefully roll,
And that's what we're hoping to do!
Oh! hockey's the game to play,
When autumn has come to stay,
Yes, this is the reason we love the cold season,
When hockey's the game we play!
"Hurrah for Form trophies! Hurrah for our badge!
We'll make it an annual rule
To hold a 'Sports' Concert,' to wish all success
To the team of the Seaton High School!
Oh! hockey's the game to play,
And at Seaton we know the way!
Yes, this is the reason we love the cold season,
When hockey's the game we play!"
Winona's words would certainly not have passed muster as a literary
composition, but their extreme appropriateness to the occasion, combined
with the action of the hockey-sticks, completely brought down the
house. The applause was thunderous, and the last verse was encored twice
over. Undoubtedly it was the hit of the afternoon.
For the second part of the performance the Dramatic Society gave an
amusing little play, and the concert wound up with a lusty rendering of
certain patriotic songs.
Winona was highly gratified. Both artistically and financially the
entertainment had proved a success. The committee would be well able to
bear the expense of keeping the field in order. A gardener had been at
work there, and already a marked improvement was noticeable. The Games
Captain's enthusiasm was infectious. Under her leadership the girls
became wonderfully keen. To Winona the thrill of struggle when a game
seemed on the eve of being lost was one of the wildest excitements in
life, and the joy when she struck the ball home straight and true the
utmost triumph obtainable. During this autumn term she lived for hockey.
The crowd of school girls, in thick boots and blue tunics, struggling
and shouting in a somewhat muddy field might not be an altogether
picturesque sight, but to the Captain it was Marathon and Waterloo
combined. No colonel prided himself on a crack regiment more than Winona
on her team. Sometimes, of course, a practice was off color; the day
might be bleak or drizzly, or players might be penalized for "sticks,"
or grumblers might express their dissatisfaction audibly, but whatever
went wrong, Winona emerged cheerful from the fray, remonstrated with
"off-sides" and "sticks," and reminded growlers that it is unsporting
to murmur. By Kirsty's advice she had sent out challenges to several
good clubs in the neighborhood.
"While we were still in our callow infancy I should not have ventured,"
wrote Kirsty from Cornwall. "But one must begin some time to measure
one's strength. After the work we did last season, I certainly think you
might risk it. Nothing improves a team so much as playing plenty of
matches; you see in time you get to know the strokes of everybody at the
High, and you can calculate what others will do at certain turns of the
game; it's far better for you to meet all sorts and conditions of
opponents."
Winona had been afraid it was rather "cheek" to challenge the "West
Rytonshire Club" or "Oatlands College," but she ascertained that both
those august bodies had two teams, Number 1 and Number 2, and that while
the first only met foes worthy of their steel (or rather sticks!) the
second would graciously condescend to play a yet unknown High School.
The match with Oatlands College was fixed for December 16th, and Winona
looked forward to it with some anxiety. The last practice had not been
altogether satisfactory. The day had been wretchedly cold, and everybody
had been cross in consequence. The team, though proud of its fixture
with so celebrated an opponent, was not very sure of itself.
"I hope to goodness Peggie'll play up!" groaned Marjorie Kemp. "The way
she lost that last goal on Saturday was idiotic."
"She said she was cold!" commented Gladys Porter, witheringly. "She
wanted to change at half-time. She said her feet were solid ice, and her
nose was blue, and it was no fun watching the whole of the game being
played right away at the other end of the field."
"Most unsporting!" moralized Marjorie. "Besides, when she got her
chance, she hit the air! It will be very humiliating if the Oatlands
team walk over us!"
"Oh, don't be a Jeremiah! We're not beaten yet! If anybody can pull us
through, our Captain will!"
"Winona's a jewel!" agreed Marjorie. "And yet the best captain in the
world can't make up for an only moderately good team. I feel my own
deficiencies!"
Practically the whole of the High School assembled as spectators on the
great day of the match. Things were very different now from the old
times when a mere handful collected to cheer the Seaton team. Mistresses
and girls were alike keen, and most desirous of witnessing the combat.
They followed the game breathlesly.
"Oatlands isn't worth a toss!" commented Garnet exultantly.
"Don't make too sure!" replied Linda, looking with apprehension as the
red jerseys of their rivals massed round the ball.
A familiar figure dashed forward, a hockey stick struck, and the ball
swept out to safety. Linda heaved a long sigh of relief.
"Winona is just A1," she murmured. "Hello! Good gracious! what's that
idiot doing?"
For Ellinor Cooper, whose arm was the strongest in the school, wielding
her hockey stick with all her force, had hit Winona across the shin.
Instantly there was a commotion. Winona, white with the agony of the
blow, leaned hard against Bessie Kirk, and clenched her fists to avoid
crying out.
"Are you hurt?"
"What's happened?"
"You've had a nasty knock!"
There was quite a crowd round Winona, and a chorus of sympathy.
"Put in a substitute!" urged Bessie. "You're not fit to go on!"
"No, no! I'm better now," panted their captain, with a wan little smile.
"I'll manage, thanks! Yes, really! Please don't worry yourselves about
me!"
The game recommenced and Winona, with a supreme effort, continued to
play. The pain was still acute, but she realized that on her presence or
absence depended victory or defeat. Without her, the courage of the team
would collapse. How she lived through the time she never knew.
Inspired by the heroic example of their captain, the girls were playing
for all they were worth. The score, which had been against them, was now
even. Time was almost up. Winona set her teeth. The ball seemed a kind
of star which she was following--Following anyhow. As the French say,
she "did her possible." The ball went spinning. Next minute she was
leaning against a goal-post, trembling with the violence of her effort,
while the High School hoorayed itself hoarse in the joy of the hard-won
victory.
"I say, old girl, were you really hurt?" asked Bessie anxiously. "You're
looking the color of chalk!"
"Never mind, it's over now! Yes, I am hurt. Give me your arm, and I'll
go back to the hostel."
"You're an absolute Joan of Arc to-day!" purred Bessie.
Winona, with a barked shin and bad bruises, limped for more than a week,
but she was the heroine of the school.
"I can't think how you ran, after that awful whack Ellinor Cooper gave
you," sympathized Marjorie.
"It was easier to run then than after my leg grew stiff," laughed
Winona. "I suppose it's the excitement that keeps one up. Don't make
such a fuss, we've all had hard knocks in our time. Agnes Smith got a
black eye last spring!"
As the result of her wounds in the hockey field Winona made friends with
Miss Kelly. The latter was most prompt in applying lanoline and
bandages, and proved so kind in bringing Winona her breakfast in bed,
and making her rest on the sofa during preparation, that a funny little
sort of intimacy sprang up between them.
"She's fussy on the surface, but nice when you know her," confided
Winona to Garnet. "If I'd been staying at the hostel, I expect we should
have got on capitally next term!"