BASKETBALL
To both Cathalina and Hilary the days in New York, with the circle of
lively young friends flew fast. After more than a week of unadulterated
good times, Hilary found herself homeward bound in charge of Mr. Martin
Van Buskirk, who was off on another business trip for his firm. They
followed a brief visit with the dear home people who were unselfishly
glad for all the good times which were coming Hilary’s way. Little Mary
sat solemnly listening, holding the big “New York dollie” which Mrs. Van
Buskirk had sent her, and enjoying all the stories about the little
Charlotte, some of whose escapades Hilary omitted to tell lest her small
sister be influenced to like performances. Gordon and Tom were as
interested in the New York boys, and June could not hear enough about
the beautiful home, the Christmas tree and the places which her sister
had seen, in and about New York.
Cathalina and her family had the intimate little visit together which
would carry them over the hours of separation ahead. Aunt Katherine was
delighted at the result of Cathalina’s adventure into a girls’ school
and wanted to hear first hand from Cathalina all about Miss Randolph,
the school and the girls.
But in no time at all, it seemed, school days at Greycliff had begun and
both Cathalina and Hilary were hard at work, Hilary whipping her team
into shape for the tournaments. All the Junior girls were interested and
loyal. The team was a strong one and had high hopes.
On a frosty night in February, the big “gym”, lit up with brilliant
electric lights and gay with banners, afforded to Greycliff girls and
their visitors a fascinating scene. Girls, girls, girls, and girls
again, came laughing, talking excitedly, each expectant of glory for her
own class team. The older girls were there, too, to see which team would
win the privilege of playing against their winning team and to note how
they played.
Each class had its allotted seats, its song and “yell” leaders, as in
the colleges, each applauding the others’ efforts, but trying to
outstrip every other in originality or noise. No one sat still, but all
were bobbing up or down, this way or that.
Now the Seniors led off, “Seniors ’rah, Seniors ’rah! Greycliff!” The
Sophomores broke into a jolly song and were followed by the Freshmen,
who brought down the house by their shrill singing and desperate
efforts.
O, we’re the little Freshmen,
So young and fresh and gay;
And when we all
Play basketball,
We bear the prize away!
We’ve never been defeated;
We’ve brains and skill and ‘pep’;
Just let us play
By night or day,
And watch us make the ‘rep’!
Avalon, in green sweater and cap, led the singing, completely
transformed from the homesick girl Cathalina first knew. Isabel, with
characteristic energy, led the fierce yell, “Br-rr-rr-ah-zoom! zoom!
Freshmen!” Isabel looked funny enough, stooping to the ground as she had
seen her brothers do, carrying the “Br-rr” along as in her two hands and
waving her arms wildly on “Freshmen!”
Cathalina joined in the literally violent applause given the Freshmen
and bid fair to become as crazy as the rest. She had written a song for
the Juniors and was anxious to hear how it would sound.
Like the rest, the Junior song leader was excited and marshalled her
forces with much enthusiasm. “Now put some ‘pep’ into it, girls,” she
cried, “ready,—sing!”
Greycliff Juniors bold are we,
Strong and hearty as you see;
Baskets?—we can make them all,
When our team plays basketball!
Run and go,
Catch each throw,
’Rah-rah, Juniors! Greycliff Hall!
Don’t you wish you had our team?
Watch them when they get up steam!
Juliet’s swift and can not fall;
You can never budge old Paul!
Yells and din,
Juniors win!
Junior ’Cademy! Greycliff Hall!
“Imagine the elegant Cathalina making up a song like that when she first
came to Greycliff!” Isabel had said, and Cathalina did not more than
half like it, though Isabel’s intentions were entirely complimentary, as
Cathalina knew.
One small section of seats held the lady teachers. The “Gym” teacher was
walking here and there, talking occasionally to the referee. The latter
was a fine looking girl, lithe and tall, with blonde hair braided and
wrapped tightly around her head. Blouse, bloomers and stockings were of
black silk and she was the embodiment of grace and swiftness as she blew
her whistle and ran hither and yon after the game commenced.
By lot it was determined that the Juniors were to play the Sophomores
and the Freshmen the Seniors, an arrangement which was hard on the
Freshmen because their defeat was so immediate and crushing. It was
humiliating, also, in point of score. The contest between the Sophomores
and Juniors was more even, and accordingly more interesting; but the
Juniors won, and at the last ran up quite a score.
Then came the most exciting contest of all, between the two winning
teams, Junior and Senior Academy. Teams and classes were quivering with
expectation. The Junior team expected victory, but knew that it must be
hard won if won at all. “It helps a lot, girls,” said Hilary, “to think
you can beat ’em if you try hard enough. I just feel in my bones that we
_can_,—now _shall_ we do it?” The Seniors were alive to the disgrace of
being beaten by a younger class, and knowing that the Junior team was a
strong one, they prepared for a struggle.
The referee blew her whistle. She tossed the ball and the two centers
jumped eagerly. At once it became the property of the Senior girls,
whose guarding was fine and determination desperate. Not a chance did
the Juniors have until the Seniors had made two baskets amid shrieks of
delight from Senior “rooters” and the encouraging yells of Juniors to
their team. Then the tide turned for a time. A Senior girl fumbled and
the ball was Hilary’s, who played left forward. A quick and accurate
toss put it through the basket, while Juniors this time shrieked and
applauded. In the next play Juliet caught the ball and tossed it over
her head,—to come down through the basket! Four baskets the Juniors made
in the midst of wild applause or breathless moments of anxiety. A close
struggle followed, each side striving to gain the advantage.
In unwise partisanship, a Senior girl was guilty of a foul, and Hilary
was called out to try for the basket. Silence reigned while Captain
Hilary stood facing the basket with the ball between her hands. She
measured the distance and with an easy lift tossed the ball straight
above the basket, through which it dropped to the floor. Senior
successes followed, and at the end of the first half the score was even.
“Clean basketball, remember, girls,” said Hilary earnestly to her team,
as they stretched flat on the floor to rest between halves. “Don’t lose
your heads and we’ll beat ’em yet. Team work is the thing, Ethel’s lost
her head already and is mad. Look out for some mean tricks. But they
won’t do any good. We’ve got a keen referee, all rightee, and she sees
everything. Did you see how she caught up Ethel that time? My, she was
sharp! I’d hate to be spoken to like that!”
The last half was close and fast. The Juniors took their Captain’s
advice and played eagerly, but with judgment. Juliet and Pauline seemed
inspired. Pauline, guarding the Senior captain, jumped up before her and
catching the ball before the surprised Senior realized what had
happened, sent it flying to Hilary, who once more tossed it in the
Junior basket. Two or three of the Seniors lost their temper. Several
fouls worked to the advantage of the Juniors again. The score rose in
favor of the Juniors and the game ended with a score of 12 to 8 in their
favor.
The victory was hard won but highly satisfactory,—to the Juniors!
Hilary, flushed and tired, but happy, received congratulations, The
Juniors with songs and cheers gathered around the team which had won
them glory. Cathalina radiated joy as much for Hilary’s sake as for the
honor of her class. “You certainly can play basketball, Hilary,” said
Isabel, slapping Hilary on the shoulder as a boy might have done. “Now
do your level best and maybe we can beat the Senior Collegiates!”
Hilary shook her head doubtfully, but answered with a bright smile,
“We’ll play so the Prep classes won’t be ashamed of us anyway!”
But alas for the hopes of prepdom! No team had ever beaten this Senior
Collegiate team on its way through Greycliff, and history was repeated
when the last games took place a week later. To the joy of the Academy
classes, however, the game between “Junior A” and “Senior C” was a close
one. Both teams were in fine training and exhibited a spirit of fair
play; but the upper class bore off the honors.
“I surely would have been mortified if those Preps had beaten us, and,
honestly, once I was almost afraid of it!” Thus spoke the exhausted but
victorious captain, who lay stretched on the floor to recover after the
game. One girl was being rubbed with camphor, another was applying
arnica to a big bump and a third was having a sprain investigated, while
Miss Randolph, with contracted brow, came over to join the gymnasium
teacher and see what were the injuries of her athletes.
To a few of her teachers Miss Randolph relieved her feelings as they all
walked back to Greycliff Hall, picking their way carefully over the ice
and snow that had formed or fallen too rapidly for removal from the
walks.
“I do not and never shall approve of these competitive games before the
whole school! Practice games are well enough, but the girls get so
excited that they will ‘do or die,’ as one of their ridiculous songs
says!” Miss Randolph’s laugh almost belied the severity of her remarks.
“‘Vitamque volunt pro laude pacisci,’” quoted the classic Dr. Carver,
whose blood seldom warmed over athletics of any sort.
“That is their spirit,” assented Miss Randolph. “I’m always afraid of
some calamity, but so far we have escaped. I feel responsible for the
girls. However, none of them are allowed to go into anything without the
consent of their parents.”
“Not much can happen in basketball, can there?”
“No, but I am always afraid of the bruises and strains and sometimes
they fall so hard and strike their heads. Perhaps the athletic craze is
more wholesome than some others, but we endure and are thankful when
every tournament is past. And, indeed it seems to me, if school or
college life is to foster any refinement of speech or manner in our
girls, something will have to be done about these performances.”
As it happened, fate was kind to Miss Randolph and her old-school ideas.
To the great disappointment of both schools, the Highlanders had an
epidemic of measles, “measly things”, as Isabel said, and arrangements
for the competitive games were completely broken off. But to relieve the
general feeling of disappointment they were promised some kind of an
affair together, when all danger of infection was past. It might be a
picnic, a masquerade, nobody knew just what. “And _next_ year, girls,”
said Eloise, impressively, “we can go with the Collegiates over to see
the athletic carnival at the military school?”
“How do you know, Elo’?” asked Cathalina.
“The Academy Seniors are supposed to have enough sense to accompany the
distinguished Collegiates! They have a _wonderful_ time, they say,—met
by the boys in their uniforms, of course, escorted around to all the
doings and if you know anybody there you can even _see_ him! There are
plenty of teachers along, of course.”
“My, I wish Phil were that near!” exclaimed Cathalina, with a homesick
pang. “It it a real grown-up school? He isn’t going back to the same
school, perhaps, next year, is just trying a new school this year, but
he will be in college work, I guess.”
“Don’t you _know_?” asked Hilary is some surprise.
“Poor Hilary. Haven’t you learned yet, Hilary, that I’m just beginning
to pay attention to school things?”
“Sure enough. But they’re interesting, aren’t they?”
“Fairly so,” replied Cathalina with a twinkle.