"NOT PLAYING THE GAME!"
Irene had the traditional quick temper which accompanies red hair.
On being released she made a bee-line for Monica's study, but, as was
to be expected, it was empty. For a minute or so she stood in the
middle of the little room, struggling to control the wave of anger
and indignation that shook her. Her gaze travelled slowly round the
room, passed over the dreadful notices that covered the walls, and
finally rested on a letter lying on the mantelpiece and addressed in
very black square handwriting to Miss M. Carr.
Irene picked it up and turned it over. The envelope had been torn
open and she could catch a glimpse of the letter inside, written in
the same black, square caligraphy. Till now, Irene, though of a
hot-tempered, rather jealous disposition, sometimes doing and saying
things in the heat of the moment which she afterwards regretted, had
never been tempted to do anything actually dishonest. She hesitated
as she turned the envelope over, but the temptation was overwhelming.
In another moment she had pulled out the letter, opened it and was
swiftly scanning the written lines:
"Dear Monica (it ran),
"You mustn't be surprised to hear from me, for I promised when you
left I would write, and when I heard you were at St. Etheldreda's
from one of the girls who has a young cousin there I just made up my
mind I would write straight away.
"How on earth did you get into a school like St. Etheldreda's? This
girl who has a cousin there says they are a dreadfully goody-goody
lot. Did they know you were expelled from Fairhurst? Couldn't have
done, I suppose. What a joke on them! Do write and tell me about
it. You ought, you know, for I was the only girl here who would chum
up with you. We were the two black sheep together, weren't we,
though I would never dare do half the naughty things you did quite
openly, for fear of being found out. Secretly I admired your
audacity and defiance enormously. I am in the Lower Fifth now, so I
have to be a lot more sedate and proper. People will soon begin to
think I am quite a model character. What form are you in?
"Do you realize we are still in the same county, and what is more our
schools are both competing for the Hockey Shield? If we both knock
out all the teams in our respective districts we may meet in the
Final. Doesn't that make you smile? I think St. Etheldreda's stands
a very good chance of winning that shield. You defeated Stavely High
School, I saw, and they are as good as any school in this county. We
played them in a friendly game a fortnight ago and only drew.
"Do you still hate rules and regulations and persons in authority as
much as ever? If you are the same as you were here, don't you think
it would be fun to put a little spoke in their wheel--I mean, in St.
Etheldreda's hopes of winning the shield? I know how clever you are
and how full of ideas always. I should love to see if you could pull
it off--I know I couldn't.
"Write and tell me what you think of this idea. Also please write
soon.
"Your one-time friend,
"Lilian."
Irene sniffed audibly as she finished reading. "What a precious pair
of correspondents!" she thought. Then once again temptation seized
her. Wasn't this document worth keeping? By showing it she could
also show up Monica Carr's character pretty thoroughly, should it
ever be necessary. As for its being a mean trick, hadn't Monica just
played the meanest of tricks upon her! Again the temptation proved
overwhelming. Irene slipped both the envelope and the letter into
her pocket and walked out of the room.
It was evening before the hockey team returned. When Nat pushed open
her study door, Monica was ensconsed comfortably in the wicker
easy-chair, for once neglecting her lesson books. She looked up as
Nat entered, threw her book on the table and inquired eagerly: "Well,
how did you get on? Did you win?"
Nat shut the door behind her and leaned her back against it. She
looked very big and strong in her sports' tunic. After a moment she
demanded in uncompromising tones: "Why did you lock Irene in her
study, so that she missed her train?"
Monica tossed back her short locks with a little defiant gesture that
was characteristic of her.
"To prevent her playing in the match, of course. I wanted you to get
a chance of playing, as you were the reserve. Did you play?"
"Yes, I played," replied Nat slowly, adding in a tone Monica had
never yet heard from her: "Did you expect me to thank you?"
Monica looked at her, startled. Never before had she seen
easy-going, sweet-tempered Nat look so coldly scornful and indignant.
"We wondered what on earth Miss Bennett wanted to see her for," Nat
continued. "We thought it such a shame when the train arrived and
there was still no sign of Irene, and we had to go on without her.
Deirdre told me I should have to play in her place. Naturally I was
pleased. Here was my opportunity at last, and I told myself I meant
to make the most of it. I played up with all my might and for once I
didn't distinguish myself by doing anything silly. We won
three--one, and two of our goals were scored by Madge off my centres.
"When it was over Allison told me that I had played up splendidly and
you can't think how pleased I was. I was patting myself on the back
all the way home. Then, when we got back to St. Etheldreda's there
was Irene ever so angry, with the story of being locked in by a
trick. She even thought, from something you said, that it was
planned between us so that I could get into the eleven. Luckily,
Allison and most of the others believed me when I said I knew nothing
about it.
"Do you think I felt so jubilant after that? Do you really think I
wanted to win a place in the eleven by making use of a mean trick
like that? I would rather a hundred times never have played. It
wasn't playing the game at all," Nat finished up, with a final
outburst of indignation.
Monica had made no attempt to interrupt her, nor did she speak when
Nat finished. She merely went slowly to the bookshelf and, taking
down several books and a bottle of ink, placed them on the table.
Her small, delicately-cut features were set in a hard, frozen look.
Nat's temper flared up in a final spurt.
"And I'm not going to hear you say your Latin verbs nor your Dick II,
so you needn't waste your breath asking me. I'm going to finish my
prep in Ida's study," and collecting the books she required, she
stumped out of the room with the air of one shaking its dust off her
feet. Left alone, Monica stared immovably at her lesson books for
quite five minutes; then, pushing them on one side, she returned to
her easy-chair.