"I don't much care if the stuff in the gymnasium _was_ all cut up," she declared, to her single confidant, Lily Pendleton.
"Oh, Hester! Don't let them hear you say it!" cried her chum, who had heard some of the whispers against Hester, but had not dared repeat them to her chum for fear of an outbreak of the latter's unfortunate temper.
"What do I care for 'em?" returned Hester, and went off by herself.
Hester Grimes was not entirely happy. She would not admit it in her own soul, but she was lonely. Even Lily was not always at her beck and call as she once had been. To tell the truth, Lily Pendleton seemed suddenly to have "a terrible crush" on Prettyman Sweet.
"And goodness only knows what she sees in that freak to want to walk with him," muttered Hester, in retrospection.
Lily and Purt were pupils in the same dancing class and just at present dancing was "all the rage." Hester did not care for dancing--not even for the folk dancing that Mrs. Case taught the girls of Central High. She liked more vigorous exercises. She played a sharp game of tennis, played hockey well, was a good walker and runner, and liked basketball as well as she liked anything.
"And here these Miss Smarties and Mrs. Case want to put me off the team," thought Hester Grimes, walking down toward the athletic field and the gym. building after school that day.
There was little to go to the gym. for just now, with the fixtures cut up and broken. But Hester felt a curiosity to see the wreck. And there were other girls from Central High who seemed to feel the same. Some were ahead of her and some came after. They exclaimed and murmured and were angry or excited, as the case might be; but Hester mooned about in silence, and the only soul she spoke to in the building was Bill Jackway.
The latter looked very much worried. He was a steady, quiet, red-haired man, with pale blue eyes and a wandering expression of countenance at most times. But he was a good and careful worker and kept the athletic field in good shape and the gym. well swept and dusted.
Jackway had never been married; but his sister had married a man named Doyle and was now a widow with two children. When Jackway got an hour or two off from the gym. he went to see his sister, and played with the baby, Johnny. Johnny, who was a sturdy little fellow of three, had been brought to-day to see his uncle by his gangling big brother, Rufe Doyle. Rufe was a second edition of his uncle, Bill Jackway, without Bill's modicum of sense. A glance at Rufe told the pitiful story. As his Irish father had said, Rufe was "an innocent." But he loved Baby Johnny and took great care of him.