“We’ll just let it go a while, Evelyn, and see. I didn’t promise _never_ to tell.”
On the bulletin board, as the girls went to breakfast, there had already been put up notices of a senior class meeting, a “short meeting” of the Whittier Society, and regular basket-ball practice.
“You will have to have some one else take the minutes, Cathalina,” said Hilary, “for I can’t miss the practice.”
“Of course not. My, I’m glad that you are playing this year, Hilary. Now we shall be sure to win the tournament. It was terrible that we lost that time when you did not play. Of course we can beat the academy classes and I’m not afraid of the juniors now. Do you remember how nearly we came to winning that first year?”
“Indeed I do. How we worked! This will be my last year to play, though. Oh, of course, little games, perhaps, but I mean in competitive games of any consequence. We are getting in pretty good trim. You ought to see Juliet and Pauline make baskets. They almost never miss, if they have any kind of a chance.”
“It is only a few days until the big affair comes off.”
“Yes,—that was one reason why I didn’t want to have any trouble about Louise. I want to keep fit. I don’t feel any too lively today after last night’s late hours.”
“Cut your last class this morning and take a little nap before lunch. I’ll wake you up.”
“Oh, no! I’ll get through all right. I’ll get to bed early.”
For the next few days basket-ball was the chief topic of conversation at Greycliff. All the teams were “getting into shape,” as they said, and all the other girls were watching practice or inquiring about it and trying to prove that their class had the best team in school. “Time will tell,” said Hilary. “I’m glad we have a referee that is so strict about the rules. If we win, it will be a real victory.” Hilary was captain again.
“I declare, I don’t know which class I want to win,” said Isabel. “Of course, I want my own class to beat, but here are all your Psyche Club and Whittier chums in the senior class. Class spirit, however, is the thing in the tournaments,—hurrah for the junior collegiates!”
“I remember your leading the yells, Isabel, for the junior academy class at our first tournament. It was too funny. Avalon led the singing. Who would have thought that such a little mouse as she seemed at first would be so lively? I suppose that the academy girls will make as much noise as we did.”