Betty Wales, Freshman

by Harriet Pyne Grove

  CHAPTER XV

  AT THE GREAT GAME

  "Well, I thought I'd seen some excitement before," declared Betty Wales,struggling to settle herself more comfortably on the scant ten squareinches of space allotted her by the surging, swaying mass of girlsbehind. "But I was mistaken. Even the rally was nothing to this. Helen,do you feel as if they'd push you under the railing?"

  "A little," laughed Helen, "but I don't suppose they could, do you?"

  "I guess not," said Betty hopefully, "but they might break my spine.They're actually sitting on me, and I haven't room to turn around andsee who's doing it. Oh, but isn't it fun!"

  The day of the great basket-ball game had come at last. A bare two hoursmore and the freshman team would either be celebrating its victory overthe sophomores, or bravely shouldering its defeat; and the college hadturned out _en masse_ to witness the struggle. The floor of thegymnasium was cleared, only Miss Andrews, the gym teacher, her assistantline-keepers and the ushers in white duck, with paper hats of green orpurple, being allowed on the field of battle. On the little stage at oneend of the hall sat the faculty, most of them manifesting theirpartisanship by the display of class-colors. The more popular supportersof the purple had been furnished with violets by their admirers, whilethe wearers of the green had American beauty roses--red being the juniorcolor--tied with great bows of green ribbon. The prize exhibit wasundoubtedly that of the enterprising young head of the chemistrydepartment, who carried an enormous bunch of vivid green carnations; butthe centre of interest was the president of the college, who of coursedisplayed impartially the colors of both sides.

  He divided interest with a sprightly little lady in a brilliant purplegown, whose arms were so full of violets and daffodils and purple andyellow ribbons that she looked like an animated flower bed. She smiledand nodded at the sophomore gallery from behind their floral tributes;and the freshmen watched her eagerly and wished she had worn the green.But of course she wouldn't; she had nothing but sophomore lit., and allher classes adored her.

  In the gallery were the students, seniors and sophomores on one side,juniors and freshmen on the other, packed in like sardines. The frontrow of them sat on the floor, dangling their feet over the edge of thebalcony--they had been warned at the gym classes of the day before tolook to their soles and their skirt braids. The next row kneeled andpeered over the shoulders of the first. The third row stood up and sawwhat it could. The others stood up and saw nothing, unless they werevery tall or had been lucky enough to secure a place on a stray chair ora radiator. The balcony railings and posts were draped with bunting, andin every hand waved banners and streamers, purple and yellow on oneside, red and green on the other.

  In the middle of each side were grouped the best singers of the classes,ready to lead the chorus in the songs which had been written for theoccasion to the music of popular tunes. These were supposed to take theplace of "yells," and cheers, both proscribed as verging upon theunwomanly. By rule the opposing factions sang in turn, but occasionally,quite by accident, both started at once, with deafening discords thatrocked the gallery, and caused the musical head of the German Departmentto stop her ears in agony.

  Most of the girls had been standing in line for an hour waiting for thegymnasium doors to open, but a few, like Betty and Helen, had hadreserved seat tickets given them by some one on the teams. Theseadmitted their fortunate holders by a back door ahead of the crowd. Allthe faculty seats were reserved, of course, and the occupants of themwere still coming in. As each appeared, he or she was met by a group ofushers and escorted ceremoniously across the floor, amid vigoroushand-clapping from the side whose colors were in evidence, and thesinging of a verse of "Balm of Gilead" adapted to the occasion. Most ofthese had been written beforehand and were now hastily "passed along"from a paper in the hands of the leader. The rhymes were execrable, butthat did not matter since almost nobody could understand them; and themain point was to come out strong on the chorus.

  "Oh, there's Miss Ferris!" cried Betty, "and she's wearing myro--goodness, she's half covered with roses. Helen, see that lovelygreen dragon pennant!"

  "Here's to our Miss Ferris, drink her down!"

  sang the freshman chorus.

  "Here's to our Miss Ferris, drink her down! Here's to our Miss Ferris, may she never, never perish! Drink her down, drink her down, drink her down, down, down!"

  Back by the door there was a sudden commotion, and the sophomore factionbroke out into tumultuous applause as a tall and stately gentlemanappeared carrying a "shower bouquet" of daffodils with a border andstreamers of violets.

  "Here's to Dr. Hinsdale, he's the finest man within hail! Drink him down, drink him down, drink him down, down, down!"

  sang the sophomores.

  "There is a team of great renown,"

  began the freshmen lustily. What did the sophomores mean by clapping so?Ah! Miss Andrews was opening a door.

  "They're coming!" cried Betty eagerly.

  "Only the sophomore subs," amended the junior next to her. "So pleasedon't stick your elbow into me."

  "Excuse me," said Betty hastily. "Oh Helen, there's Katherine!"

  Through the door at one side of the stage the freshman subs were coming,through the other the sophomores. Out on the floor of the gym they ran,all in their dark blue gym suits with green or purple stripes on theright sleeves, tossing their balls from hand to hand, throwing them intothe baskets, bouncing them adroitly out of one another's reach, tryingto appear as unconcerned as if a thousand people were not applaudingthem madly and singing songs about them and wondering which of themwould get a chance to play in the great game. In a moment a littlewhistle blew and the subs found their places on the edge of the stage,where they sat in a restive, eager row, each girl in readiness to takethe field the moment she should be needed.

  The door of the sophomore room opened again and the "real team" ran out.Then the gallery shook indeed! Even the freshmen cheered when the mascotappeared hand in hand with the captain. He was a dashing little Indianbrave in full panoply of war-paint, beads, and feathers, with fringedleggins and a real Navajo blanket. When he had finished his grand entry,which consisted of a war-dance, accompanied by ear-splitting war-whoops,he came to himself suddenly to find a thousand people staring at him,and he was somewhat appalled. He could not blush, for Mary Brooks hadstained his face and neck a beautiful brick-red, and he lacked thecourage to run away. So he waited, forlorn and uncomfortable, while thefreshman team rushed in, circling gaily about a diminutive knight inshining silver armor, with a green plume. He marched proudly, but withsome difficulty, for his helmet was down and his sword, which was muchtoo long for him, had an unbecoming tendency to trip him up. When hishesitating steps had brought him to the middle of the gymnasium, theknight, apparently perceiving the Indian for the first time, dropped hisencumbering sword and rushed at his rival with sudden vehemence andblood-curdling cries. The little Indian stared for a moment in blankamazement, then slipping off his blanket turned tail and ran, reachingthe door long before his sophomore supporters could stop him. The knightmeanwhile, left in full possession of the field, waited for a momentuntil the laughter and applause had died away into curiosity. Then,deliberately reaching up one gauntleted hand, he pulled off his helmet,and disclosed the saucy, freckled face of the popular son of a favoriteprofessor.

  He grinned cheerfully at the stage and the gallery, gallantly faced thejunior-freshman side, and waving his green plume aloft yelled, "Hip,hip, hurrah for the freshmen!" at the top of a pair of very stronglungs. Then he raced off to find the seat which had been the price ofhis performance between two of his devoted admirers on the sub team,while the gallery, regardless of meaningless prohibitions and forgetfulof class distinctions, cheered him to the echo.

  All of a sudden a businesslike air began to pervade the floor of thegymnasium. Somebody picked up the knight's sword and the Indian'sblanket, and Miss Andrews took her position under the gallery. Theushers crowded onto the steps of the stage
, and the members of theteams, who had gathered around their captains for a last hurriedconference, began to find their places.

  "Oh, I almost wished they'd sing for a while more," sighed Betty.

  "Do you?" answered Helen absently. She was leaning out over the iron barof the railing with her eyes glued to the smallest freshman centre."Why?"

  "Oh, it makes me feel so thrilled and the songs are so clever andamusing, and the mascots so funny."

  "Oh, yes," agreed Helen. "The things here are all like that, but I wantto see them play."

  "You mean you want to see her play," corrected Betty merrily. "I don'tbelieve you care for a single other thing but T. Reed. Where is she?"

  Helen pointed her out proudly.

  "Oh, what an awfully funny, thin little braid! Isn't she comical in hergym suit, anyway? You wouldn't think she could play at all, would you,she's so small."

  "But she can," said Helen stoutly.

  "Don't I know it? I guarded her once--that is, I tried to. She's aperfect wonder. See, there's Rachel up by our basket. Katherine saysshe's fine too. Helen, they're going to begin."

  The assistant gym teacher had the whistle now. She blew it shrilly."Play!" called Miss Andrews, and tossed the ball out over the heads ofthe waiting centres. A tall sophomore reached up confidently to grab it,but she found her hands empty. T. Reed had jumped at it and batted itoff sidewise. Then she had slipped under Cornelia Thompson's famous"perpetual motion" elbow, and was on hand to capture the ball again whenit bounced out from under a confused mass of homes and centres who werestruggling over it on the freshman line. The freshmen clapped riotously.The sophomores looked at each other. Freshman teams were always rattled,and "muffed" their plays just at first. What did this mean? Oh, well,the homes would miss it. They did, and the sophomores breathed again,but only for a moment. Then T. Reed jumped and the ball went poundingback toward the freshman basket. This time a home got it, passed itsuccessfully to Rachel, and Rachel poised it for an instant and sent itcleanly into the basket.

  The freshmen were shouting and thumping as if they had never heard thatit was unlady-like (and incidentally too great a strain on the crowdedgallery) to do so. Miss Andrews blew her whistle. "Either the game willstop or you must be less noisy," she commanded, and amid the ominoussilence that followed she threw the ball.

  This time T. Reed missed her jump, and the tall sophomore got the balland tossed it unerringly at Captain Marion Lawrence, who was playinghome on her team. She bounded it off in an unexpected direction and thenpassed it to a home nearer the basket, who on the second trial put itin. The sophomores clapped, but the freshmen smiled serenely. Their homehad done better, and they had T. Reed!

  The next ball went off to one side. In the scramble after it twoopposing centres grabbed it at once, and each claimed precedence. Thegame stopped while Miss Andrews and the line-men came up to hear theevidence. There was a breathless moment of indecision. Then Miss Andrewstook the ball and tossed up between the two contestants. But neither ofthem got it. Instead, T. Reed, slipping in between them, jumped for itagain, and quick as a flash sent it flying toward the freshman goal.There was another breathless moment. Could Rachel Morrison put it infrom that distance? No, it had fallen just short and the sophomoreguards were playing it along to the opposite end of the home space,possibly intending to---- Ah! a stalwart sophomore guard, bracingherself for the effort, had tossed it over the heads of the centresstraight across the gymnasium, and Marion Lawrence had it and wasworking toward the basket, meanwhile playing the ball back to a redhaired competent-looking girl whose gray eyes twinkled merrily as herthin, nervous hands closed unerringly and vice-like around the bigsphere. It was in the basket, and the freshmen's faces fell.

  "But maybe they've lost something on fouls," suggested Betty hopefully.

  "And T. Reed is just splendid," added Helen.

  Everybody was watching the gallant little centre now, but she watchedonly the ball. Back and forth, up and down the central field shefollowed it, slipping and sliding between the other players, nowbringing the ball down with a phenomenal quick spring, now picking it upfrom the floor, now catching it on the fly. The sophomore centres werebeginning to understand her methods, but it was all they could do tofrustrate her; they had no effort left for offensive tactics. Generallybecause of their superior practice and team play, the sophomores win theinter-class game, and they do it in the first half, when the frightenedfreshmen, overwhelmed by the terrors of their unaccustomed situation,let the goals mount up so fast that all they can hope to do in thesecond half is to lighten their defeat. What business had T. Reed to beso cool and collected? If she kept on, there was strong likelihood of afreshman victory. But she was so small, and Cornelia Thompson wasguarding her--Cornelia stuck like a burr, and the "perpetual motion"elbow had already circumvented T. Reed more than once.

  After a long and stubborn battle, the freshmen scored another point. Butin the next round the big sophomore guard repeated her splendid'crossboard play, and again Marion Lawrence caught the ball.

  Ah! Captain Lawrence is down, sliding heavily along the smooth floor;but in an instant she is up again, brushing the hair out of her eyeswith one hand and making a goal with the other.

  "Time!" calls Miss Andrews. "The goals are three to two, fouls notcounted."

  The line-men gather to compare notes on those. The teams hurry off totheir rooms, Captain Lawrence limping badly. The first half is finished.

  A little shivering sigh of relief swept over the audience. The front rowin the gallery struggled to its feet to rest, the back rows sat downsuddenly for the same purpose.

  "Oh, doesn't it feel good to stretch out," said Betty, pulling herselfup by the railing and drawing Helen after her. "Aren't you tired todeath sitting still?"

  "Why no, I don't think so," answered Helen vaguely. "It was so splendidthat I forgot."

  "So did I mostly, but I'm remembering good and hard now. I ache allover." She waved her hand gaily to Dorothy King, then caught MaryBrooks's eye across the hall and waved again. "T. Reed is a dandy," shesaid. "And Rachel was great. They were all great."

  "How do you suppose they feel now?" asked Helen, a note of awe in hervoice.

  "Tired," returned Betty promptly, "and thirsty, probably, andproud--awfully proud." She turned upon Helen suddenly. "Helen ChaseAdams, do you know I might have been down there with the subs. Katherinetold me this morning that it was nip and tuck between Marie Austin andme. If I'd tried harder--played an inch better--think of it, Helen, Imight have been down there too!"

  "I couldn't do anything like that," said Helen simply, "but next year Imean to write a song."

  Betty looked at her solemnly. "You probably will. You're a good hardworker, Helen. Isn't it queer," she went on, "we're not a bit alike, butthis game is making us feel the same way. I wonder if the others feel sotoo. Perhaps it's one reason why they have this game--to wake us all upand make us want to do something worth while."

  "Betty Wales," called Christy Mason from the floor below. Betty leanedover the railing. "Don't forget that you're coming to dinner to-night.We're going to serenade the team. They'll be dining at the Belden withMiss Andrews."

  Kate Denise joined her. She had never mentioned the afternoon inEleanor's room, but she took especial pains to be pleasant to Betty.

  "Hello, Betty Wales," she called up. "Isn't it fine? Don't you thinkwe'll win? Anyway Miss Andrews says it's the best game she ever saw."

  "Betty Wales," called Dorothy King from her leader's box, "come tovespers with me to-morrow."

  Betty met them all with friendly little nods and enthusiastic answers.Then she turned back to Helen. "It's funny, but I'm always interruptedwhen I'm trying to think," she said. "If there were six of me I think Imight be six successful persons. But as it is, I suppose I shall alwaysbe just 'that little Betty Wales' and have a splendid time."

  "That would be enough for most people," said Helen.

  "Oh, I hope not," said Betty soberly. "I don't amount to anything." She
slipped down into her place again. The teams were coming back.

  "See Laurie limp!"

  "Their other home--the one with the red hair--looks as fresh as a Maymorning."

  "Well, so does T. Reed."

  "We have a fighting chance yet."

  Thus the freshman gallery.

  But the second half opened with the rapid winning of three goals by thesophomores. Cornelia Thompson had evidently made up her mind that nobodyso small as T. Reed should get away from her and mar the reputation ofher famous "ever moving and ever present" elbow. The other freshmancentres were over-matched, and once Marion Lawrence and the red-hairedhome got the ball between them, a goal was practically a certainty.

  "Play!" called Miss Andrews for the fourth time.

  T. Reed's eyes flashed and her lips shut into a narrow determined line.Another freshman centre got the ball and passed it successfully to T.Reed, who gave it a pounding blow toward the freshman basket. Asophomore guard knocked it out of Rachel Morrison's hands, and it rolledon to the stage. There was a wild scuffle and the freshman balcony brokeinto tumultuous cheering, for a home who had missed all her previouschances had clutched it from under the president's chair and had scoredat last.

  A moment later she did it again. There was a pause while a freshmanguard was carried off with a twisted ankle and Katherine Kittredge ranto her place. Then the sophomores scored twice. Then the freshmen didlikewise. "Time!" called Miss Andrews sharply. The game was over.

  "Score!" shrieked the galleries.

  Then the freshmen bravely began to sing their team song,

  "There is a team of great renown."

  They were beaten, of course, but they were proud of that team.

  "The freshmen score one goal on fouls. Score, six to eight in favor ofthe purple," announced Miss Andrews after a moment. "And I want tosay----"

  It was unpardonably rude, but they could not help interrupting to cheer.

  "That I am proud of all the players. It was a splendid game," shefinished, when the thoughtful ones had hushed the rest.

  Then they cheered again. The sophomore team were carrying their captainaround the gym on their shoulders; the freshmen, gathered in a bravelittle group, were winking hard and cheering with the rest. The gallerywas emptying itself with incredible rapidity on to the floor. The stagewas watching, and wishing--some of it--that it could go down on thefloor and shriek and sing and be young and foolish generally.

  Betty and Helen ran down with the rest. "Helen," whispered Betty on theway, "I don't care what happens, I will, I will, I will make them singto me some day. Oh Helen, don't you love 19--, and aren't you proud ofit and of T. Reed?"

  At the foot of the stairs they met the three B's. "Come on, come on,"cried the three. "We're going to sing to the sophomores," and theyseized upon Betty and bore her off to the corner where the freshmen wereassembling. Left to herself Helen got into a nook by the door andwatched. It was queer how much fun it was to watch, lately.

  "Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatnessthrust upon them:"--she had read it in the library that morning and itkept running in her head. Was it selfish and conceited to want to beworth something to her college--to long to do something that would giveher a place among the girls? A month ago Theresa had stood with her highup on the bank and watched the current sweep by. Now she was in thestream; even Betty Wales envied her; she had "achieved greatness." Bettywanted to be sung to. Well, no doubt she would be, in spite of the"interruptions"; she was "born great." Helen aspired only to write asong to be sung. That wasn't very much, and she would try hard--Theresasaid it was all trying and caring--for she must somehow prove herselfworthy of the greatness that had been "thrust upon" her.

  Betty was in the centre of an excited group of freshmen. Christy Masonwas there too; probably they were planning for the serenade. "She won'tmind if I go," thought Helen. She would have liked to speak to Theresa,but she had delayed too long; the teams had disappeared. So she slippedout alone. There would be a long, quiet evening for theme work--forHelen had elected Mary's theme course at mid-years, though no one in theChapin house knew it.

  Betty did not get home till quarter of ten, and then she went straightoff to find Katherine and Rachel. "I came to see if there's anythingleft of Rachel," she said.

  "There's a big bump on my forehead," said Rachel, sitting up in bed witha faint smile. "I'm sure of that because it aches."

  "Poor lady!" Betty turned to Katherine. "You got your chance, didn'tyou? I felt it in my bones that you would. Wasn't it all splendid?"

  "Yes indeed," assented the contestants heartily.

  "It made me feel so energetic," Betty went on eagerly. "Of course I feltproud of you and of 19--, just as I did at the rally, but there wassomething else, too. You'll see me going at things next term the way T.Reed went at that ball."

  "You're one of the most energetic persons I know, as it is," saidRachel, smiling at her earnestness.

  "Yes," said Betty impatiently. "I fly around and make a great commotion,but I fritter away my time, because I forget to keep my eyes on theball. Why, I haven't done anything this year."

  Katherine pulled Betty down beside her on the couch. "Child, you've donea lot," she said. "We were just considering all you've done, andwondering why you weren't asked to usher to-day. You've sub-subed a lotand you know so many girls on the team and are such good friends withJean Eastman."

  To her consternation Betty felt a hot flush creeping up her neck andover her cheeks. It had been the one consolation in the trouble withEleanor that none of the Chapin house girls had asked any questions oreven appeared to notice that anything was wrong.

  "Oh, I don't know Miss Eastman much," she said quickly. "And as forsubstituting on the subs, that was a great privilege. That wasn'tanything to make me an usher for."

  "Well, all the other girls who did it much ushered," persistedKatherine. "Christy Mason and Kate Denise and that little Ruth Ford. Andyou'd have made such a stunning one."

  "Goosie!" said Betty, rising abruptly. "I know you girls want to go tobed. We'll talk it all over to-morrow."

  As she closed the door, Rachel and Katherine exchanged glances. "I toldyou there was trouble," said Katherine, "and mark my words, EleanorWatson is at the bottom of it somehow."

  "Don't let's notice it again, though," answered the considerate Rachel."She evidently doesn't want to tell us about it."

  Betty undressed almost in silence. Her exhilaration had left her all atonce and her ambition; life looked very complicated and unprofitable. Asshe went over to turn out the light, she noticed a sheet of paper, mucherased and interlined, on Helen's desk. "Have you begun your songalready?" she asked.

  "Oh, no, I wrote a theme," said Helen with what seemed needlessembarrassment. But the theme was a little verse called "Happiness." Shegot it back the next week heavily under-scored in red ink, and with asuccinct "Try prose," beneath it; but she was not discouraged. She hadhad one turn; she could afford to wait patiently for another, which, ifyou tried long enough and cared hard enough must come at last.