The balmy May afternoon saw the baseball game between the Freshmen and the Sophomores taking place on the athletic field behind Carver Hall. The players were most enthusiastic about this latest undertaking of theirs. It seemed most of the girls in the school had turned out to see this tussle between two feminine baseball teams and to hail the victor.

Janet, with supreme confidence in her own ability, had elected herself pitcher for the Freshmen. The girls had played several games and Janet had been pretty good, if not particularly brilliant. Carol, to support her pal, was catcher. Valerie was acting first baseman and Madge was shortstop. Their gymnastics teacher was the umpire and the Freshmen were sometimes suspicious of her friendly feeling toward the Sophomores. However, the nine Freshmen elected “Do or Die!” as their motto and went into the game with all the vigor and speed at their command.

But alas, the Sophomores were also good. They had experience added to their playing ability and for the first three innings scored four runs to the Freshmen’s one. Janet, finding herself up against excellent batting ability, became nervous. Her throws to the home plate were a little wild and two girls walked to base.

Carol met Janet halfway between the pitcher’s mound and the home plate where the next Sophomore stood swinging her bat.

“Are you good!” Carol scoffed. “I thought you were the world’s wonder woman pitcher. I’m beginning to believe you are the world’s worst.”

“That’s gratitude for you!” Janet sighed. “Here I nearly throw my arm out of joint and I get no credit from you.”

“I told you to throw them a little low for Agnes and you didn’t. You deliberately threw the ball at her bat. All she had to do was stand still and let it hit. It cost us another run.”

“So what?” Janet said wearily.

“Come on, toots, do your stuff,” Carol encouraged. “We’ve got to strike this girl out.”

The spectators chanted loudly and enthusiastically. Gale and Phyllis led the Freshmen rooting section in an uproarious cheer. They yelled with all the abandon of children on a spree.

Janet beamed upon the crowd and swung the ball.

“St-uh-rike one!”

Carol ran out and handed the ball to Janet.

“Swell, pal!” she declared.

Janet beamed again and threw the ball.

“St-uh-rike two!” The Instructor was having as much fun out of the game as the girls were.

Janet, concentrating on the batter before her, had momentarily forgotten the girls on first and second base. The Sophomore on second base was an adventurous soul and now she took advantage of the pitcher’s absorption to steal to third. Halfway there Janet saw her and threw the ball wildly to Madge, the short stop. The Sophomore dived for the base. The baseman received the ball from Madge while the Sophomore turned and dashed madly back toward second. The ball went again to Madge. The Sophomore tried once more for third base. The runner see-sawed back and forth until she was finally caught and pronounced out.

The Freshmen were jubilant, especially Janet and Carol. The pitcher returned to the work at hand and the batter-up was struck out.

The innings went on until the ninth. At that time the score stood twelve to ten in favor of the Sophomores. Janet had been relieved in the pitcher’s position by another Freshman. However, in the last inning she returned.

Somehow the Freshmen managed to keep the score the same. They did not let the Sophomores score again and the side retired. The Freshmen were at bat.

“I don’t like the wicked look in that pitcher’s eye,” Janet said as she stood beside Carol watching Valerie at bat.

“You probably won’t hit the ball either,” Carol pronounced sadly as Valerie struck out.

“Is that so?” Janet bristled with indignation. “Maybe I haven’t made a home run this game yet but I’ve been waiting for a crucial moment.”

“It looks like this is it,” Carol laughed. “There goes another one of our girls—out!” She sighed. “Ho, hum, we might as well give in. We need two runs, but we’ll never make them with only one more girl—and you are it.”

Janet frowned on her. “I’ll hit that ball if it is the last thing I do!”

Carol’s eyes twinkled as she watched Janet take her place before the catcher.

“She is angry,” Madge commented.

“I tried to make her mad,” Carol confessed. “When she is stirred up she plays much better.”

“St-uh-rike one!”

Carol made a wry face at Janet. The latter frowned more viciously and gripped the bat securely in both hands. Carol nudged Madge significantly.

“She is really cross now.”

The spectators were hushed. The game depended on Janet and what she did.

“St-uh-rike two!”

“Woe is me!” Carol murmured. “My psychology didn’t work.”

“She has one more chance,” Madge said. “If she only gets on base and then someone else makes a run——”

“Two runs to tie the score! It might as well be ten,” Carol said pessimistically.

“Look! Look!” Madge cried gleefully. “She did it! She socked that old ball way out——”

Janet had swung with all her strength and hit the ball squarely, sending it high into the air over second base. The Sophomore in her effort to get it overshot the mark and fumbled. Janet was away like a shot to first base, past first and safe on second!

“I hope I do as well,” Carol remarked.

She was the next batter up. The Freshmen were still howling with delight over Janet’s hit. The first was a foul ball. The second attempt Carol missed. But the third time! Like Janet, the necessity for action brought cool determination and steadied her. She hit the ball a resounding smack that sent it bounding along the third base line.

Janet was off to third base while Carol sped to first. Both girls were safe.

Now the game looked particularly bright for the Freshmen. With two girls on bases they had a good chance to even the score. But if one more was pronounced out the game was over and lost. Another Freshman stepped up to the home plate. She was nervous but determined.

Janet took several steps away from third base but kept a wary eye on the pitcher. She simply must get in and score! She looked at Carol.

Carol was edging away from the security of first base. The pitcher was looking at Carol. Janet went a little farther toward home. Carol suddenly dived toward second. The pitcher threw the ball to the second base. The baseman missed it and it bounded a few feet away. By the time the ball was secured Carol was safe on second base and Janet had stolen home.

The Freshmen fans were wild. They cheered lustily. Their team needed only one run to tie the score now!

The Sophomore pitcher seemed to have lost her grip on the situation. The Freshman at bat walked to first base. The next girl also walked. That forced Carol to third base. What a chance now to tie the score—even to win the game!

Carol watched the pitcher closely. She edged away from the base. The baseman followed. It all happened very suddenly. Carol in her exuberance and confidence in having stolen to second base once, thought she could do the same thing again. The pitcher was watching the strange motions of the girl at first base when Carol dived for the home plate. With lightning rapidity the pitcher whirled and tossed the ball. In a cloud of dust and cinders Carol slid into the catcher.

“Out!” the umpire said firmly, indisputably.

The Sophomores were jubilant, their team had won! The Freshmen were downcast, but they did their best to hide it.

“Of all the dizzy tricks——” Carol derided herself.

“You did great,” Janet defended surprisingly. “We gave them a thrill anyway.”

“But I had to spoil our big chance,” Carol wailed. “If I had only waited——”

“What’s the difference?” Valerie said gayly. “They only beat us by one point.”

“And I hit the ball,” Janet reminded her friend. “What did you say about my not being able to even see it?”

“I take it all back,” Carol said humbly. Then she bristled with indignation. “I think I was safe at home, and I also think the umpire was on the Sophomores’ side!”

“Tush!” Janet said. “Let’s change and join Gale and Phyl.”

For all of the other girls’ levity Carol was inconsolable. She felt responsible for the girls losing the game and even though they in no way chided her or scolded she blamed herself.

“It was the best ball game I ever saw,” Phyllis declared when they were all united on the East Campus Dormitory steps. “I never thought girls could play such good baseball.”

“You have no idea what we can do,” Janet told her condescendingly. “You should see us pull taffy.”

“Whoops! How exciting,” Madge laughed.

“Exciting or not, it is a good idea,” Janet said. She beamed upon Gale and Phyllis. “If you two sorority sisters could find a way to come up and see us tonight we might have a taffy pull.”

“We’ll be there,” Phyllis promised promptly. “Nothing could induce me to miss it.”

“See you tonight then,” Carol yawned. “I’m going to get some last minute studying in on my Geometry. Tomorrow is our final exam.”

The other four girls disappeared within the dormitory house while Gale and Phyllis strolled toward Happiness House in the afternoon sunset.

“Let’s go see White Star,” Phyllis proposed. “We have plenty of time before dinner.”

White Star was the mount in the stables which Phyllis had chosen for her own when she first started to ride two days before. She had long before visited the stables with the other girls and made friends with the black horse who had the white star on his forehead from which he got his name. She had ridden, too, that summer in Arizona but just two days ago had she begun her proper training at Briarhurst. Every day found her participating more and more in the activities which she had at first pursued when she came to college. Gale, too, did not need to act for Phyllis any more as president pro tem of the Freshman class. Phyllis was now able to attend to all the business in which she was involved.

There were no riding classes this afternoon and all the horses were in their stalls with only one groom on guard. White Star whinnied softly at the girls’ approach. He was a magnificent animal—sturdy, and his satiny coat was smooth and shiny. He nuzzled Phyllis’ shoulder with his soft nose.

“Get away, old softie,” she said smiling. “Want some sugar?”

Eagerly the horse thrust his nose into her hand and secured the white lump.

“Do you carry a supply of sugar with you?” Gale laughed. “Every time you come here you have some and White Star knows it. He would follow you back to the sorority house if he could get out.”

Phyllis rubbed White Star’s forehead.

“He is a great horse,” she said, “the only one I’ll ride here at school.” She brought forth another piece of sugar from her pocket. “That is the last!” she warned.

With a final pat for White Star the girls left the stall. The horse sent a soft whinny after them.

“The Dean is a lot more popular with the girls now than she was before, isn’t she?” Phyllis murmured. “The new organ in the chapel, these riding lessons—everything has won the girls over.”

It was true. The resentment against the Dean had miraculously faded with the realization that everything she planned was really for the benefit of the school and the girls there. All trouble had ceased with the departure of Miss Horton. Now Briarhurst was the most peaceful and harmonious spot in the world. But sometimes even the most blissful peace is rudely disturbed.