“Father, do you care if I’m on the squad, you know, in basketball?” asked Betty at breakfast one morning shortly after the Valentine party. She had not heard from Larry and was beginning to think it all a dream. It hadn’t happened!

“I’ll not be on the regular team, you understand, and I’m not likely to be called into the games at all, but the inter-class games are on now and the sophomores are too good, and, bless you, the little freshmen are amounting to a real menace!”

“A menace! That will never do,” said Mr. Lee.

“Hurray for the sophomores,” said Dick.

“I hope we beat you,” laughed Doris, “though it will be a sort of disgrace if this senior class doesn’t win. It’s always been good in athletics.”

“I am glad to see that you can look on both sides, Doris,” said Mrs. Lee.

“Oh, don’t give me credit for wanting Betty’s class to beat, Mother. I’d love to see the sophomores win!”

“It is a good thing Betty is going to the university next year,” laughed Mr. Lee.

“Oh—am I? I’m glad to hear it’s decided, Father,” spoke Betty. “I did want to go away, but I don’t now.”

“What has changed you?” quickly asked Doris. “Is it Ted’s or Chet’s being there?”

“Doris,” rebuked Mrs. Lee, who thought her daughter too pert in manner and her question too personal.

But Betty replied to her sister, “So far as I know, either may be going away. I understand that both of them expected to sample some other school, for the experience. But when they once start in here they get to liking it and make their friends and all. I think talking to Marcella Waite and her friends influenced me.”

Betty knew that Doris would not think of Larry in this connection.

Returning to the discussion on basketball, Betty told her father that one of the girls on the team was just down with mumps and another had a bad ankle. Her father asked her if she wanted to risk getting one, too, but Betty said that her playing was not likely and anyway no worse than the practice games that she was doing now a little.

“I was throwing the ball into baskets in the gym yesterday, Father, and they just begged me to help out, or be where I could legitimately be called on. Carolyn and Kathryn were both after me. And, Father, I’m not going to do a thing in the university but get my lessons, take music and swim!”

“Very well, then. I suppose you must. Vale. Cura ut valeas.”

This was her father’s frequent way of telling them, in the language of Cicero’s Letters, to take care of themselves. He excused himself and left the table, the sound of the car being taken from the garage reaching those left at table as soon as it was possible for Mr. Lee to get there. He was leaving early and the children could get to school by street car.

So it came about that Betty “sat on the side lines” during the last competitive games, when everybody was highly keyed. The seniors, in spite of losses, for another girl came down with mumps in the midst of events, were still eligible to win the contest when their last game was called. It reminded Betty of that other contest, when Mathilde almost succeeded in giving the game to Marcella’s team against whom they were playing. Mathilde was such a cheat. Whenever Betty was inclined to feel sorry for her marrying a boy with a taste for liquor so pronounced, she thought that Jack was not doing so much better. And Mathilde, though not on the team, was not far from Betty today in the familiar old “gym” where quite a crowd had gathered to see the last game that the seniors would play against any of the others. And it was the sophomores again, the class team that had done so well. There sat Doris, rooting for the sophomores, but waving her hand once in friendly fashion at her sister. But it was hard to keep to good sportsmanship. Besides, Betty had had enough successes!

The game was an eager one, tense. The seniors had the advantage of superior public poise, perhaps, and longer experience. The sophomores, however, were out to win. One senior girl finally, to Betty’s dismay, began to blunder and play badly, giving a big advantage to the sophomores, who needed no prompting in regard to taking it. Then the girl was taken out of the game and there was a consultation. Mathilde moved over to Betty’s side, where they were watching the game, and hoped that she would be called to take her place. “I just wanted to jump right up and take that ball!” cried Mathilde. “What made her so stupid?”

“I think she must be sick, Mathilde. Carolyn had her arm around her.” But Betty had felt the same way. Could they win now? They must! Then the championship game would be the last.

But the director was coming in their direction. Mathilde hopped up hopefully, but again was disappointed in having Betty chosen before her. Betty felt almost sorry, though she was in the mood to do anything—all to save the game. Ah, Betty could make baskets, and with Carolyn and Kathryn there!

Fast and furious went the last part of the game. Rooters called and gave the Lyon High cheers to encourage the players. The sophomore rooters grew quiet as the score began to pile up for the seniors. “Well, it begins to look as if we’d have to wait till next year to smite ’em in class contests,” sighed Doris to her chum.

“Never mind, if they do beat us this time, we’ll be the ones to play against them in the championship games unless we lose our next game with the freshies.”

Breathless and delighted with victory, Betty after distinguishing herself in brave help and rescue at an important juncture, talked it all over with Carolyn and Kathryn. “Oh, you girls are simply marvelous, the way you pass to each other!”

“Yes, and the way you got on to everything just as if you had been playing with, us all along!”

“I have, in spirit,” laughed Betty. “I’ve seen every game and noted every thing you did.”

Carolyn and Kathryn were forwards and had, indeed worked up a “system” as they declared to Betty, but that amounted only to an almost instinctive knowledge of each other’s probable action under the rules and suggestions of their coach. “Now if we just had you for captain,” laughed Carolyn, “we could play the whole game without anybody else! Don’t tell Gwen I said that, though. She’s great.”

“Wouldn’t that make an interesting game,” said Betty, “three on the floor!”

But Carolyn said that she was a true prophet when Gwen Penrose, senior captain, before the championship game came down with the prevalent and disgustingly childish disease. The ranks were decimated indeed and the other class was rejoicing. The other girls on the senior team were worried. They were all needed in their own particular duties. No one wanted to take the responsibility of being captain. Then with one accord, coach and girls decided that Betty could do it, and Betty, hesitatingly, said that she would try.

“You led a team to victory once, Betty—just do it again,” urged Kathryn.

“It’s a risk, girls, but then, somebody’s got to do it—only it should be one of the original second team.”

“The best ones are down with mumps, too, Betty, and it looks as if the fates have elected you to do the job.”

“Well,” Mickey Carlin told a sophomore boy, “if Betty Lee is captain of the senior team, it’s goodnight for your girls. She’s president of the G. A. A. anyhow, and seems to have a gift for leadership and any sort of athletics. But the mumps seems to be the seniors’ Waterloo. If Betty gets it, you may have hope.”

“She’s had ’em. Dick Lee said so,” replied the sophomore boy, grinning. “But I’ll not mention it to the girls.”

“You forget about Doris,” suggested Mickey. “I don’t want to mention anything else discouraging, but it isn’t impossible for the sophomores to get the mumps playing this way with the seniors, you know.”

“Forget it! Mumps, indeed!” But the next day he did not come to school. Mumps had struck even a sophomore.

Fortunately the little epidemic spread no farther, once recognized. Betty, neglecting other things temporarily, practiced basketball till the championship game, the center of so much interest, was on. Cool outwardly, but tense within and alert to every play, Betty as captain almost prayed for success. This year was her farewell to competitive athletics. Her mother, saying that she could not stand the excitement and hoped that Betty would not get hurt, refused to attend the game. Betty did not know whether she spoke in earnest or was joking; but the ticket she had for her mother she gave to Amy Lou, who had begged to go and was now in a state of high delight, saying that one of her school chums had a cousin on the squad and that she was to be taken over from school in an automobile, if she could only have an excuse to get out early.

That matter was attended to and Doris shook her finger at Amy Lou with a comical expression, asking her which team she “would root for.” “Will it be Betty’s class or mine?” she cried, shaking, her head to suggest dire consequences if Amy Lou chose Betty’s.

“Well, but Betty is playing,” decided Amy Lou on the spot.

The hour arrived and a game fast and furious was on, closely watched, well played by both sides. Never before had it seemed so difficult for any senior on the team to make a basket. The sophomores were “set against it,” said Doris Lee to Amy Lou and her friend, both of whom would ask questions at the most exciting moment!

Again swift passing and long shots were employed by the seniors. There was little scoring on either side till almost the last of the game. And then it was Betty, who at the last minute made another basket and gave the seniors what was necessary to win over the sophomores by one point!

Both teams were due for congratulations. “Now that was what we call a good game,” said Doris decidedly to Amy Lou. “Of course, whoever wins would like to win with a higher score, but it makes more excitement this way.”

“My oldest sister,” explained Amy Lou to her schoolmate, “is president of the G. A. A. and the best swimmer in school, that is, of the girls. That was her, captain of the senior team. She gets prizes and things, too.”

“I know all those girls on the team,” airily replied Amy Lou’s friend. “My cousin tells me about them. But I guess your sister is real good. I saw her make that basket at the end.”

“Betty can do anything she tries to do,” said loyal Amy Lou, more loyal than wise on some occasions. “She is going to see if I can’t come to the game the faculty has with the regular team. It’s terribly funny, always, and they have all sorts of stunts. The worst is getting Mother to let me get excused from school early.”

“Oh, that is never any trouble for me,” said the other child. “Sometimes they come for me and just take me to a movie.”

Amy Lou was rather envious at that statement and wondered what her parents would say if she repeated it at home.

“I’ll take you some time,” offered the child.

“Thank you, but I wouldn’t be allowed,” said Amy Lou. She had already expressed her thanks for the kindness of this trip.

Meantime a tired and excited Betty was receiving congratulations for the team and for herself. While Amy Lou went home with Doris, Betty took a plunge and shower and was carried off to Carolyn’s, for the Gwynne car was to call for Carolyn. They scarcely talked on the way and the only bit of energy shown by Carolyn that evening was when she called up to see if Betty could stay all night. It was one of those quiet, restful visits that Betty could have with Carolyn and that Carolyn enjoyed with her. She almost told Carolyn about Larry’s arranging with Marcella to be with her at supper that night of the party. But it might lead to other things and the only thing that Carolyn said about it was to comment on how nice it was of Marcella to put Betty with Larry.

“I always did think that Larry Waite was interested in you, Betty. ‘Always’ means last summer, of course. He must be four or five years older than you are. I imagine he must have asked Marcella to place him with you. She was telling me how his father depends on him. It seems the older brother went into the navy and is somewhere way off, in the Philippines, I imagine.”

Betty looked interested, responding by smiles and attention. “I never heard Marcella say,” she answered, “and Larry never spoke of it that I can remember.”

Betty’s memories of Larry were still too precious to be talked about, even with Carolyn. Perhaps she would have the promised letter soon. But if he made this trip for his father and had lessons to make up, he might not have time. That he would not forget, she was sure. It was different now.