Life went on in such a rush! It always did, but that was half the fun now, Betty thought. At home little was demanded of her except the regular little duties, given to each of the children and expected more by their father than their mother, though for her benefit.

Athletics started off with a boom, pep meetings, the new football team on the platform, the organization of the girls’ teams, all sorts of try-outs and some scheming. Alas, the seniors who had been on last year’s champion football team left such a hole that it was hard to fill with material good enough to make a winning team. And oh, how sad it was when a series of defeats made the championship out of the question for Lyon High. At least they must beat the Eagles, and the coach tried to prepare them for that almost final game. But no! Betty, who sat beside Louise Madison, loyal enough to see the great game of the year by her beloved high school, and they shook their heads sadly at each other as the time passed first with no score at all on either side for the first half, then with the Lions unable to “hold them” and the Eagles scoring both by forward passes and “straight football.” It was awful, Louise said, but “Maybe the Lions have it coming to them,” said Louise. “And it isn’t good for a high school to get too cocky. We’ve got about all the cups there are—so let the Eagle scream this time!”

It was so romantic! Here was Ted again, coming around to talk to Louise, and Louise, more flirtatious and self-conscious than she had been before University days, being just as charming as she could. But Ted paid just as much attention to Betty and was as gallant as ever to both of the girls. Lucia, also, came in for her share of attention, as she sat next to Betty in the big stadium and heard all the comments with the greatest interest or amusement as the case may be.

“Oh, your football is so exciting,” she said. “It makes me think of the bull fights in Spain!”

“Yes, and you used to have thumbs down in your Roman theatres, too,” mischievously added Ted.

“We have a big picture of the Coliseum at home,” said Peggy, behind Lucia, and Lucia turned to give Peggy a glance of amusement.

“We had lions, then,” she added.

“Lions, rah!” said Ted Dorrance, but the tiresome last plays were on now. Time was nearly up and there was no hope for the Lions, even if they should score. Lyon High rooters began to rise, wearily, and gather up rugs, cushions or newspapers to take their departure.

This game took place just a week before the final hockey matches between the classes. Lucia and Mathilde had “made” the hockey team. Betty had been hurt a little in the try-out, and Peggy insisted that Mathilde did it on purpose, but Betty refused to believe it and played happily on what they themselves called the “scrub team,” the team which played with its own team to prepare them for the contest, also to have able material on hand in case it was necessary or best to put in substitutes. Betty was always keen about whatever game she played, but she really cared for excellence in its proper sense only in swimming.

“Don’t worry, Kathryn,” she said to Gypsy. “Whether Mathilde intended that or not doesn’t matter, I’ll watch after this and somebody has to be on the second team, so why shouldn’t it be I? Moreover, I had everything to learn about hockey, after all, and I think Mathilde has played.”

“She said she has, but I don’t believe it. There’s favoritism. Mathilde for some reason stands in with one of the athletic teachers and I saw her talking with the others that day. I’m not going to tell you who she is, though. Do you mind?”

“I’d rather not know, though of course I’m curious. Tell me after the match!”

But all things considered, Betty began to want to do well. “Let’s beat the first team, girls,” she said to her girls just before the last practice game, and beat the first team they did, though scolded for it.

“Now don’t let the fact that the second team beat you discourage you at all, girls,” said the athletic teacher who had watched the game. “It was a close game and let it make you all the more careful against the other teams in your class contest. I’m not favoring one team more than another; but I want to encourage every one to do its very best.”

“The freshman team hasn’t had enough practice,” said Carolyn in the gym before the games. The girls were putting on their customary equipment and donning sweaters, for it was cold though clear outside, with the ground hard, yet free from snow. Unless it rained, the climate in which Lyon High rejoiced was good for outdoor sports almost until Christmas. “So I think that the freshmen will be out of it and the juniors and sophomores play against each other at the last. The seniors are too sure and they have some weak material. I’ve been watching their practice games.”

Carolyn was not playing, but “terribly interested,” she said. Many sophomore rooters were on hand when the games were played, and sure enough, it was the juniors against the sophomores at the last. Mathilde was hit by one of the hockey sticks early in the games and Betty took her place, much to Mathilde’s discomfiture. Her “hated rival” played along with the daughter of a countess, whose friendship Mathilde so much wanted to have for herself, and only for herself.

“Good, Betty,” said Lucia, when Betty was put in. “I’m sorry for Mathilde, but she makes so many wild plays and isn’t quick enough. Now let’s beat the juniors all to pieces, as you girls say!”

Fast and furiously went the game. The juniors expected to win, yet they were never taken unaware. It was a fair and excellent game, the athletic directors said, yet the sophomores did win and Lucia threw her arms around Betty after it was over. “I’m going to tell my uncle how you played, Betty!” she exclaimed. “I wanted Mother to come and see me do something, but she wouldn’t. She only hoped I wouldn’t get hurt and it wouldn’t turn out like the hike! How’s that for a mother that came over here on purpose to make an American out of me?”

“Did she, honestly, Lucia,” asked Betty, hugging Lucia in return.

“Of course she did and I like it now, only I shall always want my father, too.”

“Well, you write him that you were ‘the noblest Roman of them all,’ according to me, and I know!”

“I will, Betty,” and Lucia’s smile was a happy one. “Come on,” said she, “let’s go and comfort poor Mathilde.”

“That is dear of you, Lucia, and I would, only it would look too much like crowing over her because I was put in in her place. Besides, she’d be happier anyway for you to think of her—by yourself.”

Lucia’s dark eyes surveyed Betty thoughtfully. “You always think of everything, Betty. How do you do it? I like you, Betty Lee!” and Lucia turned to find Mathilde, who was limping away with a small group of sophomores.

“You’re pretty nice, yourself, Lucia,” Betty sent after her, and Lucia waved a deprecatory hand.