To both Cathalina and Hilary the days in New York, with the circle of lively young friends flew fast. After more than a week of unadulterated good times, Hilary found herself homeward bound in charge of Mr. Martin Van Buskirk, who was off on another business trip for his firm. They followed a brief visit with the dear home people who were unselfishly glad for all the good times which were coming Hilary’s way. Little Mary sat solemnly listening, holding the big “New York dollie” which Mrs. Van Buskirk had sent her, and enjoying all the stories about the little Charlotte, some of whose escapades Hilary omitted to tell lest her small sister be influenced to like performances. Gordon and Tom were as interested in the New York boys, and June could not hear enough about the beautiful home, the Christmas tree and the places which her sister had seen, in and about New York.

Cathalina and her family had the intimate little visit together which would carry them over the hours of separation ahead. Aunt Katherine was delighted at the result of Cathalina’s adventure into a girls’ school and wanted to hear first hand from Cathalina all about Miss Randolph, the school and the girls.

But in no time at all, it seemed, school days at Greycliff had begun and both Cathalina and Hilary were hard at work, Hilary whipping her team into shape for the tournaments. All the Junior girls were interested and loyal. The team was a strong one and had high hopes.

On a frosty night in February, the big “gym”, lit up with brilliant electric lights and gay with banners, afforded to Greycliff girls and their visitors a fascinating scene. Girls, girls, girls, and girls again, came laughing, talking excitedly, each expectant of glory for her own class team. The older girls were there, too, to see which team would win the privilege of playing against their winning team and to note how they played.

Each class had its allotted seats, its song and “yell” leaders, as in the colleges, each applauding the others’ efforts, but trying to outstrip every other in originality or noise. No one sat still, but all were bobbing up or down, this way or that.

Now the Seniors led off, “Seniors ’rah, Seniors ’rah! Greycliff!” The Sophomores broke into a jolly song and were followed by the Freshmen, who brought down the house by their shrill singing and desperate efforts.

O, we’re the little Freshmen,
So young and fresh and gay;
And when we all
Play basketball,
We bear the prize away!
We’ve never been defeated;
We’ve brains and skill and ‘pep’;
Just let us play
By night or day,
And watch us make the ‘rep’!

Avalon, in green sweater and cap, led the singing, completely transformed from the homesick girl Cathalina first knew. Isabel, with characteristic energy, led the fierce yell, “Br-rr-rr-ah-zoom! zoom! Freshmen!” Isabel looked funny enough, stooping to the ground as she had seen her brothers do, carrying the “Br-rr” along as in her two hands and waving her arms wildly on “Freshmen!”

Cathalina joined in the literally violent applause given the Freshmen and bid fair to become as crazy as the rest. She had written a song for the Juniors and was anxious to hear how it would sound.

Like the rest, the Junior song leader was excited and marshalled her forces with much enthusiasm. “Now put some ‘pep’ into it, girls,” she cried, “ready,—sing!”

Greycliff Juniors bold are we,
Strong and hearty as you see;
Baskets?—we can make them all,
When our team plays basketball!
Run and go,
Catch each throw,
’Rah-rah, Juniors! Greycliff Hall!
Don’t you wish you had our team?
Watch them when they get up steam!
Juliet’s swift and can not fall;
You can never budge old Paul!
Yells and din,
Juniors win!
Junior ’Cademy! Greycliff Hall!

“Imagine the elegant Cathalina making up a song like that when she first came to Greycliff!” Isabel had said, and Cathalina did not more than half like it, though Isabel’s intentions were entirely complimentary, as Cathalina knew.

One small section of seats held the lady teachers. The “Gym” teacher was walking here and there, talking occasionally to the referee. The latter was a fine looking girl, lithe and tall, with blonde hair braided and wrapped tightly around her head. Blouse, bloomers and stockings were of black silk and she was the embodiment of grace and swiftness as she blew her whistle and ran hither and yon after the game commenced.

By lot it was determined that the Juniors were to play the Sophomores and the Freshmen the Seniors, an arrangement which was hard on the Freshmen because their defeat was so immediate and crushing. It was humiliating, also, in point of score. The contest between the Sophomores and Juniors was more even, and accordingly more interesting; but the Juniors won, and at the last ran up quite a score.

Then came the most exciting contest of all, between the two winning teams, Junior and Senior Academy. Teams and classes were quivering with expectation. The Junior team expected victory, but knew that it must be hard won if won at all. “It helps a lot, girls,” said Hilary, “to think you can beat ’em if you try hard enough. I just feel in my bones that we can,—now shall we do it?” The Seniors were alive to the disgrace of being beaten by a younger class, and knowing that the Junior team was a strong one, they prepared for a struggle.

The referee blew her whistle. She tossed the ball and the two centers jumped eagerly. At once it became the property of the Senior girls, whose guarding was fine and determination desperate. Not a chance did the Juniors have until the Seniors had made two baskets amid shrieks of delight from Senior “rooters” and the encouraging yells of Juniors to their team. Then the tide turned for a time. A Senior girl fumbled and the ball was Hilary’s, who played left forward. A quick and accurate toss put it through the basket, while Juniors this time shrieked and applauded. In the next play Juliet caught the ball and tossed it over her head,—to come down through the basket! Four baskets the Juniors made in the midst of wild applause or breathless moments of anxiety. A close struggle followed, each side striving to gain the advantage.

In unwise partisanship, a Senior girl was guilty of a foul, and Hilary was called out to try for the basket. Silence reigned while Captain Hilary stood facing the basket with the ball between her hands. She measured the distance and with an easy lift tossed the ball straight above the basket, through which it dropped to the floor. Senior successes followed, and at the end of the first half the score was even.

“Clean basketball, remember, girls,” said Hilary earnestly to her team, as they stretched flat on the floor to rest between halves. “Don’t lose your heads and we’ll beat ’em yet. Team work is the thing, Ethel’s lost her head already and is mad. Look out for some mean tricks. But they won’t do any good. We’ve got a keen referee, all rightee, and she sees everything. Did you see how she caught up Ethel that time? My, she was sharp! I’d hate to be spoken to like that!”

The last half was close and fast. The Juniors took their Captain’s advice and played eagerly, but with judgment. Juliet and Pauline seemed inspired. Pauline, guarding the Senior captain, jumped up before her and catching the ball before the surprised Senior realized what had happened, sent it flying to Hilary, who once more tossed it in the Junior basket. Two or three of the Seniors lost their temper. Several fouls worked to the advantage of the Juniors again. The score rose in favor of the Juniors and the game ended with a score of 12 to 8 in their favor.

The victory was hard won but highly satisfactory,—to the Juniors! Hilary, flushed and tired, but happy, received congratulations, The Juniors with songs and cheers gathered around the team which had won them glory. Cathalina radiated joy as much for Hilary’s sake as for the honor of her class. “You certainly can play basketball, Hilary,” said Isabel, slapping Hilary on the shoulder as a boy might have done. “Now do your level best and maybe we can beat the Senior Collegiates!”

Hilary shook her head doubtfully, but answered with a bright smile, “We’ll play so the Prep classes won’t be ashamed of us anyway!”

But alas for the hopes of prepdom! No team had ever beaten this Senior Collegiate team on its way through Greycliff, and history was repeated when the last games took place a week later. To the joy of the Academy classes, however, the game between “Junior A” and “Senior C” was a close one. Both teams were in fine training and exhibited a spirit of fair play; but the upper class bore off the honors.

“I surely would have been mortified if those Preps had beaten us, and, honestly, once I was almost afraid of it!” Thus spoke the exhausted but victorious captain, who lay stretched on the floor to recover after the game. One girl was being rubbed with camphor, another was applying arnica to a big bump and a third was having a sprain investigated, while Miss Randolph, with contracted brow, came over to join the gymnasium teacher and see what were the injuries of her athletes.

To a few of her teachers Miss Randolph relieved her feelings as they all walked back to Greycliff Hall, picking their way carefully over the ice and snow that had formed or fallen too rapidly for removal from the walks.

“I do not and never shall approve of these competitive games before the whole school! Practice games are well enough, but the girls get so excited that they will ‘do or die,’ as one of their ridiculous songs says!” Miss Randolph’s laugh almost belied the severity of her remarks.

“‘Vitamque volunt pro laude pacisci,’” quoted the classic Dr. Carver, whose blood seldom warmed over athletics of any sort.

“That is their spirit,” assented Miss Randolph. “I’m always afraid of some calamity, but so far we have escaped. I feel responsible for the girls. However, none of them are allowed to go into anything without the consent of their parents.”

“Not much can happen in basketball, can there?”

“No, but I am always afraid of the bruises and strains and sometimes they fall so hard and strike their heads. Perhaps the athletic craze is more wholesome than some others, but we endure and are thankful when every tournament is past. And, indeed it seems to me, if school or college life is to foster any refinement of speech or manner in our girls, something will have to be done about these performances.”

As it happened, fate was kind to Miss Randolph and her old-school ideas. To the great disappointment of both schools, the Highlanders had an epidemic of measles, “measly things”, as Isabel said, and arrangements for the competitive games were completely broken off. But to relieve the general feeling of disappointment they were promised some kind of an affair together, when all danger of infection was past. It might be a picnic, a masquerade, nobody knew just what. “And next year, girls,” said Eloise, impressively, “we can go with the Collegiates over to see the athletic carnival at the military school?”

“How do you know, Elo’?” asked Cathalina.

“The Academy Seniors are supposed to have enough sense to accompany the distinguished Collegiates! They have a wonderful time, they say,—met by the boys in their uniforms, of course, escorted around to all the doings and if you know anybody there you can even see him! There are plenty of teachers along, of course.”

“My, I wish Phil were that near!” exclaimed Cathalina, with a homesick pang. “It it a real grown-up school? He isn’t going back to the same school, perhaps, next year, is just trying a new school this year, but he will be in college work, I guess.”

“Don’t you know?” asked Hilary is some surprise.

“Poor Hilary. Haven’t you learned yet, Hilary, that I’m just beginning to pay attention to school things?”

“Sure enough. But they’re interesting, aren’t they?”

“Fairly so,” replied Cathalina with a twinkle.