Field Day arrived and with it the excitement known to any girl who has played in a big game of basket-ball.

“Oh, Polly, I’m so thrilled!” exclaimed Lois, putting her arm around her chum and dancing wildly down the corridor. “I’m glad my family isn’t coming.”

“So am I,” Polly answered, thinking of Bob. “If we could only get a chance to play!”

“Hush! I don’t even dare think of such a thing!”

“Well, I do, and I’ll bet anything that the big team girls can’t pass the ball as fast as you and Betty and I can.”

“They can’t. I watched last practice game and they made some dreadful mistakes with the signals. By the way, how is ‘it’ this morning?”

“Fine, Betty took some food to the cellar right after breakfast. The darling’s really getting fat.”

“Here comes Bet now. Oh, Betty, here we are!” Lois called as the third member of the trio appeared at the other end of the corridor.

“Thank goodness, I’ve found you,” Betty answered. “All substitutes are wanted in the gym. Louise is waiting for you; hurry up.”

The above conversation took place in Freshman Alley about ten o’clock in the morning. Throughout the entire school the game was the one subject that was being discussed. The girls had pinned the Seddon Hall colors on the fronts of their sailor suits, and the long green and white ribbons gave the required holiday effect.

In the gym the more ardent admirers of the team were busy with the decorations. The big Seddon Hall banner almost covered one end of the room and the other walls were hung with small school flags and streamers. Angela and Connie, both seated on the floor, were carefully polishing the handsome silver loving cup.

It was upon this scene of preparation that Betty, followed by Polly and Lois, entered.

“Here they are,” she announced to Louise who, with the rest of the team, was waiting for them at the other end of the gym. “I’ve found them at last.”

“That’s good; I guess we are all here now,” Louise replied. “I wanted to tell you that the Fenwick girls get here at 12.05. The teams and substitutes are all to have luncheon in the younger children’s dining-room. We will have to entertain them and show them around, of course, but, girls, don’t talk too much; remember, they may be trying to pump. I guess that’s all I wanted to say,” Louise finished, “except,” she added miserably, “to remind you all to do your very best for the honor of dear old Seddon Hall.”

“Of course we will!” shouted the team, and Madelaine Ames, jumping up from her seat, asked excitedly:

“Who’s the finest captain in the world?”

“Louise Preston,” came the hearty response.

Louise, to cover her confusion, called Betty to her and asked if “it” had been fed.

“Fed! It’s been stuffed,” Betty assured her. “But who has the bow for its neck?”

“I have it in my room,” answered Helen Reed. “If you’ll come with me I’ll give it to you.” And the two girls left the gym.

It had been decided that the big team should march into the gym first, followed by the substitutes, Betty leading the still mysterious mascot, and Polly and Lois carrying the huge Seddon Hall banner.

The girls left the gym to await the arrival of the visiting team after Louise had finished talking to them. At quarter past twelve they arrived, and at the first sound of the carry-all’s approach, the Seddon Hall girls started cheering, and Louise, as captain, stepped forward to welcome them.

Lois, Betty and Polly moved a little to one side in order to get a good look at their opponents.

“That girl’s a giant,” whispered Lois, pointing at one of the Fenwick girls. “I’ll bet she plays home.”

“Seems to me they are all giants,” Betty grumbled. “I suppose that’s their mascot in that basket; well, it can’t beat ours.”

“Why, there are only nine of them,” pointed out Polly excitedly. “That means only three ‘subs.’ What luck!”

“Come here, you three,” called Louise from the driveway. “Some more of our substitutes,” she explained as the trio shook hands all around.

As they all stood exchanging greetings, Mary Reeves whispered in Polly’s ear, as she pretended to fix her hair ribbon:

“It’s all over for us.”

The girls finally sauntered off in groups to inspect the gym and locker rooms or to look around the grounds. Polly, Lois, and Betty had undertaken to entertain the three visiting subs and were taking them in the direction of the woods.

“Have you a mascot?” asked one of them, a fair-haired girl of about fifteen.

Polly told her that they had, and then abruptly changed the subject by asking:

“Have you had to substitute often this year?”

“No, I haven’t, but May has,” answered the Fenwick sub.

“Do tell us about it,” Polly inquired.

May was only too anxious to have her turn in the conversation.

“It was just before Easter,” she began, “and we were playing the Whitehead team. I came in the second half; the score was a tie and we couldn’t make a point. The other team had a free throw on account of our foul and Jane—she’s our forward—told me to watch, and when she threw her braid over her right shoulder, to throw high. Well, I watched and did as she told me, and we made a goal.”

“How terribly exciting!” murmured Lois without changing a muscle of her face. “And you just won the game by a single point?”

“Yes, it was thrilling,” May agreed. “Of course if Esther hadn’t had to have gotten out of the game, we would have made more points; they know each other’s signals so well.”

“And signals make such a difference,” Betty remarked, giving Polly’s arm a surreptitious pinch.

Polly smiled in reply and in a few minutes excused herself.

“There is something rather important that I must attend to before luncheon,” she explained.

Fifteen minutes later, on her way to the dining-room she slipped a note into Louise’s hand.

“Read it when you are alone,” she whispered, and this is what Louise read:

“The two forwards signal with their braids. Over the right shoulder, means throw high. Tell Madelaine and Mary to watch.”

The game was scheduled to start at 3 o’clock sharp and by 2.30 the teams were all in their suits and the gym was filling up with the girls and the faculty. At the stroke of three the Fenwick team entered and marched to the opposite side of the gym, and came to a halt under a banner of yellow and white, their school colors. Two of their substitutes followed, carrying a white satin cushion on which sat a tortoise-shell cat with a big white bow on its neck. On close inspection it was discovered to have six toes on one paw, and was therefore very lucky.

As they entered, the Seddon Hall girls gave them a cheer and then sang the welcoming song, written by Angela for the occasion. There was just enough time for every one to quiet down before the home team appeared. Louise Preston led, carrying the ball, then came Florence Guile; they were the two forwards and were followed in turn by Mary Reeves and Madelaine Ames, the guards, and Grace Hampton and Alice Wentworth, the centers.

At sight of them the school set up a mighty cheer that stopped abruptly, however, as Betty, with a little brown monkey perched on her shoulder, entered, at the head of the substitutes.

The mysterious secret of the mascot was out. Seddon Hall had had many and varied animals for mascots in its time, but never before had a live monkey attended one of the Field Day games. It was fully ten minutes before the teams were able to take their places on the floor, so great was the school’s delight. Had the organ grinder who had lost his pet witnessed this scene he might have felt recompensed for his loss.

When at last Miss Stuart could command silence, she blew the whistle, tossed up the ball, and the game was on.

From the very first it seemed to Polly, Lois and Betty, watching from the side lines, that they must face defeat. After the first toss-up, the Fenwick center caught the ball, passed it up the floor to her forward, and before the Seddon Hall girls could realize it, a goal was won.

After three unsuccessful attempts to get the ball away from her opponent, Grace Hampton lost her nerve and started to cry. She was a good player when all went well, but once unnerved she was practically useless for the rest of the game.

In the middle of a scrimmage the ball rolled out of bounds, and Miss Stuart called time for a minute.

“Get ready to get in the game, Polly,” whispered Louise hurriedly. “You may be needed.”

Polly tore off her sweater and waited. The game, after the minute’s time was up, began again. Alice Wentworth played too hard in her attempt to support Grace and fouled for roughness. As the Fenwick forward prepared to throw for her basket, Louise asked to put in a substitute. Grace left the floor in tears and Polly took her place.

She played like a little fury for the rest of the first half, but to no purpose, for Alice Wentworth was now thoroughly wild and could give her no support.

“What is the matter with that girl?” groaned Betty, stamping with rage. “Can’t she understand a straight signal! Oh, if they’d only let me in!”

“I can’t do it all,” Polly cried desperately as she dived for the ball near the line where Lois and Betty sat.

“You’ve got to,” Lois answered. “How much longer will this half last?” she asked, turning to Betty.

“Long enough to leave no chance for us. Oh, Lo, they’ve made another basket!” And Betty wrung her hands in despair.

After a few minutes more of desperate struggling to keep the ball away from the other team, Miss Stuart blew the whistle, and the first half was over. The score was 5—0 in the Fenwick team’s favor.

The school cheered half-heartedly, and under Connie’s vigorous leadership, they sang to each member of the team in the vain hope of encouraging them. Polly was completely out of breath and Lois made her lie flat on her back and Betty forbid her talking.

After a doleful fifteen minutes the whistle blew again and the second half started. Up went the ball, and despite Polly’s frantic efforts to stop it, it flew straight in the direction of the wrong goal. The fact that Madelaine and Mary knew the Fenwick signals helped considerably, for they managed to keep them from getting some baskets which they might otherwise have made. The ball seemed to be always at their end of the floor.

To the girls on the side lines it looked hopeless, when suddenly things began to happen. Alice fouled three times for roughness and was put out of the game.

“Thank goodness,” Polly whispered as Betty took her place. “Don’t forget the old signals.”

Up went the ball again, but when it came down, it was in Polly’s hands. A cry went up from the school. Betty raised her arm and put up two fingers, and Polly threw her the ball, low, swift, and straight as a die. Betty bounced it to the line and threw high to Florence, who, as she afterwards declared, was dreaming, for the ball struck her full on the nose, and in a second her handkerchief was covered with blood.

Time was called and although Florence insisted that she would be all right in a minute, Miss King made her leave the floor. Louise called Lois to take her place.

“Now to show them some real playing,” Betty exclaimed excitedly.

From the second the ball touched Polly’s hands after the toss-up until, by a few swift passes, Louise had thrown it in the basket, the Fenwick team never had a chance at it. It sped like lightning from Polly to Betty, to Lois, to Louise. Seddon Hall had never seen such passing, and the girls showed their appreciation by prolonged cheers.

Time after time they repeated the same thing. Without doubt they had found themselves, and the Fenwick team seemed powerless to stop them.

“Yi! That’s the way to do it!” shouted Betty as Louise made her fifth basket and the Fenwick captain asked to put in a substitute for center. But substitutes were of no avail; nothing could stop the Seddon Hall team. Once in a while the ball would trickle towards one of the Fenwick forwards, only to be batted back by Mary or Madelaine into Polly’s or Betty’s waiting hands. Once there, it was but a few swift passes, and Louise would throw it triumphantly into the basket.

Not one goal could the other team make after the first half, and when at last the game ended, the score was 9—5 in Seddon Hall’s favor.

When the final whistle blew there was a mad rush, and the girls on the team were hoisted high on the shoulders of the delighted school. Some one threw the big green and white banner around Louise and put the rather frightened mascot into her arms, and singing and cheering wildly, they carried her to the other end of the gym before the table whereon the silver cup had been placed.

Polly, Lois and Betty escaped as soon as the excited girls would let them, and jumping out of their gym suits they met, a few minutes later, in Roman Alley.

“Oh, but that was a game!” gloated Betty. “Why did it ever end!”

“I nearly died of joy when you came in,” Polly exclaimed. “And when Lo took Florence’s place, well—” But Polly could find no words to express her feelings.

“I’ll bet those Fenwick girls had the surprise of their lives. I heard Nora Peters rubbing it in to her friend that wrote her that letter. And as for mascots, wasn’t their cat stupid when compared to our darling?” Lois demanded gleefully.

“Oh, there you are!” called Louise’s voice from the top of the stairs. “Make room for us,” she added as she came down, followed by Mary and Madelaine.

“We were just talking about the game, naturally,” explained Lois. “You certainly can make baskets, O mighty Captain,” she added, bowing low before Louise.

“I?” questioned Louise. “You know very well I had nothing to do with the game. You three saved the day; how am I going to thank you?”

“It was certainly a relief when you came in,” sighed Madelaine. “Mary and I were almost all in.”

“I’d given the game up for lost,” Louise continued, putting her arm around Polly and Lois and smiling gratefully at Betty, “until you started those wonderful passes. You must have done an awful amount of practicing that I didn’t dream of,” she added.

The three girls looked at one another and grinned foolishly, and Betty said:

“Certainly not!’

“Wasn’t that a wonderful catch Mary made?” asked Lois.

“Yes; but did you see the high one Florence stopped?”

“Poor old Florence; how’s her nose?”

“That Fenwick center almost killed me.”

And a thousand other questions were asked and answered, and to the splash, splash of the water as it ran in their tubs, the victorious team played the game over again in words.