Daphne was the next up, after two more new wing girls had made creditable scores.

“She looks like Diana herself,” Miss Hull said, to the old gentleman who was sitting beside her, and indeed Daphne’s beauty never showed to such advantage, as when she stood beside her bow. But alas! looks are not everything. Although the beautiful curve of Daphne’s arm, covered by its sheer angel sleeve, was grace itself, the refractory arrows fell almost anywhere but on the target. Only one struck home, and marked the red.

“Three,” Prue wrote the number down slowly.

“What a pity!” Miss Hull said, but she noted Daphne’s cheerful little smile, and nodded to herself. “Sally Ladd has very good taste in friends,” she said, as her eyes traveled to the Twins, and then back to Daphne.

“Can’t say I made a very brilliant success,” Daphne was saying, and she threw herself down on the grass beside Janet.

“Well, one landed, and it was a red anyway,” Janet tried to be consoling.

“And that’s more than many of the new girls have made,” Sally added.

“I’ll be with you in a minute, Taffy,” Phyllis laughed. “Just wait until the Red Twins have had their turn.”

“Hush, here they come now,” Gladys cautioned.

A silence fell on the spectators as they awaited the victory of the new wing. Even the faculty felt it, and though they tried to be happy, they were conscious of a persistent little feeling of disappointment.

Bess Ward was the first one up. She shrugged her shoulders just to show she was not in the least nervous, then she strung her bow, struck a rather extravagant attitude, and loosed her first arrow.

She made a red. A faint cheer followed it.

The Red Twins were far from popular with their own wing, but anything or anybody that could enlarge the score was welcome.

“Not so good,” Ann said critically, as the second arrow glanced off and hit the white.

A slow red mounted to Bess’s cheek. She was angry, that unpardonable sin in any sport, and she showed it. The third arrow went to the blue. Bess forgot to shrug her shoulders. Her anger was steadily mounting, and the next two arrows followed each other to the red, making a total score of twelve.

Prue marked it down on the board very slowly, and very deliberately.

“Hope her twin does no better,” Gladys said. “But I suppose she will.”

“One of them has got to make a bulls-eye, after all their boasting,” Ann laughed. “Look, there she comes.”

May took her place at the tape. She was considerably sobered by her sister’s failure. She did not shrug her shoulders, but went to her bow with a dark scowl.

Her first arrow hit the blue. She stopped to readjust her bow, before fitting in the second arrow, but the blue claimed that as well. Really angry now, she shot the third with such a vicious whang, that the arrow glanced off to the white.

“Take your time,” her sister cautioned from the side line. Her tone held a note of resentment.

May pulled herself together, and took deliberate aim. Two blues were her award.

“Making a total of nine,” Prue said as she drew an extra long stem to the figure.

“Jan, if you go in, and get a half-way decent score, and Phyl does, too, we won’t be so badly licked after all,” Gladys said.

Janet nodded. There was a lump in her throat and she could not trust herself to speak.

“If I don’t stop trembling, my arrows will land over there among the faculty,” Phyl pointed to the right of the target, where the faculty sat out of range of any but the wildest shot.

Daphne looked at her, and saw that she really was trembling.

“Well, goodness knows I love all the faculty at Hilltop,” she said in her peculiar drawl. “But if you must shoot one of them, please choose Miss Jenks, for I haven’t my history prepared for tomorrow.”

The one thing that Phyllis needed was to laugh, and she did heartily, with the result that when she took her place at the tape, her nerves were steadied, and her thoughts were on Daphne’s last remark. She could see Miss Jenks out of the corner of her right eye. She hardly gave the target a thought, until her arrow was in her bow.

Her total score was five, for though she did some fancy shooting, around the legs of the target, only two of her arrows scored.

She came back to the girls, a little crestfallen.

“You mean thing!” Daphne said, “you made two more than I did.”

Phyllis smiled in spite of herself.

“It’s a secret, Taffy, but I’ll tell you,” she whispered. “That last one was a mistake.”

“Good luck, Jan!” Sally called softly, as Janet went out to take her place. Her silence seemed to envelope her as she stood facing the target, and the bow felt strange to her touch.

She had practiced a good deal during the past few weeks, but mindful of her brother Tom and the wisdom of her boy friends, she had rested for the past two days, content only to keep her hand in. In this she had the advantage of the Red Twins, who had practiced for two hours, before breakfast.

She felt as though she were taking a very long time, as she strung her bow, and fitted her first arrow, and then she shot.

She had aimed for the bulls-eye, but the grass under her feet, worn by so many tennis shoes, was slippery. Her heel twisted ever so slightly, and the arrow scored a red.

The girls shouted their appreciation, but before they could stop, another arrow had hit this time, just below the bulls-eye, making one above, and one below. Janet shifted her position ever so slightly, and a third arrow almost touched the bulls-eye on another side.

The fourth completed the square; then Janet did the most spectacular thing, done that afternoon. She scored a perfect bulls-eye. The school, united in its admiration, went wild with joy, and the old man, sitting beside Miss Hull, shouted, “Well done, little lady, well done!”

Janet was born high on the shoulders of the delighted girls, a happy, triumphant, but very much bewildered heroine.