The low-ceilinged white-washed gym at Hilltop had originally been the store-room and the dairy. The rooms were thrown into one, and made an excellent gymnasium. A balcony ran around the sides for spectators, and the walls were lined with racks for dumb bells and other apparatus. Basket ball posts stood at either end, and hooked up to the ceiling were trapezes and bars.

Hilltop preferred to take its exercise out-of-doors, but the gym was a very good substitute in bad weather.

It was nearing the Christmas holidays, the most exciting time of the year. Teams were chosen and new members were elected to the various clubs.

Because of the unusually cold and rainy weather, the archery target had been brought in and put up in the gym. A soft, small mesh curtain hung behind it to catch stray arrows. The bows were piled up along the wall, and the arrows kept a neat pile beside them.

“It looks stuffy to me,” Sally complained. “I never shot indoors and I don’t think I’m going to like it.”

Janet eyed the arrangements critically.

“Oh, well, it will have the same effect on everybody,” she said. “And seriously, Sally, you know we haven’t a chance. There are loads of girls up for election.”

“I know and we’re only Sophs,” Sally agreed. “Still I can’t give up hope.”

“But Sally, there are only ten to be chosen, six regulars and four subs,” Janet reminded her. “Why, we haven’t a chance. There’s always next year though, and the blessed year after. You’ll be captain of sports then.”

“I will not, you will be. I decided that ages ago. Phil is to be president of the Dramatics, and Daphne of the class.”

Janet eyed her affectionately. “And what are you going to be when you have disposed of the rest of us?”

“Oh, guide, philosopher and friend to you all,” Sally laughed. “Then I can have my finger in every pie.”

“That’s the way our four does things anyway,” Janet laughed. They always spoke of themselves as “our four” since Daphne had happily thought of the name. The rest of the girls, old and young, looked on in approval. A school is apt to be proud of its close friendships.

Ann, Prue and Gladys, in imitation, called themselves “We and Co.,” and the school smiled and approved again.

The Red Twins came in and put an end to further discussion. They had recovered long since from their attack of measles and they had returned from the Infirmary very chastened in spirit—as Sally said, “the spirit of Hilltop was beginning to work.” They were still too serious about every competition they entered, and they had not grown any fonder of each other during their illness.

It was the rules of the contest that everyone must use the regulation bows. The Twins had their own special make that they practiced with, preferring them in a superior way to the ones the school supplied.

They had them with them now and Sally and Janet stopped to admire them.

“Don’t you think it mean we can’t use them in the contest?” Bess asked in aggrieved tones.

“No, I don’t, it would hardly be fair. You wouldn’t want an advantage, would you?” Sally replied.

“I don’t see why not,” May said sulkily. “If we can have them, then we’re lucky and we ought to benefit by our luck.”

Janet and Sally did not bother to reply. They left the gym and climbed the steep back stairs.

“The more I see of those girls, the more I detest them,” Janet said with feeling.

“I know,” Sally agreed. “I begin to think they are possible and improving, and then they say a thing like that.”

“Hopeless,” Janet announced, and the Red Twins were discarded as unfit for further conversation.

“Hello, you two!” Daphne called from the door of the library as they passed. They went in and found Phyllis with her nose in a copy of the Merchant of Venice.

“Down looking at your miniature, Taffy?” Sally teased.

“I am not, indeed; I’m trying to learn Little Ellie by Mrs. Browning,” Daphne protested. “It is a lovely thing,” she added, turning to Janet.

“I knew you’d love it,” Janet’s eyes glowed with enthusiasm. “I wanted Phyllis to learn it but she stuck to ‘the Quality of Mercy Is Not Strained,’ and I don’t know that I blame her, it’s so beautiful.”

“And short,” Phyllis added, putting down the book. Sally went over and sat beside her and she slipped her arm about her neck.

“Tell us again, Sally, just what happens this afternoon,” she said.

“At two o’clock the gong sounds,” Sally began, “and everybody troops to the gym. There’s a game of basket ball first. Every girl who is eligible gets a chance to play. After that comes the archery practice. We shoot, the same as we did on Archery Day, that is, all the eligible girls. Then there’s the jumping and pole vaulting and the drill. Then cold tubs, supper, and the Dramatic Club girls recite in the evening. After that a dance and refreshments.”

“But when do we know?” Phyllis insisted.

“Tonight when we go to our rooms. If we are the lucky ones we find notes under our pillows.”

“My, I mean your Aunt Jane’s Poll-parrot!” Janet exclaimed, “I wish it were over.”

“So do I. The suspense is awful. Of course we all have a chance, but it’s such a little one.”

“My hand is so shakey now that I’ll never be able even to lift my bow, let alone string it,” Janet complained laughingly.

“Well, never mind, darling, your twin will probably get up and forget every line she ever knew,” Phyllis comforted.

“Let’s go out for a walk, and don’t let’s talk about it,” Daphne suggested suddenly. “I had a letter from mother today,” she began, and until lunch time they discussed home plans, for this was the last Saturday before the holidays.

At two o’clock they went to the gym.

The basket ball game was long and uninteresting. The New Wing supplied most of the players, and it looked as if they would be the final winners of the cup.

Then came the Archery Contest. Once more Janet beat the Red Twins. The change of bows hurt their form. It was never necessary to do it again. Sally’s luck held, and she made a very good score, but there were so many girls, Juniors and Seniors competing, that neither Janet nor Sally felt at all hopeful.

At dinner there was a quiet lull over the dining-room. Hilltop insisted that her girls be good losers above everything else, and there was very little grumbling, but every girl tonight was busy with her own thoughts.

At last the recitations came. Girl after girl stood on the stage in the ballroom and recited lines from Shakespeare.

Not until Phyllis stood quietly before them, were they conscious of a personality. She said Portia’s famous speech simply, but with understanding. She made the girls listen, and when she finished they gave her her just dues.

Daphne followed her, and as she told the story of Little Ellie, Janet felt again the spell of the Enchanted Kingdom.

Daphne’s beauty always called forth instant appreciation from her school-mates, and tonight they were more than generous in their applause.

Dancing ended the evening, but tonight there was no lingering after sweet dreams had chimed out bed-time.

The girls hurried to their rooms.

Janet and Phyllis stood and looked at each other, and then dived under their pillows.

Only Janet found a note. She opened it listlessly. What was the fun if Phyllis had missed out? She read that she was duly elected to the Archery Team.

“Oh, Phil!” she whispered, as she dropped her note carelessly, but she did not have time to finish, before Sally and Daphne rushed in, both flourishing notes. They stopped aghast at the sight of the Twins.

Phyllis managed a very little smile.

“Congratulations,” she said.

“Phil, do you mean?” Daphne demanded and poor Phyllis nodded.

Ann and Prue and Gladys came dancing in. Gladys had made the Archery Team as a substitute.

They stopped, too shocked and surprised at the news of Phyllis’s failure.

“But you deserved it, Phil,” Ann insisted.

“Nonsense, I did no such thing. You don’t deserve things just because you want them,” Phyllis replied. “Goodness me, I’ve enough joy in your good luck to last me a life-time. So do forget about me.”

“What’s that?” Gladys demanded, and she swooped down under the bed and stood up with a note for Phyllis in her hand.

“It just fell down,” she cried. “Read it, Phil, quick!”

Phyllis read. She was a member of the Dramatic Club.

“Oh—oh, Jane!” was all she could find to say.