FEBRUARY gave in to March, and Easter was approaching. Easter meant home and the spring vacation. But while this was almost as eagerly awaited as the Christmas holidays, there were many important events to happen before trunks were ready to be packed.
The week preceding the Easter vacation was the week of the interclass basket-ball games.
It was a bitter thing for Tommy to look forward to. She felt like the poor youngster outside a pastry cook's, without a penny in his pocket to satisfy his watering mouth. Tommy was out of it!
The reports from the practice games were far from encouraging. The Freshmen had been beaten in practice in two thirds of the games. Even their second team often beat them with shocking scores. And no one could close her eyes to the meaning of such facts. The Freshman team, though it had some fine individual material, was inexperienced. Tommy called it "simply rank."
"Fanny," she said to her roommate one evening, "what is the matter with you girls? I watched you playing to-night, and you had no more life in you than a wet dish rag!"
"That's it, dear," said Fanny. "We want some life put into us. Only Jennie MacArthur and Ruth Evans seem to have anything alive about them, and they play wild."
"You don't stick together properly. My goodness! It's only two weeks before the games. Do you expect to win?"
"Win? Hardly. Freshmen never expect to do much. If we beat the Sophomores we'd be lucky."
"Not beat the Sophomored!" cried Tommy, jumping up to her feet. "What's all this stuff you are giving me, Fanny? Haven't you girls got any more self-respect than that? What have you been practicing for all winter?"
"Well," said Fanny, shrugging her shoulders, "we've had it drummed into us by all the other teams that we can't expect to win anything much. Freshmen can't expect anything, you know."
"Fanny, you drive me furious. You sit there perfectly calm, like a rag doll, and repeat parrot talk about what people expect you to do! Can't you think for yourselves? Can't you do the unexpected? What's your captain good for? Oh, I just want to sit down and cry," burying her head in the pillows.
"It won't do any good if you do," said Fanny softly.
"You people haven't any class spirit. No wonder folks don't think much of our class," groaned Tommy.
"Well, why don't you go to work and put some spirit into us? You seem to have enough for a dozen."
Tommy glared at her roommate, who was seldom given to being sarcastic, but who was now really aroused.
"I will put some spirit into you folks, and I'll begin with you, Fanny Wallace! I'm going down right now to find your captain and see what can be done about it."
It was nearly 9.30, but Tommy hurried down to Wilder and knocked on No. 24, where Mabel Dutton, team captain, lived. Three others of the team were there, disheveled and hot from playing, and still in their "gym suits." Their coats were flung back on the couches, and the girls sat, dejected, among them. They were not saying very much; they were only moping. It might have been a funeral.
"What's the use of living!" sighed Mabel Dutton, as Tommy came in.
"Well, what brought you to that decision?" asked Helen, settling herself on the end of a couch.
"We are having a consolation party."
"Consolation party? What for?"
"Why, we are consoling ourselves beforehand on the team's defeat."
"You are! Then you ought to be ashamed of yourselves. You seem all to have been dipped in the same tub of bluing!"
"We are fated."
"You are foolish! That's what I came down here this time of night to talk about."
"What can we do?"
"That's just it. What can we do? You know that the Faculty kept me off the team," said Tommy, flushing at the thought, "and you know I've done some good work at Erasmus. Can I be of any help to you?"
"Help?" cried Mabel Dutton. "Why, you jewel! It's the thing I've been praying for all along! I -- I know you are a brilliant player, but I've been afraid to ask you, for fear -- for fear you wouldn't want to -- because -- you were left off."
"Why, Mabel Dutton! How ungenerous you make me! And I've been afraid of asking you, for fear you'd think I was butting in. Why, I'd give my ears to be able to help you out!"
The team were hugging her with joy.
"Yes, yes, do come down and give us some points!" they cried. "Why, we'd be tickled to pieces and all the while we thought you were offish!"
"I'd be tickled myself, you old dears! Well, there are only two more weeks left, and I'm going to be down at every basket-ball practice, whether the Faculty want me or not. They might just as well have let me play!"
Tommy kept her word. Every evening her team played, found Tommy in "gym suit" and sneakers on the smooth, resined floor of the gymnasium. In the team, up to this time, it had been everyone for herself; and, though they were good players, the constant beating at the hands of the other teams had knocked them into a characterless pulp.
"Now, you people," cried Helen with all authority, "don't each of you imagine you're the only ones that can play! Keep to your own corners and let the other girls do their duty when the ball is down their end."
She gave all her strength to the team, coaching it, suggesting new plays and inventing feints -- putting life generally into them, in the short time to elapse before the first game -- the Freshman-Sophomore game.
She bubbled over with excitement all the while, and her nerves tingled. Every muscle of her quivered. She was never still for an instant, and studying was done with a feverish haste. Tommy had lots on her hands!
Coaching was not the only thing, however. The executive committee was getting up a sheet of basketball songs, and Tommy was in her element. All were enthusiastic about it, but Helen's enthusiasm yielded the most solid results. The songs and cheers she had tucked away in her brain some time back, now appeared in printer's ink. She told the team about this grand preparation, without mentioning her own labors in it.
"Girls, do you know what songs the class have gotten up for you? Well, they're dandy! They've been practicing them to beat the band! They'll just lift the roof off this gym, when they come here to cheer you! Girls, you've got to just play like all possessed! They've got a sort of egotistic idea into their heads that they've the best team going. You're going to meet the Sophs Saturday, and you've simply got to win!"
The team were thoroughly aroused now. They began to play with a ferocity that would go through a stone wall, unmindful of bruises. They tumbled on the floor more or less, and bruised their knees and elbows; but what matter? Fanny, the star goal thrower, with now efficient support, made some prime goals. The Freshman skies were roseate.
Then something happened.
On Thursday morning Fanny got up from bed with a dreadful headache and a fever. Her bones ached pitifully, and she could no more than essay to dress herself and, giving it up, fall back again to bed.
"Oh, Fanny! Fanny!" cried Helen, putting the covers around her, "do you suppose you have anything serious?"
"I hope not," said Fanny, swallowing dryly. "What should we do for the Sophomore game?"
"Ugh!" groaned Helen. "Don't mention it. Fanny, you are horribly sick."
"Oh, it's nothing serious. I suppose I got it running down to the gym last night with only a rain coat over my gym suit."
"Well, we'd better have Dr. Doane come and see you."
"Dr. Doane! Why, she'll keep me in bed for a week. She wouldn't let me play Saturday."
"Perhaps we can postpone the game."
"Postpone? Never! I wouldn't give those Sophs a chance to say a word more against us."
"Oh, Fanny, dear," said Tommy, smoothing her hot forehead, "what shall we do? Tell me; for you must have a doctor."
"But, Helen, I don't want a doctor!"
"Fanny," said her roommate with sudden resolution, "that setties it; I do."
Dr. Doane came after chapel and carefully examined the patient. Her brow puckered up seriously as she proceeded.
"My dear young lady," she said, "you have a very bad case of grippe."
"Grippe!" exclaimed the two girls.
Helen groaned; Fanny choked back a half sob.
"Do you think I could be up in three days?" ventured Fanny.
"Three days!" exclaimed the doctor. "If you're out in three weeks you're lucky."
Both the girls looked at her horrified.
"You don't mean that, doctor," pleaded Helen. "It isn't as bad as all that."
"It's bad enough; and if you take care of yourself, Miss Wallace, maybe we can get you in good enough shape to send you home Easter vacation."
"Oh, that won't do any good, Dr. Doane. I want to get up Saturday."
"Saturday? What's going on Saturday?"
"The Freshman-Sophomore game," explained Helen, eager with hope.
"Oh, you're anxious to see that, Miss Wallace?"
"Oh, no -- but -- but --"
"She's in it," said Helen; "she's goal thrower for our team."
"Oh, I see," said the doctor, and, shaking her head doubtfully, "you'll be a very plucky young woman if you can play basketball next Saturday."
There were tears in Fanny's eyes that sparkled out on her lashes, and her lips trembled.
"But -- but if I could get up and play, doctor, would you let me?"
"Bless my heart!" cried Dr. Doane. "If you could do it, of course I'd let you. But who ever heard of getting over such a bad case of grippe in three days!"
But --"
"Now, don't be foolish, my 'dear! Your health first of all. You really ought to be down at the Everett House."
"She's not so bad as to go to the infirmary!" exclaimed Helen.
"And in a wheeled chair --" groaned the patient.
The doctor laughed.
"You funny girl!" she said. "Seems to me, for a patient as sick as you, you are very independent. However, come right down to the dispensary, Miss Thompson, and I'll give you some medicine for our impatient patient."
"But Saturday --" pleaded Fanny, as the doctor was leaving. "If --"
"All right," laughed Dr. Doane. "If you can, you may."
All day Helen ministered to her roommate, and at night she left her with Gail Calder and went down to team practice, putting a substitute in Fanny's place.
Helen knew better than to tell the team what was the matter. The cloud that worried her brow had its silver lining on the outside. Fanny was indisposed, she told them, but would probably be on the "gym" floor to-morrow or the next day surely; in the meantime, please to see how well they could play without her.
During the days that followed, Helen watched Fanny's symptoms as a sea captain watches the barometer. But the barometer kept falling, and, when out of the room, Helen breathed a heavy, despairing sigh. True, Fanny was up on Friday afternoon for two hours. But she rocked like a derelict ship and had to be helped across the floor.
Besides this, the team found out what the trouble was, and so did the rest of the class. They went around with long, serious faces, and almost wept in each other's arms. For their team, in spite of Helen's bolstering, was weak enough without leaving out their star goal thrower -- and in champion games, goals counted!
Right after supper on Friday evening, the Freshman class met in Assembly Hall to practice their basket-ball songs for the last time.
"Tell them I'm surely going to play to-morrow," almost sobbed Fanny.
"Oh, Fanny," said Helen, taking her roommate's head in her hands and kissing her hot forehead, "I'm not going to do anything of the sort. You're too sick to play. Why, honey, you'd wobble around like a run-out top!"
And with a weepy laugh Helen left her roommate.
During the afternoon she had rounded up all of the team and made them promise to attend the practicing of the basket-ball songs in Assembly Hall. It would do them good. They came.
"How is Fanny? How is she?" all asked her, as Helen appeared at the piano.
"Oh, all right, thanks."
"Will -- will she be able to play to-morrow, do you think?"
"Well, I don't think so, that's the truth; she's too sick for words! But Fanny told me to tell you that she will play."
"Good for Fanny Wallace," cried the class, as the news got around. "Let's give nine Rah's for Wallace --
"Rah-rah-rah!
Rah-rah-rah!
Rah-rah-rah!
Wallace! Wallace! Wallace!"
"That's the ticket!" cried Helen. "It doesn't matter if Fanny is out of it! Let's get up spirit! That's what we all want. Do it some more with the new yells."
After five minutes of raucous shouting, Helen put a stop to the noise and told them to save their voices for the singing. They were enthusiastic, and the songs went with full swing. They knew them almost by heart now, without referring to the little yellow folders the committee had had printed down at Holyoke. Seated in the front row, the team, the lions of the day, mouthed the words idly and smiled sheepishly to hear their praises sung.
"That's it," cried Tommy, swinging a short stick, which, as cheering leader, served her for a baton. "We just want to whip it into those Sophomores tomorrow. We've the dandiest team on earth, and they've got their backs arched and tails swinging, ready to fight! Haven't you, girls!"
And the team snickered, and the class laughed delightedly at Tommy's observations.
"Now once more," said Helen, looking at her watch. "It's eight o'clock, and the conquering heroes have to go and practice in the gym!"
With more energy than wisdom, the song was "ripped out." It left throats feeling dry and ticklish, but hearts were bounding and brains whirling, and after a last exhortation from Helen and a command, "Now yell for US!" the crowd dispersed and went home to try and study.