Grace Harlowe's Sophomore Year at High School Part 14

"Miriam isn't here," said Eva Allen, "she went home early. She told me she could not bear to see anyone unhappy. She is so sensitive you know?" Eva Allen was devoted to Miriam's cause.

"Oh, I don't know about that," said practical Marian. "She'll make a good captain, however, because she has showed more loyalty to the team than Grace has."

Marian firmly believed what she said. She had never been an ardent admirer of Miriam, and had at first stubbornly refused to repudiate Grace. But Miriam had little by little instilled into her the idea of Grace's incompetency, until Marian, who thought only of the good of the team, became convinced that a change of captains was advisable. Miriam's brilliant playing in the recent game was the final touch needed, and now Marian was prepared to do what she considered was her absolute duty.

"Suppose we write Grace a letter," suggested one of the subst.i.tutes, "as long as no one seems anxious to tell her."

"Hush," exclaimed Eva Allen, holding up her finger. "Here come Nora and Jessica. I know they are going to make a lot of fuss when they hear the news. Suppose we go back to the cla.s.sroom and write the letter. We can all sign our names to it, and then we'll be equally to blame."

The conspirators accordingly trooped into the corridor, just as Nora and Jessica were about to enter the locker-room.

"What in the world is the matter now?" called Jessica. "You girls looks as guilty as though you'd stolen a gold mine."

"Wait and see," said Eva with a rather embarra.s.sed laugh, as she hurried after the others up the stairs.

"Do you know, Jessica, I believe they're up to some hateful mischief. What did I tell you the other day? Those girls have given Grace the cold shoulder more than ever, since the game. They have been following Miriam about like a lot of sheep. Grace notices it, too, and it makes her unhappy, only she's too proud to say so."

"Never mind," said Jessica soothingly. "They'll be sorry some day.

Miriam's influence won't last. Grace did perfectly right in standing by Anne, and you and I must always stand by Grace. Grace is a fine captain, and----"

"What are you saying about me?" demanded Grace herself, walking into the locker-room with Anne.

Jessica blushed and was silent, but Nora said glibly, "Oh, Jessica just now said that you made a fine captain." Then she went on hurriedly, "I think our chances for winning the champions.h.i.+p are better than ever, don't you?"

"The juniors have been practising like mad since their defeat," mused Grace. "They will make a hard fight next time. Miss Thompson told me yesterday that she never saw better work in basketball than ours last Sat.u.r.day. I am so proud of my team, even though they haven't been very nice to me lately. My whole desire is for them to win the final game. I suppose a captain has about the same feeling toward her players that a mother has toward her daughters. She is willing to make any sacrifice in order to make fine girls of them."

"And you are a fine captain," cried Anne. "I felt so proud of you the other day. You handled your team so well. Knowing how hateful they have been, it was wonderful to see you give your orders as though nothing had happened. No other girl could have done it."

"That is a nice compliment, Anne, dear," said Grace pleased with the words of praise from her friend, for the bitterness of her recent unpopularity had made her heart heavy.

At that moment the soph.o.m.ores whom Jessica and Nora had encountered filed into the room.

Each girl wore a self-conscious expression. Eva Allen carried an envelope in her hand. She was confused and nervous.

Once inside the door the girls paused and began a whispered conversation.

Then Eva Allen tried to push the envelope into another girl's hand; but the girl put her hands behind her back and obstinately refused to take it.

There was another whispered conference with many side glances in Grace's direction.

Nora stood scowling savagely at the group. She noticed that it consisted of the basketball team and its subst.i.tutes. They were all there except Miriam.

"If you have any secrets, girls," remarked Grace in a hurt tone, "please postpone the telling of them for a few minutes. I am going, directly."

She opened her locker and drew out her coat and hat, trying to hide the tears that filled her eyes.

Then Marian Barber impatiently took the envelope from Eva and stepped forward. She had made up her mind to get the whole thing over as rapidly as she could.

"Er--Grace," she said, clearing her throat, "er--the team has----"

"Well, what is it?" exclaimed Nora, irritated beyond her power of endurance. "Why don't you speak out, instead of stuttering in that fas.h.i.+on? I always did detest stuttering."

"Marian has a note for you, Grace," interposed one of the subst.i.tutes growing bolder.

Marian placed the note in Grace's hand and turned slowly away. Up to that minute she had believed that what they were about to do was for the best; but all at once the feeling swept over her that she had done a contemptible thing. She turned as though about to take the envelope from Grace, but the latter had already opened it, and unfolding the paper began reading the contents aloud.

"Dear Grace," she read, "after a meeting to-day of the members of the regular and subst.i.tute soph.o.m.ore basketball teams, it was decided that your resignation as captain of the same be requested.

"We are sorry to do this, but we believe it is for the good of the team.

We feel that you cannot be loyal to its interests as long as you persist in being a friend of one of its enemies."

The names of the players, with the exception of Nora's and Miriam's, were signed to this communication.

After she had finished reading Grace stood perfectly still, looking searchingly into the faces of her cla.s.smates. She was trying to gain her self-control before speaking to them.

She could hardly realize that her own team had dealt this cruel blow. For the first time in her life she had received a real shock. She took a long deep breath and clenched her hands. She did not wish to break down before she had spoken what was in her mind.

Nora was muttering angrily to herself. Jessica looked ready to cry, while Anne, pale and resolute, came over and stood by Grace. She felt that she had been the primary cause of the whole trouble. She had borne the girls'

unjust treatment of herself in silence, but, now, they had visited their displeasure upon Grace, and that was not to be borne.

"How dared you do such a despicable thing?" she cried. "You are cruel, unfeeling, and oh, so unjust. You accused me of something I would scorn to do, and not satisfied with that, visited your petty spite upon a girl who is the soul of truth and honor. You may say what you choose about me, but you shall not hurt Grace, and if you don't immediately retract what you have written I will take measures which may prove most unpleasant to all of you."

Just what Anne intended to do she did not know, but her outburst had its effect on the conspirators, and they squirmed uneasily under the lash of her words. Perhaps, they had misjudged this slender, dark-eyed girl after all.

Before Anne could say more, Grace spoke quietly.

"Sit down, all of you," she said at last, with a sweetness and dignity that was remarkable in so young a girl. "I have something to say to you.

It is curious," she went on, "that I was just talking about our basketball team when you came into the room. I had said to Nora, Jessica and Anne that I wanted more than anything else in the world to beat the junior team. Miss Thompson had been praising the team to me, and I said to the girls that I thought I loved it just as a mother loves her daughters.

There is no sacrifice I wouldn't make to keep up the team's good work, and that is the reason why I am going to make a sacrifice, now, and decline to resign. If I had been a poor captain, you would have had a right to ask for my resignation But I haven't. I have been a good, hard-working, conscientious captain, and I have made a success of the team. None of you can deny it. If you took a new captain at this stage it might ruin everything, and I tell you I have thought too much about it; I have set my heart on it so firmly that it would just break if we lost the deciding game."

Her voice broke a little. Nora was sobbing openly. It was hard work for Grace to control her own tears.

"Of course," she went on, clearing her throat and raising her voice to steady it, "it will be a sacrifice for me to keep on being your captain when you don't want me. It's no fun, I can a.s.sure you. Perhaps none of you has ever felt the hurt that comes of being turned out by people who were once fond of you. I hope you never will. I am still fond of all of you, and some day, perhaps, you will see that you have made a mistake. At any rate, I decline to resign my place. It was given to me for the year, and I won't give it up."

Grace turned her back and walked to the window. She had come at last to the end of her strength. She leaned against the window jamb and wept bitterly.

But the address of Mark Anthony over the dead body of Caesar was not more effective than this simple schoolgirl's speech. Every girl there melted into tears of remorse and sympathy.

"Oh, Grace," cried Marian Barber, "won't you forgive us? We never dreamed it would hurt you so. Now that I look back upon it, I can't see how we could have asked you to do it. We did believe that Miss Pierson betrayed us; but after all, that had nothing to do with your being captain of the team. I think you have been a great deal more loyal than we have. I want to say right here, girls, that I apologize to Grace and scratch my name off the list."

She took a pencil, das.h.i.+ng it through her signature, which was the first one on the letter.

One by one each of the other girls put a pencil stroke through her name.

Then they pinned on their hats, slipped into their coats and left the room as quickly as possible. They were all desperately ashamed; each in her secret heart wished she had never entered into the conspiracy.

They had given the captaincy to Grace, and after all, they had no right to take away what they had freely given, and for no better reason than that Grace was loyal to a friend whom they distrusted.

It was a cruel thing that they had done. They admitted it to each other now, and wished they had never listened to Miriam Nesbit.