Jane Allen, Right Guard

Politely responding to the greetings extended to herself and Ida as they advanced down the line, they came at last to the girl who stood next to Marian. The instant Jane had touched hands with the former she drew Ida's arm within her own and turned abruptly away, without giving Marian time to do more than glare angrily after her. Jane realized very well that what she had done was in the nature of a rudeness, yet she felt that under the circumstances it was justifiable.

To her great relief, Judith, Adrienne and Ethel did precisely the same thing.

"Well, we came through with our heads still on," congratulated naughty Judith in Jane's ear, the moment they had won clear of the fateful receiving line. "Clever little Janie. I saw and I heeded. Our dear Marian looked ready to bite. I think she would have snapped anyway, if we'd given her half a chance. Good thing she was on the end. I'm sure nobody noticed."

"I hope no one did," Jane sighed. "I hated to do it. I think, too, she intended to be hateful. I saw it in her face, so I just slid away without giving her a chance. I'm glad that ordeal's over. Now I must find some partners for Ida. The dancing will soon begin."

This proved an easy task. Whatever might be freshman opinion of Jane Allen, she had more friends among the sophomores than she had believed possible. In touch socially with her class for the first time since her return to Wellington, she was amazed at the smiling faces and gay greetings which she met at every turn.

It had a wonderfully cheering effect on her, coming as it did on the heels of the recent freshman demonstration of ill-will. It gave her a thrill of intense happiness. She resolved to put away every vexatious thought and enjoy the frolic with all her might.

That she had successfully put her resolution into effect was evidenced by her bright eyes and laughing lips when, two hours afterward, she and Judith seated themselves on a wicker settee after a one-step which they had danced together for old time's sake.

"I'm having a splendiferous time!" glowed Judith. "You can see for yourself how much that old paper amounted to. Most of these freshmen have been lovely to me. I've steered clear of the ones who looked doubtful. I've had a few scowls handed to me. It's been easy to pick out the ignoble Noble's satellites by their freezing stares. I wonder who escorted our noble little friend? Cousin Marian, no doubt," she added, with her ever-ready chuckle.

"No doubt," was Jane's dry repetition. "Let's go and get some lemonade, Judy," she proposed irrelevantly. "Just watching that crowd around the punch bowl makes me thirsty."

"I'm in need of a few cups of lemonade myself," concurred Judith amiably.

Attempting to rise, an ominous ripping sound informed Jane that Judith had been unconsciously sitting on a fold of the silver tissue overdress to her gown.

"Oh, what a shame! I didn't know I was sitting on your overskirt, Jane. That's too bad!"

Judith hastily got to her feet to ruefully inspect the amount of damage she had done.

"It's nothing," Jane assured lightly. "Let's drink our lemonade and then go over to the dressing room. I can pin this tear so it will stay, I guess. The gathers are only ripped out a little."

Having drunk two cups of lemonade apiece, they strolled on toward the dressing room. It was the little side room the freshman team had used the previous year when playing basket-ball.

Nor were they aware, as they crossed the wide room, arm in arm, that a certain pair of pale blue eyes jealously watched them. As they disappeared through the dressing-room door, Marian Seaton hurried after them, disagreeable purpose written on her face.

Quite oblivious to the fact that she was one of a welcoming committee, she had fully intended to say something cutting to Jane when the latter should arrive that evening in the gymnasium. Having missed one opportunity she did not propose to miss a second. This time Jane Allen should hear what she had to say.

At the slightly opened door she heard words which brought her to an abrupt halt. It was not the first time she had listened at that selfsame door. Edging close, she turned her back to it.

Facing the big room, her pale eyes roved over it with studied carelessness. Her ears, however, were sharply trained to catch the sound of two voices that drifted plainly out to her.

Meanwhile Judith, unaware of listeners, was gayly remarking as she pinned up the tear in Jane's overdress:

"This reminds me of the tear in the white lace dress that caused such a fuss last year. It was a good thing you were around to help Norma out of that mix-up. If it hadn't been for you, Edith Hammond would have gone straight to Mrs. Weatherbee and told her that it was Norma who stole her dress. I must say, Edith acted splendidly about it afterward. I never thought she had it in her to do as she did."

"Things looked pretty black for poor Norma that day until I made things right with Edith," reminisced Jane. "She was determined to make Norma give back her dress when all the while——"

"It was Judy Stearns who had really stolen it," merrily supplemented Judith.

"I'll never forget Edith's face when I told her I was sorry to say that the real thief was Judith Stearns," laughed Jane.

"I was the thief, all right enough, but only a few people knew it. Alas, my fatal failing!" grinned Judith. "There! I guess that will stay. Let's go. I hear the enlivening strains of a fox trot. That means us."

It also meant to the listener outside that her time of eavesdropping was up. Before the two occupants of the dressing room had reached the door Marian Seaton had hurried away from it, her original intention quite forgotten.

Once the sophomores had done their duty in the way of entertaining their freshmen sisters, they promptly turned to their own affairs.

Following the freshman frolic a busy week of sophomore electioneering set in. It was succeeded by a class meeting that barely escaped being a quarrel.

At least a third of the class had, it appeared, enlisted under Marian Seaton's banner. These ardent supporters who had espoused her cause in the previous year and had been defeated, again came to the front with belligerent energy. Though lacking in numbers, they were strong in disagreeable opposition.

Christine Ellis' nomination of Judith Stearns for president, which was seconded by Alicia Reynolds, caused one after another of Marian's adherents to rise to their feet in hot objection. For five minutes or more the chairman of the nomination committee had her hands full in subduing the rebels.

Stung by the insult, Judith arose, white with righteous wrath, to decline the nomination. Repeated cries of, "Sit down, Judy. We want you for our president!" "What's the matter with Judy? She's all right!" and, "Judy Stearns or nobody!" drowned the refusal she strove to utter. In the end she threw up her hands in a gesture of despair and sat down, amid approving cheers from her triumphant supporters.

The nomination of Alicia Reynolds as vice-president was hardly less opposed by the other faction, though it was carried in spite of protest. With deliberate intent to shame, Barbara Temple calmly nominated Maizie Gilbert as treasurer, thereby astounding the objectors to momentary dumbness. They soon rallied, however, and one of their number hastily seconded the nomination, which was carried.

Emboldened to action, Maizie promptly nominated Leila Brookes, one of her friends, for secretary. This nomination was avidly seconded by another of Marian's adherents and also carried. Having won their point against unworthy opposition, the majority could afford to be generous.

The final result of the election found honors equally divided between the two sets of girls, a condition of affairs which promised anything but a peaceful year for 19—.

Gathered at Rutherford Inn that evening for a spread in honor of Judith, given by Christine and Barbara, the latter expressed herself frankly in regard to the afternoon's proceedings.

"That class meeting was as nearly a riot as could be," she declared disgustedly. "I expected to engage in hand-to-hand combat before it ended. I thought the best way to shame that crowd was to give them the chance, they didn't want to give us."

"They snapped at it, too," Christine Ellis said scornfully.

"I'll never forgive you girls for making me president when I didn't want to be," was Judith's rueful assertion.

"We would never have forgiven you if you had backed out," retorted Ethel Lacey.

"I didn't have the least word to say about it. Nobody would listen to me."

Judith's comical air of resignation provoked a laugh.

"You should thus be pleased that you are well-liked, Judy," asserted Adrienne. "And Alicia, here, we were delighted with your success, ma chere."

"I never dreamed of being nominated." A faint color stole into Alicia's pale face. "I'd much rather it had been one of you girls."

"I'm heartily glad I was out of it all," declared Jane with emphasis. "There's only one thing I really want this year in the way of college honors."

"To make the sophomore team?" asked Christine.

"Yes."

An eager light sprang into Jane's gray eyes.

"You'll make it, Jane," predicted Barbara. "You can outplay us all. Some of us are going to lose out, though. There are five of us here who are going to try for it. Judy, Adrienne, you, Christine and I. Of course we can't all make it. Quite a lot of sophs are going to try for it this year besides us. Marian Seaton will be one of them, I suppose."

"She'll make it, if any of her friends happen to be judges at the try-out," commented Judith sagely. "I hope Dorothy Martin will be chosen as one of the judges. She can be depended upon to do the fair thing. Miss Hurley was awfully unfair last year. I wish Dorothy'd be chosen as our manager."

"We ought to do a little practicing, girls," urged Jane. "Let's start in to-morrow afternoon, provided we can have the gym. I understand the freshman team have been monopolizing it ever since their try-out last week."

"Who's on the freshman team?" asked Ethel curiously.

"I don't know. Haven't been over to see them work," Jane replied. "Have any of you?" She glanced about the round table at her friends.

A general shaking of heads revealed the fact that no one had.

"It's queer, but somehow I can't get interested in the freshmen," confided Barbara Temple. "A lot of them acted awfully stand-offish toward me on the night of the dance."

"I noticed the same thing!" exclaimed Christine in surprise. "I thought it was my imagination. Those four girls you folks brought were sweet, though."

"They are dandy girls," interposed Judith hastily, and immediately launched forth in praise of the Bridge Street freshmen.

Though she could have very quickly explained the strained attitude of the freshman class to Christine and Barbara, she held her peace. She decided, however, to have a talk that night with Jane. It was not fair that these two loyal friends should be kept in the dark about what bade fair to affect them unpleasantly.

That she was not alone in her opinion became manifest when, toward nine o'clock, Alicia, Ethel, Adrienne, Jane and herself bade Christine and Barbara good night and went on across the campus toward Madison Hall.

"Jane," began Judith abruptly, "I think we ought to tell Christine and Barbara about that freshman business. I didn't want to say a word until I'd put it up to you girls."

"Yes, I suppose we ought to tell them." Jane spoke almost wearily. "I didn't say anything about it to-night because I hated to drag it all up again. If you see either of the girls to-morrow, Judy, you'd better explain matters. I don't want to. I'm sick of the whole business."

"I'm heartily sick of my roommate. I can tell you that," said Alicia. "If I had known when that girl walked into my room that she was Marian Seaton's cousin I should have refused to room with her. She's completely under Marian's thumb. Whatever Marian tells her to do she does. You'd think after what happened the other day that she'd be too angry ever to speak to me again. Well, she isn't. She tries to talk to me whenever we're together. She told me yesterday that I had made a terrible mistake in giving up Marian for you girls."

"Marian put her up to that," declared Judith.

"Of course she did," nodded Alicia. "Elsie had the nerve to tell me that Marian felt dreadfully over the horrid way I'd treated her. She blames Jane for it, and says she'll get even with her for it. I blame myself for being so hateful last year. Jane showed me how to be the person I'd always wanted to be, but was too cowardly then to be it."

"Jane is of us all the loyal friend," broke in Adrienne. "Sometimes she wears the fierce scowl and has the look of the lion, yet I am not afraid of her. See, even now she scowls, but she will not eat us. She scowls thus to hide the embarrassment."

The bright moonlight betrayed plainly the deep scowl between Jane's brows to which Adrienne had called attention.

"Imp, you're a rascal." Jane's brows immediately smoothed themselves. "You know altogether too much about me. I was embarrassed. That's a fact. What Alicia said made me feel rather queer because I don't think I deserved it. I can't be the person I want to be myself, let alone showing anybody else. That's what has been bothering me right along. I'd like to be able to rise above caring whether or not Marian Seaton tries to get even with me."

"You can't do it, Jane, and be just to yourself," Alicia said very positively. "I know Marian a great deal better than I wish I did. She'll never stop trying to work against you as long as you're both at Wellington. She'll never let a chance slip to make trouble for you. I'd advise you to be on your guard and the very next time she tries anything hateful, go to Miss Rutledge with the whole story of the way she's treated you ever since you came to college."

"I couldn't do that. Not for myself, I mean. If it were something hateful she'd done to one of you girls, I could. I would have truly gone to Miss Rutledge or even Prexy with that paper, because it was injurious to Judy and Imp; not because of myself."

"Never mind, Jane. I am here to protect you," Judith reminded gaily. "I'd fight for you as quickly as you'd fight for me. Just remember that."

Judith began the little speech lightly. She ended with decided purpose.

"I know it, Judy."

Walking as she was beside her roommate, Jane slipped an affectionate hand within Judith's arm.

"If Marian plays on the team with you girls, then look out," further advised Alicia. "She'll do something to stir up trouble, you may depend upon it. I know I'm croaking, but I can't help it."

"Wait till she makes the team," grinned Judith. "She may find herself outplayed at the try-out. If she does, little Judy won't weep. No, indeed. I'll give a grand celebration in honor of the joyful event."

"I, also, will shed few tears," Adrienne drily concurred. "Ah, but I shall look forward to that most grand celebration! So at last this very wicked Marian shall perhaps be the cause of some little pleasure to us."

Jane could not resist joining in the laugh that greeted this naïve assertion. She wished she could feel as little concern about the matter as did Judith and Adrienne. Alicia's warning against Marian had taken hold on her more strongly than she could wish.

To Jane it seemed almost in the nature of a prophesy of disaster. She found herself inwardly hoping with her friends that Marian would not make the team. Instantly she put it aside as unworthy of what she, Jane Allen, desired to be. A good pioneer must forge ahead, surmounting one by one each obstacle that rose in the path. Again it came to Jane in that moment, out under the stars, that it could make no difference to her what Marian Seaton did or did not do to her, so long as she, an intrepid pioneer, steadily kept to work at clearing her own bit of college land.

She had earlier expressed this conviction to Dorothy. Later it had been swept away by bitter doubts as to whether she could continue to maintain a lofty indifference toward Marian's spiteful activities. Would she be obliged eventually to descend to Marian's level and fight her with her own weapons? She had more than once, of late, darkly considered the question. Now she knew that so long as Marian's spleen directed itself against her, and her alone, she could never do it. She would fight for her friends, but never for herself.

At half-past four o'clock on the Wednesday following the sophomore class elections, the sophomore basket-ball try-out took place in the gymnasium. Twenty girls of the sophomore class had elected to enter the lists, while the usual number of freshmen and upper class spectators lined the walls of the big room.

Among the ten bloomer-clad girls who were finally picked for the deciding tussle, five wore the dark green uniforms that had identified them the previous year as the official freshman team. They were Judith, Jane, Adrienne, Christine Ellis and Marian Seaton. Among the other five contestants, Barbara Temple and Olive Hurst, both of last year's practice team, had survived. The other three girls were disappointed aspirants of the previous year's try-out, who had sturdily returned to the lists for a try at making the sophomore team.

When the shrill notes of the whistle sent the ten into deciding action, it became immediately evident that it would be nip and tuck as to the winners. In every girlish heart lived the strong determination to be among the elect. In consequence, the zealous ten treated the spectators to a most spirited exhibition of basket-ball prowess.

When it had ended, the players ran off the floor, breathlessly to await the verdict. With the exception of two of them, opinion was divided. Regarding these two, there was no doubt in the minds of the watchers that Jane Allen and Adrienne Dupree, at least, had made the team. They were distinctly eligible.

Each in her own fashion had shown actual brilliancy of playing. The others had done extremely well. How well was a matter which must be left to the three judges to decide.

While the ten impatiently waited for the decision, over in the judges' corner a spirited discussion was going on between Dorothy Martin and the two seniors who were officiating with her in the capacity of judges. One of them, Selina Brown, had already been appointed as basket-ball manager of the teams for the year.

"I do not agree with you, Miss Brown," Dorothy was protesting, her fine face alive with righteous vexation. "In my opinion, Miss Stearns has completely outplayed Miss Seaton. In fact she has always been the better player of the two. Granted, Miss Seaton is an excellent player, but Miss Stearns outclasses her. I say this in absolute fairness. Try them out again and you will see, even if you don't now."

"I am sorry to be obliged to differ with you regarding Miss Stearns, but Miss Seaton must be my first and last choice. Miss Nelson quite agrees with me. Do you not?"

She turned triumphantly to the third judge for corroboration.

"I—really—yes, I think Miss Seaton is the better player."

The reply, begun hesitatingly, went on to firmness. Laura Nelson had the grace to color slightly, however, as she made it. Indebted to Marian Seaton for several rides in the latter's limousine, as well as hospitable entertainment at Rutherford Inn, she felt compelled to stand by at the critical moment. She had been privately given to understand beforehand that Marian was to make the team, whoever else failed.

"The majority rules, I believe, Miss Martin."

A disagreeable smile hovered about Miss Brown's thin lips as she said this.

"It does, but——" Patent contempt looked out from Dorothy's steady eyes.

"But what?" sharply challenged Selina Brown.

"It is an unfair majority," was the quiet accusation. "As the other four players have been chosen, I will leave you to make the announcement."

So saying, Dorothy turned abruptly and walked away, too greatly incensed to trust herself longer in the company of the pair whom she had flatly accused of unfairness. Straight across the gymnasium she walked to where Judith, Jane, Christine, Barbara and Adrienne stood, an eager group.

"Girls," she said, in a wrathfully impressive voice, "I'm going to stand here beside you. When the announcement of the team is made you'll understand why."

"What's the matter, Dorothy?" anxiously questioned Christine.

Four pairs of eyes riveted themselves wonderingly on Dorothy's flushed, indignant face. None of the quartette had ever before seen sweet-tempered Dorothy Martin so manifestly angry. Something of an unusual nature must have happened.

"Don't ask me now. Listen!"

A loud blast from the whistle, held to Selina Brown's lips, was now enjoining silence. Immediately after the sound had died away, a hush fell upon the great room as the senior manager stepped forward and announced:

"For the official sophomore team the following players have been chosen: Adrienne Dupree, Barbara Temple, Christine Ellis, Jane Allen, and Marian Seaton. To act as subs: Olive Hurst and Marjory Upton."

Immediately she went on with a speech, meant to be politely consoling to the defeated contestants.

A faint, concerted gasp arose from the little group collected about Dorothy. This, then, was the explanation of Dorothy's indignation.

"It's an outrage! I'm going to protest!" muttered Jane, her tones thick with wrath. "No, I'm going to refuse to play on the team."

"And I also," echoed Adrienne hotly.

"Let's do it!" urged Christine, catching Barbara by the arm. "Right now, before that Miss Brown gets through with her hypocritical speech."

"No, girls, you mustn't. I—I—don't—want you to," quavered Judith.

"We've got to, Judy! It's rank injustice, piled high!" declared Christine tempestuously.

"If you do—I'll hate all of you!" Judith desperately threatened. "You've got to stay on the team, simply because I'm not on it. I'm not blind and neither are you. One of us had to go to make room for Marian Seaton. It would have been Jane, I'm sure, if she hadn't played so well. They didn't quite dare do it. So I had to take it. We don't know what's back of it. Maybe it's been done on purpose to bring about the very thing you want to do. I say, don't give in to it. Stick to the team."

"Judy's right, girls," interposed Dorothy. "Don't resign. You might only be pleasing a number of persons by doing so."

Further counsel on her part was cut off by a flock of sophomores who had come up to congratulate the winners. The latter were wearing their triumph far from exultantly. Jane was scowling in her most ferocious fashion. Adrienne's piquant features were set and unsmiling. Christine and Barbara appeared constrained and ill at ease. Judith alone had conjured up a brave little smile with which to mask the hurt of her defeat.

"It's a shame you didn't make the team, Judy!" sympathized one tactless sophomore.

"Judy did make the team, by rights," Dorothy defended, unflinching purpose in the calm assertion. "I want it distinctly understood that she was my choice."

"We thought, too, that she should have been chosen," exclaimed Alice Kirby, another sophomore, with a vigorous nod of her head. "It seems funny——"

"It's anything but funny," Dorothy cut in sharply. "Pardon me, Alice, I didn't intend to be rude to you. I'm dreadfully disgusted over this affair. I'll leave you to guess the reason."

"It's not hard to guess," retorted Alice significantly. "With Judy a better player than Miss Seaton and yet not even chosen to sub, something's twisted at Wellington. I rather think it will stay twisted, too, as long as a certain person has two out of three judges on her side."

Alice had been one of Judith's most ardent supporters at the recent class election.

"Well, I'm glad you have such a clear idea of things," grimly returned Dorothy. "Kindly pass it on. I'm not saying that vindictively, either. I want everybody I know to understand that I consider this an unfair decision and that I absolutely refuse to countenance it. Miss Brown recently asked me to act as referee in the games this year. I accepted. Now I'm going straight to my room to write her my resignation."

"You mustn't do that, Dorothy," Judith again protested. "It's dear in you. I surely appreciate it. Really, I don't mind so very——"

Judith stopped, the wistfulness in her blue eyes contradicting her unfinished denial.

"But if you resign, Dorothy, there'll be no one to stand by us later," reminded Christine gloomily.

"I've thought of that, too, but it doesn't sway me. This is a matter of principle. I could not be Judith's friend if I accepted this injustice to her."

"It is indeed wise that Dorothy should do this," Adrienne sagely wagged her curly head. "First, it is but fair to you, Judy. Again we shall gain rather than lose for this reason. Soon all must know why Dorothy has thus resigned. She wishes it to be no secret. Voila! For the rest of the year these two most unfair seniors must have a care. The eyes of many will be upon them. The pitcher may go once too often to the well. N'est ce pas?"

She turned to her listeners for corroboration. Wily child that she was, she had decided to impress this view on those present, knowing that it would be accepted and remembered.

"We had thought, the four of us," she impressively continued, including her three teammates and herself in a sweeping gesture, "to resign from the team. Because Judy does not desire it, we shall remain only to please her. Judy has the great heart and the broad mind. She has not the narrow soul of some persons of whom I might speak, only that these names leave the bad taste in my mouth."

"Hurrah for Judy! Three cheers for Adrienne!" enthusiastically proposed one of the highly impressed sophomores.

The hearty burst of acclamation which suddenly rent the air was anything but welcome to a number of girls still lingering in the gymnasium.

Surrounded by a coterie of her own adherents, which included Leila Brooks, Elsie Noble, Maizie Gilbert, and a number of upper class girls, Marian Seaton's pale eyes darted a spiteful glance at the noisy worshippers of the girls she detested.

"Boisterous things!" she exclaimed disdainfully. "The idea of their setting up such a howl about that Judy Stearns when she didn't even make sub, let alone making the team. If they knew what I know about her, not one of those sophs outside of her own crowd would ever speak to her again."

"What do you know about her? Don't be stingy, Marian." "Why not let us into the know?" were some of the cries that greeted Marian's dark insinuation.

"I'll keep what I know to myself for the present. I am too charitable to make trouble for that girl, even if she has done her utmost to injure me. I'll never tell anyone unless there comes a time when I feel it necessary to speak."

Marian assumed an air of virtuous tolerance that caused Maizie Gilbert to eye her with reluctant admiration. She alone knew what her roommate was driving at.

"I'm really relieved because you girls haven't carried on like wild Indians about my making the team," she continued sweetly. "I hate being made conspicuous."

She was inwardly furious because her supporters had failed to become wildly jubilant over her success.

"Three cheers for Marian!" hastily proposed Elsie, realizing that it was not yet too late to save herself from Marian's private displeasure.

Far from being disgusted with the belated mead of praise, for which she had fished, Marian beamed patronizingly as the cheers were given.

These sounds of requisitioned acclamation were wafted to the ears of Selina Brown and Laura Nelson, who were in the act of leaving the gymnasium.

"Well, she partly got what she wanted," remarked Selina Brown grimly as they left the building and set off for Creston Hall where both lived.

"I expect that she'll be peeved because things didn't go entirely her way. I made a fatal mistake in asking Dorothy Martin to be one of the judges," pursued Selina. "I had forgotten about her being so thick with that Allen girl. Marian never mentioned it, either, until afterward. Then she made a big fuss, but it was too late to renege. Last year I let basket-ball alone. I'd had enough of it the first two years here at Wellington. I wasn't in touch with these girls that Marian's so down on. Roberta Hurley was managing the teams then, you know. She recommended me to Miss Rutledge as her successor. I wish now I'd refused to act as manager."

"I'm sorry I had anything to do with it," regretted Laura Nelson. "Of course, Marian has been lovely to both of us. I was stupid enough to mistake it for real friendship until she came right out the other night and asked us to keep those three girls off the team. Then I knew she'd only been getting an axe ready for us to grind."

"Oh, I saw through her from the first, but I thought I'd humor her. We've had a good many rides and dinners at her expense. I supposed it would be easy enough to keep those three off the team. When I saw them play I knew differently. That Jane Allen is a wonder with the ball; the little French girl, too. If I had dropped either of them the sophs would have raised the roof. I had to save my own reputation. It didn't matter so much about the Stearns girl. She and Marian were pretty evenly matched."

"She's a better player than Marian," frankly disagreed Laura. "As it is, I think we are in for trouble. We've antagonized Dorothy Martin. You heard what she said to us. She won't hesitate to say it to anyone else who claims Miss Stearns ought to have made the team. Dorothy's always stood high at Wellington. She has lots of friends."

"Oh, she'll calm down," predicted Selina. "She hates to be crossed. Personally, I don't admire her. She poses too much. She's either a prig or a hypocrite. A little of both, I guess. When Marian raged about my asking her to act as judge she said she knew for a fact that Dorothy's father had lost all his money and that Dorothy was hanging on to Jane Allen and this French girl, I never can remember her name, because they took her around with them and spent lots of money on luncheons and dinners."

"Then she's no better than we are!" exclaimed Laura, looking relief at this piece of news.

"Of course she isn't," retorted Selina. "As nearly as I can make out it's nip and tuck between Marian and this Jane Allen as to which of them will run the sophomore class. One has about as much principle as the other. Marian has been nice to us. The Allen girl has never bothered herself to get acquainted with us. I understand she's very haughty. I should have really enjoyed keeping her off the team, but I didn't dare do it."

"Then you think we ought to stick to Marian?" Laura asked rather dubiously.

"Yes. Why not? So long as it suits us to do it. We can easily handle her if she shows her claws. She won't, though. She knows that I could drop her from the team if I chose. She won't dare say a word because the rest of the team are against her. I'll very quickly remind her of it if she is wrathy about to-day's affair."

"Suppose anything—well—disagreeable for us—should come of it?"

Despite Selina's assurances, Laura was not quite satisfied.

"What do you mean?" queried Selina impatiently.

"Suppose Miss Stearns' friends should take it up and raise a regular riot about it? A lot of sophs went over to her after the try-out. You saw them and heard them cheering her. Dorothy Martin was there with the crowd. She went straight to them from us. I tell you, I don't like it, Selina. I think we were foolish to lay ourselves open to criticism. We're seniors, you know, and so are supposed to set a good example for the other classes."

"Oh, stop worrying about it," roughly advised Selina. "Wait and see what happens. If the sophs start to fuss, I can soon settle them."

"How?" demanded Laura incredulously.

"By taking Marian off the team and putting the Stearns girls on," promptly informed Selina. "If I lose Marian's friendship by it, I'll gain Dorothy Martin's and Jane Allen's. As I'm not devoted to any of these girls, I'm not particular which side I'm on, so long as it's the side that does the most for me."

Returned to Madison Hall that afternoon, Dorothy Martin went directly to her room to put into effect the spoken resolution she had made in the gymnasium.

The brief note she dashed off in a strong, purposeful hand, read:

Deciding to send it through the regular mail channels, she stamped and addressed it, and promptly consigned it to the mail box.

When it presently came into the hands of Selina Brown, it cost the latter some moments of uneasy speculation. She had not reckoned on Dorothy's going thus far.

As it happened the note came as a climax to a trying session she had spent with Marian Seaton on the previous evening. Marian had come over to Creston Hall after dinner with blood in her eye. She was decidedly out of sorts over the partial failure of her scheme and did not hesitate to take Selina to task for it.

Selina, as her elder and a senior, had vast ideas of her own regarding the proper amount of respect due her from a mere sophomore. Armed with a dignity too great to descend to open quarrel, she soon reduced angry Marian to reason.

"You ought to be thankful to me for putting you on the team," she had coldly reminded. "Goodness knows Laura and I have had trouble enough over it already. I proved my friendship for you. Now be good enough to appreciate it and stop criticizing me. I consider it in very bad taste."

After Marian had finally departed in a more chastened frame of mind, Selina pondered darkly concerning the "friendship" she had flaunted in Marian's face. She decided that Marian would have to show more appreciation if she expected any further favors.

Dorothy's note served again to arouse in Selina renewed resentment toward Marian. She was now at odds with one of the most popular girls at Wellington, and what had she gained? A few automobile rides and dinners, bestowed upon her by a girl in whom gratitude was a minus quality. Selina was distinctively aggrieved. She could only hope, as she carefully reduced Dorothy's note to bits and dropped them into the waste basket, that this was the end of the matter. It had all been aggravating in the extreme.

Three days passed and nothing more happened. She had half expected that the four friends of Judith who had made the team might send in their resignations. She wished they would. A new team would be far less likely to give trouble later on.

But no resignations arrived. In fact, a visit to the gymnasium on the third afternoon revealed the sophomore team at practice. She wondered how Marian had the temerity to go calmly to work with four girls whom she detested, and who in turn must heartily detest her.

Aside from Marian, who beamed and nodded to her, no one else on the team appeared to note her presence. It was mortifying, to say the least. But the end was not yet.

Though Dorothy had made no secret of her resignation from basket-ball activities, it took the news several days to reach the ears of the freshman class.

"Too bad Dorothy's given up referee's post this year, isn't it?" was the casual remark that set the ball of reinstatement rolling.

It was made to a member of the freshman team by Alice Kirby. There was a purposeful gleam in her eye despite the apparent carelessness of the comment. It immediately provoked a volley of questions, which Alice answered with prompt alacrity. The effect upon the freshman was electrical. She left Alice post haste to gather up her teammates and hold a council of war.

The very next afternoon the council waited upon Miss Rutledge with a most amazing story. They wanted to play basket-ball that year. Oh, very much indeed! Still, they didn't care to play without Dorothy Martin as referee. Yes, Dorothy had been appointed by Miss Brown, but she had resigned. No, it was not because she was too busy. Yes, they knew the reason. They could not blame her. Nevertheless they wanted her back.

It did not take long after this to explain that Dorothy had resigned because Judith Stearns had been unfairly treated. Everyone who had been at the try-out must know that Judy Stearns had outplayed Marian Seaton. She had not been chosen but Marian had. Dorothy had protested to Miss Brown. It had done no good. So she had resigned.

Miss Rutledge had listened patiently to the tale poured forth by the justice-seeking quintette. When it had ended she quietly promised them that she would look into the matter and see what could be done.

On the following morning, Dorothy, Laura Nelson and Selina each found a note awaiting them in the house bulletin board, requesting them to call on Miss Rutledge at four-thirty that afternoon.

Dorothy was frankly puzzled over her note. Having a clear conscience she could think of no reason for the summons. Selina, however, was apprehensive. Immediately she jumped to the conclusion that Dorothy had reported her to Miss Rutledge. Laura was also of the same opinion.

As the two Creston Hall girls walked dejectedly down a corridor of Wellington Hall to the dean's office that afternoon, sight of Dorothy just ahead of them confirmed their worst fears.

Invited by Miss Rutledge to take seats, the three bowed distantly to one another.

"I sent for you three young women," began Miss Rutledge, "because of a rather peculiar story which has come to my ears concerning the recent basket-ball try-out. The freshman team is up in arms because you have given up referee's post, Miss Martin. They wish you to keep the position. They have requested me to take the matter up with you in their behalf."

Selina and Laura both looked amazement at this statement. It was certainly not what they had expected. Dorothy too showed marked surprise. An amused little smile hovered about her lips.

"It is nice in them to want me," she said gravely. "I appreciate their loyalty. That is all I can say."

"That is hardly enough to satisfy them or me," replied the dean. "I must ask you to tell me why you resigned your post."

"I would rather not answer that," Dorothy said with gentle firmness.

"Very well. I will ask you another question. Did you resign because you considered that Miss Stearns had been unfairly treated at the try-out?"

Dorothy hesitated, then answered with a low, "Yes."

"Please explain in what way she was unfairly treated," relentlessly pursued the dean.

"Miss Stearns made a better showing at the try-out than Miss Seaton. She was one of the five best players. Miss Seaton would have ranked eighth in my opinion. She was chosen instead of Miss Stearns."

"You were one of the judges, I believe?"

"Yes. My choice was Miss Stearns."

"You were also one of the judges, Miss Brown?"

The dean had now turned to Selina.

"Yes."

"And you, Miss Nelson?"

"Yes." A guilty flush dyed Laura's cheeks.

"Two against one in favor of Miss Seaton?" commented Miss Rutledge. "Let me ask you two young women this. Were you both satisfied in your own minds that Miss Seaton was the better player?"

"I was," declared Selina boldly.

"I—I——"

The scrutiny of the dean's steady eyes disconcerted Laura. She could not bring herself to look into them and utter a deliberate untruth.

"I—it was hard to judge between them," she finally faltered. "They—they were almost equally matched in my opinion."

"Still, you must have thought Miss Seaton a little the better player, else you would not have chosen her," asserted Miss Rutledge smoothly.

"We had the right to our opinion," broke in Selina quickly, determined to save Laura from crumpling to the point of blurting forth the truth.

"That is true," agreed the dean, "provided it was a fair opinion. Miss Martin states that it was not."

"Miss Martin has no business to say that," retorted Selina hotly.

"She has, if that is her opinion. She has the same privilege that you have," was the grave reminder. "According to the statement just made by Miss Nelson, she was not at all sure of Miss Seaton's playing superiority over that of Miss Stearns. In that case, why did you not order the game resumed, especially to test out these two players? That would have been the best method of procedure."

"Because it wasn't necessary. Miss Nelson gave her decision at once in favor of Miss Seaton."

"She seemed decidedly uncertain just now about it," said the dean dryly. "As it happens, the members of the freshman team are of the same opinion as Miss Martin. They claim that Miss Stearns completely outplayed Miss Seaton. That it was too evident to be overlooked. I might investigate this affair more thoroughly, but I do not wish to do so. As seniors, all of you should be above reproach. Each knows best, however, what is in her heart."

Laura wriggled uncomfortably, looking ready to cry. Selina put on an air of studied indifference. Dorothy presented the calm serenity of one whose integrity cannot be assailed.

For a long silent moment the dean's eyes traveled from face to face. Then she said:

"We shall settle this matter by another try-out to-morrow afternoon at half-past four. I shall attend it. When you leave here, Miss Brown, kindly post a notice in the bulletin board calling the sophomore team to practice to-morrow. State that it is by my order. Miss Martin, please notify Miss Stearns that I wish her to be there, also, ready to play. I will appoint two seniors to act with me as judges. I am familiar, as you know, with the game. This try-out will not affect the other members of the team. We shall drop one of them temporarily to give Miss Stearns the opportunity of playing against Miss Seaton. I rarely interfere in the matter of college sports, but in this instance I feel compelled to take action."

"I suppose, if Miss Stearns wins, it will mean the loss of my position as senior manager!" exclaimed Selina.

She was too thoroughly disgruntled to realize to whom she was speaking.

"Why should it? You have assured me of your honesty of purpose," flashed back the dean.

Selina's discourteous manner of addressing her she could ignore. The import of the speech was, however, another matter. It contained self-condemnation. Selina herself realized her mistake the instant Miss Rutledge replied. She turned red as a peony.

"I—I—just thought you might wish to appoint someone else," she said lamely.

"If you had admitted to me that you treated Miss Stearns unfairly, it would certainly become necessary to appoint another manager," replied Miss Rutledge. "You have not done so. In fact you have stated quite the opposite. On the contrary, I must also accept Miss Martin's word that she is speaking the truth as she sees it."

"Thank you, Miss Rutledge," was Dorothy's sole comment.

"If Miss Stearns wins against Miss Seaton at the new try-out it will be by pure luck," declared Selina, with a desperate attempt at retrieving her previous incautious remark.

"There will, at least, be no question of unfair treatment involved."

The blunt reply should have warned Selina that she was not bettering her case. Instead, her belated attempt at caution flew away on the wings of anger.

"I think it's very unfair to Marian Seaton to hold another try-out!" she exclaimed. "She won her position on the team fairly enough. This whole affair is nothing but a plot to put Miss Stearns on the team and drop Miss Seaton from it. Miss Stearns has four friends on the sophomore team who have persuaded the freshman team to do what they themselves don't dare do. As Miss Martin has frankly accused both Miss Nelson and myself of unfairness, I will say plainly that I think her a party to the plot. I dare say Miss Stearns knows all about it."

"Miss Brown, you are not here to criticize my methods," sternly rebuked the dean. "Granted that you are entitled to your own opinion, harsh as it is, you must either be in a position to prove your accusations or else not make them. Can you prove them?"

"No, I can't. Neither can Dorothy Martin prove hers."

"I can obtain the signatures of at least thirty girls who were of the same mind as myself at the try-out."

It had come to a point where Dorothy refused longer to remain mute. Incensed by Selina's bold attempt to malign her friends and herself, she now turned to Miss Rutledge and said:

"I wish you to know, Miss Rutledge, that the four sophomores chosen, besides Miss Seaton, to make the team fully intended to resign from it because of their loyalty to Miss Stearns. She begged them not to do so. She was very brave over the disappointment. I am positive that neither she nor her friends would be guilty of asking the girls of the freshman team to take up the matter. Certainly I would not."

"I know you would not," quietly reassured the dean. "We will drop this discussion where it now stands. It is unbecoming, to say the least. I am greatly annoyed that it should have arisen among members of the senior class. It is ended. Let it be forgotten. The try-out to-morrow will decide the question. I would prefer you not to give up your position as referee, Miss Martin. Will you reconsider your resignation?"

"I will, since you desire it." Dorothy bowed acquiescence.

"Then the matter is settled," was the concluding announcement. "I shall expect all three of you to be present at the try-out to-morrow afternoon."

This was virtually a command. Had Selina dared, she would have coldly declined to obey it. As it was she said nothing. Miss Rutledge's tones indicating that the interview was concluded, she rose, bade the dean a chilly "Good afternoon," and departed, accompanied by Laura.

Dorothy also rose to go, but the dean detained her with a kindly:

"Just a moment, Dorothy. I wish a private word with you. I know you too well to believe you to be at fault in this matter."

"I am not at fault, Miss Rutledge," was the composed answer. "I thank you for believing in me."

"There seems to be a great deal more behind this affair than appears on the surface," the dean said significantly.

"That is true," Dorothy affirmed. "Since the beginning of last year a struggle has been going on here at Wellington between right and wrong. The girl who represents right is too noble to complain. She will fight things out unaided, and she will win."

"You refer to Judith Stearns?" interrogated the dean.

"No; not Judith." Dorothy shook her head. "Judith has merely been used as a scapegoat. I would prefer not to say more. The girl who is in the right would not wish it. She has been advised to come to you, but refuses to do so. She is very determined on that point."

"And you approve of her stand?" The dean eyed Dorothy quizzically.

"Yes." Dorothy's affirmative came unhesitatingly. "I should feel the same under similar circumstances."

"Then you would advise me not to go too deeply into things?"

There was a decided twinkle in the dean's eyes as she said this. She had known Dorothy too long not to feel the utmost confidence in her.

"I can't imagine myself as advising Miss Rutledge," she said prettily, her sober face lighting into a smile.

The smile, instantly returned, indicated perfect understanding.

"I think you are right, Dorothy. I shall not interfere, except in the matter of a new try-out, unless I am approached by the girl of whom you speak. Frankly, I have no idea of whom she may be. These disagreements among the students at Wellington seldom reach my ears. When they do I always endeavor to see justice done the wronged party."

When Dorothy had presently left her, however, Miss Rutledge sat pondering over the intricacies of girl nature. Hailing from the far West she was inclined to view the world from a man's standpoint. She was, therefore, wholly in sympathy with a girl who could sturdily fight her own battles without asking help of anyone. She could almost wish that the identity of such an one might some day be revealed to her.