The Winnebagos and their company would have fled away and hidden themselves, but no, they must march back onto the field with the Hillsdale company to hear the decision of the judges.  It was a fearful ordeal, that standing up before the disappointed citizens of Oakwood to hear their triumphantly smiling rivals pronounced the victors, one that taxed the courage and composure of the girls to the utmost.  With a desperate effort to appear blandly indifferent to the decision they stood frozen stiff at attention, carefully avoiding every eye in the audience.  The spokesman of the judges stood up and prolonged the torture five long minutes, by complimenting first one company and then the other upon different points of their performance.  It seemed he would never come to the point and pronounce Hillsdale the winner.  All that time Agony stood there, acutely conscious of the dust on her dress, boiling with fury at Oh-Pshaw because she had caused her to make a spectacle of herself.  The taunt, “Oakwood Squad, Awkw’d Squad,” still rankled in her breast.

The spokesman came to the point at last, and with much flowery language announced that “all things considered, Hillsdale had displayed a greater degree of excellency,” etc.  A splitting cheer went up from the Hillsdale visitors; the Oakwood citizens were glum and silent.  With a last desperate effort to maintain an outwardly Stoic attitude the Winnebagos marched with their company from the field.  It was all over.  Oakwood had trusted in them, and they had not fulfilled the trust.

Once inside the shelter of their tent the company gave way to tears in some spots and to wrath in others.  Agony turned furiously upon Oh-Pshaw and vented her rage and disappointment in angry up-braidings; Hinpoha wept unconsolably; Gladys looked a world of reproach whenever she turned to Oh-Pshaw, and even gentle Migwan exclaimed in a voice that was sharp with disappointment, “Oh, Oh-Pshaw, how could you?”

Poor Oh-Pshaw!  She felt as though she could never hold up her head again.  She could never be a Torch Bearer now; she had disgraced the Winnebagos, they would never have anything more to do with her.  Agony, her beloved twin, had turned against her; there was nothing left in the world for her now.  With quivering lips and smarting eyes she slipped out of the tent and lost herself in the crowd outside.  The rest did not notice her going; they were too busy lamenting.  By and by Sahwah looked around and missed her.

“Where’s Oh-Pshaw?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” replied Hinpoha, noticing for the first time that she was no longer in the tent.  “She was here a minute ago.”

“She’d better run and hide,” sputtered Agony, still vindictive in her wounded pride.

Sahwah stared at Agony thoughtfully and her sympathy went out to Oh-Pshaw, having to bear the whole brunt of their disaster, her whole day spoiled for her.  Other features of the celebration were going on in Oakwood; the pageant of the Early Founders was beginning.  “Come on out and see what’s going on,” said Sahwah, who hated to miss anything, even for the melancholy pleasure of crying over spilt milk.