There was a childlike appeal in Grace’s voice that grated so on Miriam’s nerves, at that moment that she deliberately turned and walked away, leaving Grace standing alone.

“Wait a minute, Miriam,” called Nora, who, with some of the other sophomores, had been watching the scene.  “You aren’t ill to-day, are you?”

“No,” replied Miriam angrily.

“Because, if you are really ill, you know,” continued Nora, “your sub. could take your place.  Anna Ray can play a great deal better game than you played the first half.”

Miriam turned on Nora furiously, and was about to make one of her most violent replies, when the whistle blew and the girls flew to their places.

Julia Crosby and Grace smiled at each other in the most friendly fashion as they stood face to face for the last time that season.  There was nothing but good-natured rivalry between them now.

The referee balanced the ball for an instant, her whistle to her lips.  Then the ball shot up, her whistle sounded and the great decisive last half had begun.

Grace managed to bat the ball as it descended in the direction of one of her eager forwards who tried for the basket and just missed it.  The juniors made a desperate attempt to get the ball into their territory, but the sophomores were too quick for them, and Nora made a brilliant throw to goal that caused the sophomore fans to cheer with wild enthusiasm.

It was a game long to be remembered.  Both teams fought with a determination and spirit that caused their fans in the gallery to shout themselves hoarse.  The juniors made some plays little short of marvellous, and five minutes before the last half was over the score stood 8 to 6 in favor of the sophomores.

“This game will end in a tie if they’re not careful,” exclaimed Hippy.  “No, Nora has the ball!  She’ll score if anyone can!  Put her home, Nora!” he yelled excitedly.

Nora was about to make one of the lightning goal throws for which she was noted, when like a flash Miriam Nesbit seized the ball from her, and attempted to make the play herself.  But her aim was inaccurate.  The ball flew wide of the basket and was seized by a junior guard.  The tie seemed inevitable.

A groan went up from the gallery.  Then a distinct hiss was heard, and a second later the entire sophomore class hissed Miriam Nesbit.

Miss Thompson rose, thinking to call the house to order, but sat down again, shaking her head.

“They know what they are about,” she said, for Grace herself did not know the game any better than the principal.  “It was inexcusable of Miriam, inexcusable and intentional.  In attempting to gratify her own vanity she has prevented her side from scoring at a time when all personal desire should be put aside.  She really deserves it.”

But the score was not tied after all, for the junior guard fumbled the ball, dropped it and before she could regain possession of it, it was speeding toward Marian Barber, thrown with unerring accuracy by Grace.  Up went Marian’s hands.  She grasped it, then hurled it with all her might, straight into the basket.  Five seconds later the whistle blew, with the score 10 to 6.