For two whole terms Miss Barbour had been teaching and training her classes with a view to this exhibition, and woe betide any unlucky wight whose nerves, memory or muscles should fail her at the critical moment!  A further impetus was given to individual effort by the offer, on the part of one of the Governors, of four medals for competition, to be awarded respectively to the best candidates in four classes, Seniors over 16, Intermediates from 13 to 16, Juniors from 10 to 13, and Preparatories under 10.  It was felt throughout the school that the offer was munificent.  The Governors had been stingy over the matter of the hockey field, and had been reviled accordingly, but Councillor Jackson was retrieving the character of the Board by this action, and the girls reversed their opinion in his favor.  They hoped that other Governors, warmed by his example, might open their hearts in silver medals or book prizes for future occasions.

“He’s a dear old trump to think of it!” said Winona.

“You drew a picture of him floundering in the mud at hockey!” twinkled Garnet.

“Well, I forgive him now, and I’ll draw another of him standing on the platform, all beaming with benevolence, and distributing medals broadcast.  Look here, Bessie Kirk, you needn’t be congratulating yourself beforehand with such a patently self-satisfied smirk, because I’m going to win the Senior Medal.”

“No, you’re not, my child!  Take it patiently, and compose your mind.  The medal’s coming this way!”

“How about me?” put in Marjorie Kemp.

“You’ll do well, but you’re not a champion!  You’re too fat, Jumbo, and that’s the fact.  You’re all right when it’s a question of brute strength, but when agility matters, those superfluous pounds of flesh of yours are an impediment.  I’d back Joyce sooner than you; she’s as light as a feather!”

Hearing herself commended, Joyce fluttered up to the group, smiling.

“I did four feet six, yesterday,” she announced, “and I’d have cleared four feet seven, I believe, only I had to stop.  It’s always my luck!”

“Why had you to stop?”

“My back ached!”

Instant apprehension overspread the faces of her friends.

“Joyce Newton!” exclaimed Winona, “you’re never going to get small-pox again, and stop the athletic display?”

“You don’t feel sick, or head-achy, or sore-throaty, do you?” implored Bessie.  “For goodness sake stand away, if you’re infectious!  I don’t want to be another contact case!”

“What pigs you are!” said Joyce plaintively, “One can’t catch small-pox twice!”

“But you might be going to get scarlet fever, or measles, or even influenza!”

“Stop ragging!  Mayn’t I have a back-ache if I want?  It’s my own back!”

“Have as many back-aches as you choose, my hearty, but don’t disseminate germs!  If the athletic display doesn’t come off, I’ll break my heart, and you can write an epitaph over me: