“Oh! how precious!” shouted the girls.

Nobody had imagined Winona capable of such a feat.  She at once became the focus of all eyes.  It had not occurred to the High School that there was a real possibility of their winning the match.  They had expected to make a gallant fight and be defeated, retiring with all the honors of war.  Perhaps the Ladies’ Club team, who had come to the field secure of victory, began to feel pangs of uneasiness under their white jerseys.  The situation was supreme.  The score had become even.  Could the School possibly do it?  That was the question.  All looked to Winona for the answer.  She was playing like one inspired.  She had not realized her own capacities before:  the wild excitement of the moment seemed to lend wings to her feet and strength and skill to her arm.  One heroic, never-to-be-forgotten stroke, and the ball was spinning between the posts.  It was a magnificent finish.  Frantic applause rose up from the spectators.  The High School cheered its champions in a glorious roar of victory.  The Ladies’ Club team were magnanimous enough to offer congratulations, and their captain shook hands with Winona.

“Glad to see how your standard’s gone up!” she remarked to Kirsty aside.  “That half-back of yours is worth her salt!”

Kirsty was literally purring with satisfaction.  Last year the High School had been badly beaten in more than half its matches.  This was indeed a new page in its records.

On Monday morning Winona received a message summoning her to the prefects’ room.  She found Margaret, Kirsty, and the other school officers assembled there.

“Winona Woodward,” said the head girl, “we have decided to present you with the School Service Badge, in recognition of your play on Saturday.  It is felt that you really secured the match, and as this is our first great victory we consider you deserve to have it recorded in your favor.  Your name has been entered in the book.  Come here!”

Winona turned crimson as Margaret pinned the daisy badge on to her blouse.

“I—­I’ve been only too proud to do what I can!” she blurted out.  “Thanks most awfully!”

CHAPTER X

A Scare

The Spring Term came to a close with a very fair number of hockey successes to be placed to the credit of the Seaton High School.  Compared with last year’s record it was indeed a great improvement, and Kirsty felt that though they had not yet established a games reputation, they at any rate showed good promise of future achievements.  She hoped to do much in the cricket and tennis season, though she certainly acknowledged there was much to be done.  The cricket so far had been such a half-hearted business that she doubted the advisability of making any fixtures.