“Thank you, David,” answered Grace.  “You are always looking after our interests.  I wonder what those juniors are planning.  They are obliged to play a fair game, for they know perfectly well what will happen if they don’t.  Miss Thompson will be there to-morrow, and they know she has her eye on them.”

“Put not your trust in juniors,” cautioned David.  “They may elude even her watchful eye.”

“You are coming to see us play to-morrow, aren’t you, David?” asked Grace.

“I’ll be there before the doors are open, with Reddy and Hippy at my heels,” responded David.  “Good-bye, Grace.  Look out for squalls to-morrow.”

CHAPTER VI

THE DEEPEST POSSIBLE DISGRACE

A feeling of depression swept over Grace Harlowe as she looked out the window the next morning.  The rain was falling heavily and the skies were sullen and gray.

“What a miserable day for the game,” was her first thought.  “I do hope the rain won’t keep people away.  This weather is enough to discourage any one.”

All morning she watched anxiously for the clouds to lift, going from window to door until her mother told her to stop fretting about the weather and save her strength for the coming game.

The game was set for two o’clock, but at one, Grace put on her raincoat and set out for the High School.  She knew she was early, but she felt that she couldn’t stay in the house a minute longer.

One by one the sophomore team and its substitutes assembled, but the rain had dampened their spirits and the enthusiasm of the past few days had left them.

Grace looked worried, as she noticed how listless her players seemed.  She wished it had been one of those cold, crisp days that set the blood tingling and make the heart beat high with hope.

Still Grace felt confident that her team would rise to the occasion when the game was called.  They were two well-trained, too certain of their powers to ever think of failing.

The bad weather had evidently not depressed the spirits of their opponents.  The juniors stood about laughing and talking.  Julia Crosby moved from one girl to the other whispering slyly.

“Wretch!” thought Grace.  “How disagreeable she is.  She was born too late.  She should have lived in the middle ages, when plotting was the fashion.  She is anything but a credit to her class and dear old Oakdale High School.”

Grace’s rather vehement reflections were cut short by the approach of Miss Thompson, who stopped to say a word of cheer to the girls before taking her seat in the gallery.

“Well, Grace,” she said, “this is a rather bad day outside, but still there will be a few loyal souls to cheer you on to victory.  May the best man win.  You must put forth every energy if you expect to conquer the juniors, however.  They have held the championship a long time.”