in her Form. She began a pair of socks for him at once. I
regret to say that Winona's patriotic knitting had languished very much
during the last two terms, but this personal stimulus revived her ardor.
She even took her sock to the tennis court, and, emulating the example
of Patricia Marshall and several other enthusiasts, got quite good
pieces done between the sets. She would have taken it to cricket also,
but Kirsty had sternly made a by-law prohibiting all knitting on the
pitch since Ellinor Cooper, when supposed to be fielding, had
surreptitiously taken her work from her pocket and missed the best catch
of the afternoon, to her everlasting disgrace and the scorn of the
indignant Games Captain.

Kirsty was keen at present upon each Form having its own Eleven, and had
arranged some school matches as trials of skill. The first of these,
Sixth _v._ Fifth, was fixed for the following Saturday afternoon.
Winona, to her ecstatic and delirious delight, had been elected captain
of the combined V.a. and V.b. Eleven, and she was looking forward to the
contest as one of the events of her life. She was aware that on its
success or failure might hang much of her future athletic career at
school, and she was determined to show of what stuff she was made. She
urged her team to make heroic efforts, and got all the practice in that
was available. On the Thursday afternoon she gave everybody a final
drilling. On Friday the pitch would be the property of the Lower School,
so this was the last opportunity of play before the match.

"If any of you muff the ball or do anything stupid, I'll never forgive
you!" she assured her Eleven. "The Sixth are A1 at fielding, so for
goodness' sake don't disgrace our Form. Beware of Patricia's bowling. It
looks simple, but it's the nastiest I know. I'd rather have Kirsty's any
day, because at least you know what to expect from her, and you're on
your guard. Don't try to be clever too soon; it's better not to score at
all during the first over than to run any risks. Evelyn, you were a
mascot to-day! I hope you'll play up equally well on Saturday. By the
by, Joyce, I really can't compliment you on your innings. What were you
thinking of to make that idiotic blind swipe?"

"I don't know!" returned Joyce dolefully. (She was sitting on the fence
looking decidedly crestfallen.) "I'm afraid I'm rather rocky to-day,
somehow."

"Got nerves? Girl alive! Do brace up!"

"No, it's not nerves. My head's been