nded Marjorie, slipping her arm through that of her
friend. Constance walked a few steps in stolid silence. She could not
make up her mind to watch the playing of the girls whom she felt she
hated, even to please Marjorie. It was not until they were about to
separate that Marjorie said quietly. "Shall I tell mother you are
coming?" and Constance forced herself to reply shortly, "I'll come."

By half past one Saturday afternoon every seat in the large gallery
surrounding the gymnasium was filled, and by a quarter to two every
square foot of standing room was occupied by an enthusiastic audience
largely composed of boys and girls of the two high schools. Marjorie's
mother had after some little coaxing consented to come to the game with
her daughter as her guest. She sat with Constance and Marjorie in the
first row of the gallery, while beside her sat none other than Miss
Archer, whom they had encountered on their way to the high school and
who had invited them to take seats in the front row with her. She had
already met Mrs. Dean at the church which both women attended and had
conceived an instant liking for the pretty, gracious woman who looked
little older than her daughter.

"Wasn't it nice of Miss Archer to ask us to sit here?" whispered
Marjorie in her friend's ear. "We have mother to thank for it. She is so
dear that no one can help liking her." Marjorie looked adoring
admiration at her mother's clear-cut profile. "Do you suppose anyone
will mistake us for faculty?"

Both girls giggled softly at such an improbability.

"I never went to a basketball game before," confessed Constance after a
time. "What are those girls over there in the red paper hats and big red
bows going to do?"

"Oh, that's the sophomore class. They lead their class in the songs. The
green and purple girls are the freshman chorus."

"I didn't even know our class colors were green and purple."

"You didn't! Why, that's the reason you and I wore violets to the dance.
Almost every freshman had them."

"Oh, look!" Constance's eyes were fixed upon a tiny purple figure that
had just emerged from a side door in the gymnasium and was walking
slowly across the big floor. Immediately afterward a door opened on the
opposite side and a diminutive scarlet-clad boy flashed forth.

"They are the mascots," explained Marjorie, her gaze on the two children
who advanced to the center of the room and gravely shook hands. Then the
boy in red announced in a h