lf-hearted,
diffident fashion, quite the opposite of their whirlwind sweep during
the first half. The black and scarlet girls soon brought the score up to
14 to 10 in their favor, and from that moment on had things decidedly
their own way. Time after time Mignon cut in desperately for the basket
to receive a pass, but on each occasion her team-mates made a wild
throw. Marjorie's team, however, played with perfect unity, working in
several successful signal plays. Try as she might, the French girl could
do nothing to arouse her players. Their passing became so delinquent
that once or twice it brought derisive groans from the male spectators
in the gallery. As the second half neared its end, Muriel Harding made a
sensational throw to basket that aroused the gallery to wild enthusiasm.
It also served to take the faint remaining spirit from the disheartened
grays, and the game wound up with a score of 30 to 12 in favor of the
black and scarlet girls. They had won a complete and sweeping victory
over their unworthy opponents.

It was a proud moment for Marjorie Dean, as she stood surrounded by a
flock of jubilant boys and girls, who had rent the gallery air with
appreciative howls, then hustled from their places aloft to offer their
congratulations to the victors.

"I'm so glad you won, Marjorie," cried Ellen Seymour. Lowering her
voice, she added: "I could see a few things. I'm not the only one. But
what happened to them? They actually played fairly in the second
half--all except Mignon. But she couldn't do much by herself."

Marjorie smiled faintly. "We must have discouraged them, I suppose. We
never before worked together so well as we played in that second half.
Wasn't that a wonderful throw to basket that Muriel made?"

"Splendid," agreed Ellen warmly. "I predict an easy victory for the
sophomores on Thanksgiving Day."

Marjorie breathed relief. "Are you coming to see us play, or are you
going away for Thanksgiving?" was her tactful question.

Ellen plunged into a voluble recital of her Thanksgiving plans, quite
forgetting her curiosity over the sudden change of tactics of the
defeated grays. Several girls joined in the conversation, and thus the
talk drifted away from the subject Marjorie wished most to avoid.

In Mignon's dressing room, however, a veritable tornado had burst. Four
sullen, gray-clad girls bowed their heads before the storm of
passionate reproaches hurled upon them by their irate leader. They wer