lf to death over that one ball. It really
doesn't matter an atom!"

And as they had now reached the school buildings, she let go of Gerry's
arm, and with a kindly smile and an encouraging pat on her shoulder,
she sent the Lower Fifth girl off to the dormitory to change, not a
little comforted.

CHAPTER XI

A LESSON IN HOCKEY

But the comforted feeling did not last very long. There was no
monitress on duty in the Pink Dormitory when Gerry reached it, both
Muriel and Monica, who sometimes acted as the head girl's understudy,
having been detained downstairs, and Dorothy Pemberton was taking
advantage of that fact to change from her hockey things to her ordinary
school attire in Phyllis Tressider's cubicle. Through the half-drawn
curtains the two saw Gerry go by, and immediately brought their
conversation round to the new girl's display of cowardice upon the
playing-field.

"Wasn't it a shame we didn't win the match?" lamented Phyllis. "If it
hadn't been for German Gerry's funking that ball we must have won."

"Sickening, isn't it?" agreed Dorothy, raising her voice so that there
could be no possible doubt about the occupant of the next cubicle
hearing the remark. "I can't _think_ what made Muriel play her! I
shouldn't think she ever would again!"

"Fancy being afraid of a hockey ball!" said Phyllis scornfully.

"Perhaps it was the sight of Jack that frightened her," suggested
Dorothy. "Jack owes her something for the way German Gerry stopped her
playing in that hockey trial. Perhaps she thought Jack was going to
take it out of her then with a hockey stick!"

A little choked sound from next door assured the two that their shots
were going home, and encouraged them to further efforts.

"I bet Muriel felt pretty ratty when the German turned tail," Phyllis
went on maliciously. "Even Monica looked fed up--I guess she won't
take German Gerry's part any more! And as for Muriel--I shouldn't
think she'd ever speak to Gerry again! Muriel simply _hates_ cowards."

Dorothy racked her brains for another hurting remark. But before she
could think of one, rapid steps came down the corridor, and the next
minute the cubicle curtain was thrust aside, and the head girl, flushed
with indignation, appeared before the two conspirators' horrified eyes.

"There's one thing I hate even worse than cowards," said Muriel, with
mingled contempt and anger, "and that is _sneaks_! It's one of the
meanest, sneakiest thing