Things were happening thick and fast these days. Classes and study hall were realities. Rainy weather cut the soccer season short. Mimi, to whom the game was new, stayed on first but did not make the team. She was flashy and fast but she was used to making goals with her hands and not her feet. Now when basket ball practice started—and it did this week—she would show them something. There had been a long letter from Mother Dear from New York mailed the day they sailed; a letter from Dottie with all the B. G. Hi news. Mimi had answered Dot with news that she was on the Prep tennis double team. She omitted soccer. Dot didn’t play soccer anyhow. The literary clubs had started rushing, placards of the first artist concert were posted and six weeks’ tests were beginning to bob up their ugly heads. Sue was gaining weight, Chloe growing most distant, and Betsy and Mimi continued to admire each other secretly but antagonize each other publicly. Something was bound to happen to break the growing tension. Two weeks later it did.  
When Mimi grew up and looked back at her school days, she knew that the scene of her most exciting moments was the gymnasium. Here she yelled her breath out, played her heart out, knew defeat as well as victory. Here she was her best or her worst. Basket ball meant more to her even than swimming. You swam by yourself but basket ball depended on the perfect and teamwork of your team mates to whom you felt closer than any other group of girls, ever.
 
The first day the notice was up, Mimi reported for basket ball. Strangely enough she and Betsy both signed up for the forward . When Mimi saw Betsy’s square, back-handed signature under her own, she had a bad moment. Perhaps she should have signed up for running center. She had played running guard but Sheridan kept to girls’ rules. As guard she could not score and, being a good shot, she wanted a position where she could prove her ability.
 
Mimi never forgot those first skirmishes. How hard she tried to pass , aim carefully, catch the ball firmly and be light, sure, fast. Miss Bassett was a splendid coach. She tried first one combination and then another. Betsy and Jennie forwards, Mimi and Jennie centers. Evelyn and Betsy centers. Matilda and Mimi guards. She had let the girls choose tryout positions but she wanted to be sure they were playing where they would give the team most. Then came the combination which clicked. Betsy and Mimi at forwards together. Mimi made what appeared impossibly long shots rather than pass to Betsy under the goal. Betsy called loudly to guards and centers for the ball and shot quickly from any angle she received it rather than pass to Mimi. They looped goal after goal.
 
“How about that combination?” Miss Bassett asked Dit while the girls rested. Dit was calling the game and Miss Bassett had been studying the players from the side lines.
 
“Best yet,” Dit answered, tapping her forehead thoughtfully with her whistle, “if we can get that individual starring idea out of their heads and make them play for the team.”
 
“Signal practice will do that,” Miss Bassett assured her. She had taken individuals before and welded them into a team that put, “team, team, team” above everything.
 
“Give them ten more minutes of drill and dismiss them, please, Dit. I’m going to the office.”
 
“All right, girls,” Dit said, and when she they listened closely. “We are going to practice and shooting. Divide up quickly in two line, one on either side the basket and let the leaders be as far back as the first court line so that there will be room to run and before you shoot. Here I’ll show you.”
 
She didn’t need to show Mimi. She knew. Nothing was more fun than a pass solidly as she ran forward. Usually Mimi leaped forward to meet the ball. Then with one foot rooted firmly, she knew how to pivot away from the guard and let the ball fly swiftly toward the goal. Mimi held her breath those times when the ball would loop around the edge of the before it finally slipped through the knotted string basket.
 
Happily she to her place. Today she would show Dit how fast and accurate she really was. She would show up better than she ever had. Out of the corners of her merry blue eyes she saw Betsy in the opposite line with the same look on her face. The whistle blew. , thump, thump went the ball against the slick floor as the first passer down the side line before throwing the ball. Thud—the ball hit the backboard. A girl rushed in to catch it before it hit the floor, ducking to keep from colliding with the girl who had just shot. Two girls more and it would be her time. Mimi was impatient—smack—she caught the ball—thump, thump, thump she was running beside it. Accurately timing the speed of Betsy who was coming in fast she passed, then as swiftly as her legs would carry her, she raced toward the goal. She forgot everything in the world except the fact that she must keep her eye on that ball and catch it before it hit the floor. Betsy was moving rapidly with the same idea, “keep your eye on the ball.” Coaches have preached it year in and year out since there have been coaches.
 
Thud—the ball against the backboard again. Mimi’s arms up to catch it—Betsy rushing away, arms up from having shot—Whack!
 
The two girls collide——
 
Betsy is knocked out. Mimi staggers back, her hands covering her face. When Betsy moans she drops her hands. The feeling vanishes. Betsy is hurt, badly hurt Mimi fears. While Dit dismissed the girls, Mimi drops on her knees beside Betsy. Betsy’s eyes are closed, the lids fluttering slightly. Her face, usually so and , is white and still. Her short hair is stuck to her head with . More than anything in the world, Mimi wanted Betsy to open her eyes.
 
“Dit, please, open both those windows,” Mimi pleaded, choking back a . “Oh, Dit——”
 
“There, there, Mimi. She’ll come around soon. Here, bathe her face with this wet towel.”
 
Mimi lifted Betsy’s head to her knees and holding it gently, she put the cold cloth on her forehead. A lump was rising on Betsy’s temple. She and opened her eyes as Mimi unwittingly touched it.
 
“Oh,” Betsy cried.
 
“Take it easy, Betsy. You’re all right now. A nasty bump. Here, Mimi, let’s help her up and get her to her room. I’ve sent for Miss Bassett to meet us there.”
 
“I can get up,” Betsy said weakly.
 
Mimi lifted from one side and Dit at the other. Mimi avoided Betsy’s eyes. She hoped against hope Betsy wouldn’t think she had done it on purpose.
 
Miss Bassett was waiting in the door of Tumble Inn. Sue and Chloe were out.
 
“Lie down, Betsy. There, now let me look you over.”
 
Miss Bassett her arms, arched her knees.
 
“Nothing but a ‘goose egg’ on your head. it with Mentholatum, Mimi. Better rest until supper.”
 
When Mimi leaned over Betsy to rub her forehead she felt a warm from her nose.
 
“Why, Mimi!” Dit exclaimed. “Your blouse—blood—it’s your nose.”
 
“Yes ma’am. It hurts!”
 
Mimi sank down on the bed by Betsy.
 
Miss Bassett was instantly alert. Light as her touch was, it hurt fearfully. The blood was dripping down her throat gagging her. Pains were shooting through her head. She could feel her nose . What a sight she must look!
 
“Fracture,” Miss Bassett pronounced gravely. “Dit, go for Dr. Ansley. She left me a short time ago for the Infirmary. Don’t be frightened, Mimi. It isn’t serious. I don’t believe you’ll need splints but we’d better let Dr. Ansley take a look.”
 
“Will I have to go to the Infirmary? Please, please, let me stay here.”
 
“Please,” Betsy added earnestly. “I’ll take care of her and keep things quiet.”
 
Daddy never seemed so far away—Daddy with his sure, skilled hands and his make-you-feel-better manner. But Mimi was brave. She sat quietly in the straight chair by the window while Dr. Ansley worked on her. Betsy watched intently. She was smiling at Mimi, her eyes saying, “good sport, good sport, be brave.” Returning the smile, Mimi swallowed the two capsules the doctor held out.
 
The thing which hurt most was the slow that she was out of basket ball for the season. Some one else would play forward with Betsy.
 
Betsy must have known her bitter thoughts, for after the Doctor, Miss Bassett, and Dit had gone she said:
 
“I’d rather play forward with you than any one.”
 
Knowing what the admission must have cost, Mimi replied: “Me too, and now I can’t play at all!”
 
“It’s my fault because I didn’t watch where I was going.”
 
“I didn’t either.”
 
“I am going to do something nice to make up for it.”
 
Mimi fell asleep wondering what it would be. Nothing could be as precious as what she had lost but Betsy had said it was nice and Betsy kept her word.