<h3>The Athletic Display</h3>
<p>The Easter term was passing quickly away. It had been a strenuous but
nevertheless successful season. Out of nine hockey matches the team had
lost only three—not a bad record for a school that was still in the
infancy of its Games reputation. The Old Girls' Guild had got up its
eleven, and had practiced with enthusiasm under the captaincy of Kirsty
Paterson. A most exciting Past <i>versus</i> Present match had been played,
resulting in a narrow victory for the school. Winona felt prouder of
this success than of any other triumph the team had scored, for Kirsty
had congratulated her afterwards, and praise from her former captain was
very sweet. It had been the last match of the season, so it made a
satisfactory finish to her work. She felt quite sentimental as she put
by her hockey-stick. Next season there would be a fresh captain, and she
would have left the High School! She wished she were staying another
year, but her scholarship would expire at the end of July. She could
hardly believe that she had been nearly two years at the school, and
that only one term more remained to her. Well, it would be the summer
term, which was the pleasantest of all, and though hockey was over, she
had the cricket season before her. The Seaton High should score<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</SPAN></span> at the
wicket if it were in her power to coach a successful team.</p>
<p>Towards the end of March Winona had an interlude which for the time took
her thoughts even from the omnipresent topic of sports. Percy, who had
been in training with his regiment at Duncastle, was ordered to the
Front. He was allowed thirty-six hours' leave, and came home for a
Sunday. Winona spent that week-end at Highfield, and the memory of it
always remained a very precious one. Percy in his khaki seemed much
changed, and though she only had him for a few minutes quite to herself,
she felt that the old tie between them had strengthened. Her letters to
him in future would be different. During the last year they had both
slacked a little in their correspondence, each perhaps unconsciously
feeling that the other's standpoint was changing; now they had met again
on a new basis, and realized once more a common bond of sympathy. Percy,
absorbed in describing his new life, scarcely mentioned Aunt Harriet.
The episode of the burning of the paper seemed to have faded from his
memory, or he had conveniently buried it in oblivion. Winona had never
forgotten it. It remained still the one shadow in her career at Seaton.
Now especially, since Miss Beach's recent ill-health, the secret weighed
heavily upon her. She felt her aunt ought to know that the will was
destroyed, so that she might take the opportunity of making another.
More than once she tried indirectly to refer to the subject, but it was
a tender topic, and at the least hint Miss Beach's face would<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</SPAN></span> stiffen
and her voice harden; the old barrier between them would rise up again
wider than ever, and impossible to be spanned. Winona would have been
glad to do much for her aunt, but Miss Beach did not care to be treated
as an invalid. Like many energetic people, she refused to acknowledge
that she was ill, and the acceptance of little services seemed to her a
confession of her own weakness. It is rather hard to have your kindly
meant efforts repulsed, so Winona, finding that her offers of sympathy
met with no response, drew back into her shell, and the two continued to
live as before, on terms of friendship but never of intimacy. After
almost two years spent in the same house Winona knew her aunt little
better than on the day of her arrival. They had certain common grounds
for conversation, but their mutual reserve was maintained, and as
regarded each other's real thoughts they remained "strangers yet."</p>
<p>Miss Beach, however, took an interest in Winona's doings at school. She
read her monthly reports, and scolded her if her work had fallen below
standard. She expressed a guarded pleasure over successful matches, but
rubbed in the moral that games must not usurp her attention to the
detriment of her form subjects.</p>
<p>"You came here to learn something more than hockey!" she would remind
Winona. "It's a splendid exercise, but I'm afraid it won't prove a
career! I should like to see a better record for Latin and Chemistry;
they might very well have more attention!"<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Winona had tried to persuade her aunt to come and watch one of the
matches, but Miss Beach had always found some engagement; she was
concerned in so many of the city's activities that her time was
generally carefully mapped out weeks beforehand. She consented, however,
to accept Miss Bishop's invitation to the Gymnasium Display, which was
to be given at the High School at the close of the Easter term.</p>
<p>This was a very important occasion in the estimation of the girls. It
was their first athletic show since the advent of Miss Barbour, the
Swedish drill mistress. Governors and parents were to be present, and
the excellence of the performance must justify the large amount which
had been spent upon gymnastic apparatus during the past year.</p>
<p>For two whole terms Miss Barbour had been teaching and training her
classes with a view to this exhibition, and woe betide any unlucky wight
whose nerves, memory or muscles should fail her at the critical moment!
A further impetus was given to individual effort by the offer, on the
part of one of the Governors, of four medals for competition, to be
awarded respectively to the best candidates in four classes, Seniors
over 16, Intermediates from 13 to 16, Juniors from 10 to 13, and
Preparatories under 10. It was felt throughout the school that the offer
was munificent. The Governors had been stingy over the matter of the
hockey field, and had been reviled accordingly, but Councillor Jackson
was retrieving the character of the Board by this action, and the girls
reversed their opinion in his favor.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</SPAN></span> They hoped that other Governors,
warmed by his example, might open their hearts in silver medals or book
prizes for future occasions.</p>
<p>"He's a dear old trump to think of it!" said Winona.</p>
<p>"You drew a picture of him floundering in the mud at hockey!" twinkled
Garnet.</p>
<p>"Well, I forgive him now, and I'll draw another of him standing on the
platform, all beaming with benevolence, and distributing medals
broadcast. Look here, Bessie Kirk, you needn't be congratulating
yourself beforehand with such a patently self-satisfied smirk, because
<i>I'm</i> going to win the Senior Medal."</p>
<p>"No, you're not, my child! Take it patiently, and compose your mind. The
medal's coming this way!"</p>
<p>"How about me?" put in Marjorie Kemp.</p>
<p>"You'll do well, but you're not a champion! You're too fat, Jumbo, and
that's the fact. You're all right when it's a question of brute
strength, but when agility matters, those superfluous pounds of flesh of
yours are an impediment. I'd back Joyce sooner than you; she's as light
as a feather!"</p>
<p>Hearing herself commended, Joyce fluttered up to the group, smiling.</p>
<p>"I did four feet six, yesterday," she announced, "and I'd have cleared
four feet seven, I believe, only I had to stop. It's always my luck!"</p>
<p>"Why had you to stop?"</p>
<p>"My back ached!"<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Instant apprehension overspread the faces of her friends.</p>
<p>"Joyce Newton!" exclaimed Winona, "you're never going to get small-pox
again, and stop the athletic display?"</p>
<p>"You don't feel sick, or head-achy, or sore-throaty, do you?" implored
Bessie. "For goodness sake stand away, if you're infectious! I don't
want to be another contact case!"</p>
<p>"What pigs you are!" said Joyce plaintively, "One can't catch small-pox
twice!"</p>
<p>"But you might be going to get scarlet fever, or measles, or even
influenza!"</p>
<p>"Stop ragging! Mayn't I have a back-ache if I want? It's my own back!"</p>
<p>"Have as many back-aches as you choose, my hearty, but don't disseminate
germs! If the athletic display doesn't come off, I'll break my heart,
and you can write an epitaph over me:</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">"Here lies one who young in years,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Left this mortal vale of tears;<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Cruel fate hath knocked her down,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Tom from her the laurel crown,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">To win the gym display she sighed,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">But as she might not jump, she died!"<br/></span></div>
</div>
<p>"Look here!" said Marjorie. "I suppose the medal lies fairly well
between us four. I vote that we make a compact—whoever wins treats the
other three to ices! It would be some compensation for losing!"<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Good for you, Jumbo! I'm game!" agreed Bessie.</p>
<p>"If you'll undertake they'll be strawberry ices!" stipulated Winona.</p>
<p>"I mayn't eat ices, they disagree with me!" wailed Joyce, "but if you'll
make it chocolates."</p>
<p>"Done! I won't forget. Ices for Bessie and Winona, and a packet of
Cadbury's for Joyce. I'll go and be ordering them!" chirruped Marjorie,
dancing away.</p>
<p>"Cheek! Don't make so sure."</p>
<p>"It's <i>my</i> medal, so be getting your handkerchiefs ready," maintained
Winona.</p>
<p>Though Winona, just for the fun of teasing her friends, had pretended to
appropriate the prize, she had really no anticipation of winning. She
was fairly good at gymnasium work, but could not be considered a
champion. She knew her success or failure would depend very much on
luck. If she happened to feel in the right mood she might achieve
something, but it was an even chance that at the critical moment her
courage might fail her. In a match she was generally swept away by the
intense feeling of cooperation, the knowledge that all her team were
striving for a common cause buoyed her up, but in a competition where
each was for herself, the element of nervousness would have greater
scope. When she thought about it, she felt that she would probably be
shaking with fright.</p>
<p>The great day came at last. The Gymnasium was decorated with flags in
honor of the occasion, and pots of palms were placed upon the platform
where<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</SPAN></span> the Governors and a few of the most distinguished visitors were
accommodated with seats. Winona, marching in to take part in the senior
drill, gave one glance round the building, and grasped the fact that
Aunt Harriet was sitting on the platform next to Councillor Jackson, and
only a few places away from the expert who was to act as judge. She was
chatting affably with her august companions. Think of chatting with a
Governor! Winona felt that it was some credit to have such a relation!
She had not always been very sure how much she valued Aunt Harriet's
opinion, but this afternoon she longed to shine before her. Yet the very
wish to do so made her nervous. She glanced at her companions. Bessie
was looking stolidity itself, Marjorie's usually high color had reached
peony point, Joyce was palpably in the throes of stage fright. All were
soon marching and countermarching, swinging Indian clubs, and performing
the intricate maneuvers of Swedish drill. Fortunately they had practiced
well, and it went without a hitch. They breathed more freely as they
retired to the ante-room to make way for the babies who were to do
skipping exercises to music.</p>
<p>"It's more awful to show off before Governors than I expected!" sighed
Joyce. "I'm just shivering!"</p>
<p>"What'll you be at the rings, then?" asked Bessie.</p>
<p>"Silence!" urged Miss Lever, who was in charge of the ante-room.</p>
<p>The strains of "Little Grey Home in the West"<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</SPAN></span> and the regular thud of
small feet were wafted from the gymnasium.</p>
<p>"Don't you wish you were a kid again?" whispered Joyce.</p>
<p>"No, I don't!" retorted Bessie, so imprudently loud that Miss Lever
glared at her.</p>
<p>"It's horrid having to stay in here, where one can't see!" murmured
Marjorie under her breath.</p>
<p>They knew by the music, however, what was taking place. The juniors were
doing wand exercises, the intermediates followed with clubs.</p>
<p>"Our turn again soon," whispered Winona.</p>
<p>Olave Parry, from a vantage post near the door, could see into the
gymnasium, and report progress. Her items of news passed in whispers
down the ranks. The babies had skipped like a row of cherubs, and the
Governors were wreathed in smiles. Kitty Carter had dropped one of her
clubs, and it nearly hit a visitor on the head, but fortunately missed
her by half an inch. Laura Marshall was performing prodigies on the
horizontal ladder—she undoubtedly had a chance for a medal. Bursts of
applause from the audience punctuated the performance. Olave continued
her report, which Miss Lever, who took occasional excursions into the
gymnasium, verified from time to time. The juniors were competing now.
Natalie Powers was about to do the ring exercises. It was a swing and a
pull-up in front, and she managed that neatly, but when it came to the
swing and the turn, she lost her nerve, turned too soon and spun round
helplessly in the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</SPAN></span> air until Miss Barbour hurried to her aid. Natalie
was done for, without doubt! It was a good thing she had not fallen and
hurt herself. Her rivals were rope-climbing. Madge Collins had reached
the top in six seconds, and was sliding down again, to the accompaniment
of loud clapping. Lennie Roberts had beaten her, for she had performed
the same feat in exactly five seconds. The juniors were in a ferment of
excitement. The interest of the audience had waxed to enthusiasm point.</p>
<p>"Seniors!" announced Miss Lever briefly, and the row of waiting figures
in the ante-room fell into line, and marched into the gymnasium for the
special trials. The Swedish drill exercises, where all worked together,
had not seemed half so formidable. A well practiced part is not easily
forgotten even by a nervous girl, if it must be done in company with
others. It was another matter, however, to perform single athletic feats
before a big audience. For a moment Winona turned almost dizzy with
fright. The big room seemed full of eyes, every one of which would be
watching her when it came to her turn. She looked round with the feeling
of a martyr in the arena, and for a moment met the calm steady gaze of
Miss Beach. Winona said afterwards that Aunt Harriet must have
mesmerized her, for in that second of recognition she felt a sudden rush
of courage. The thrill of the contest took possession of her, and every
nerve and muscle, every atom of her brain, was alert to do its best. She
would let Aunt Harriet see that, though she might fail sometimes in form
work, she could hold her own at gymnastics.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Contestants climbed, traveled on rings, and vaulted the horse. Winona
seemed to herself as easy and agile as she had ever been. She had a
possible chance of winning, and her heart exulted. Then came the
ladders. Up and up she went, holding herself now by her hands and now by
her feet swinging for her hold. She had thought she was light, but now
she suddenly realized how heavy she was! She summoned every bit of
strength as she went down the ladder. From one contest to another she
passed, doing her best.</p>
<p>Last of all came the rings. Winona swung out, grasped the next ring, and
so on down the line. Oh, how many there were! She had never before
realized what it meant to weigh 7 st. 10 lbs. She held her breath as she
reached for the next ring, but it slipped from her fingers. Only for a
second, however, for she caught it on the next swing, and a moment later
was waiting at the end. Bessie was just starting. Down the line she
traveled, not so gracefully, perhaps, as Winona, but catching her ring
on every swing. Joyce followed, but mid-way her courage deserted her,
and she failed utterly. Marjorie came next. She was doing well surely!
She was nearly through, reached for the last ring, missed it, and fell!
There was an instant murmur of consternation from the audience. Was she
injured? She sprang up unhurt, however, though deeply humiliated.</p>
<p>Thrilling in every nerve, Winona started back. Refreshed by her little
rest, she swung lightly, steadily and unfalteringly, never missing a
ring till she<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</SPAN></span> came to the end. She was almost too occupied to notice
the cheers. Bessie reached mid-way, then missed a ring, caught it on the
second swing, missed another, and reached for it three times before she
caught it and finished her course.</p>
<p>The girls had been too much excited for comparisons. They scarcely
guessed how their averages would stand. Winona had a general impression
that Bessie had scored at vaulting, and Marjorie had undoubtedly cleared
the rope at four feet eight. Her own performances seemed lost in a haze;
she had noticed the judge jot down something, but she felt incapable of
reckoning her chances.</p>
<p>The judge was conferring with Miss Bishop at the back of the platform,
and while the room waited for their decision the school marched, singing
an Empire song.</p>
<p>At last the judge stepped to the front of the platform. The singing
ceased. Winona's heart beat suffocatingly.</p>
<p>"I have great pleasure in giving the results," announced the judge.
"Preparatory prize, Elaine Jennings; Junior prize, Lennie Roberts;
Intermediate prize, Laura Marshall; Senior prize, Winona Woodward."</p>
<p>The applause was ringing out lustily. Bessie, Marjorie and Joyce were
pressing congratulations upon her. Miss Bishop (actually the Head!) was
looking at her and smiling approval. Miss Lever was telling her to walk
forward. In a delirious whirl, Winona climbed the steps on the platform.
As Councillor Jackson pinned the medal on to her<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</SPAN></span> tunic, a storm of
clapping and cheers rose from the school. Their Games Captain was
popular, and everybody felt it right and fitting that this afternoon she
should have proved herself the athletic champion.</p>
<p>"Don't forget the ices!" whispered Bessie, as Winona rejoined Marjorie
and Joyce.</p>
<p>"We'll stop at the café on the way home, and you shall each choose what
you like!" declared Winona, with spendthrift liberality.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</SPAN></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></SPAN>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />