“Just the same,” objected Weasie Blair, “she might take time to celebrate. The Uppercuts don’t often blow us to a feed like this.” “We accept the compliment,” responded Isobel Talmadge. “I have been wondering why someone has not seen fit to say the eating was good.” This brought forth such a storm of compliments, given in chorus without very much harmony, that the Uppercuts, as the freshmen call the upper class girls, finally begged for mercy. “And what became of Marian?” asked Mildred Jennings. “Seems to me all played well enough to be patted on the back, even if Team One did win out.” “Indeed you did,” Jane quickly replied, “and I hope Marian will come in and test the lovely spread. Naturally she felt badly about Dolorez. I can’t see why Dol rushed football tactics in.” The moment she made the remark Jane regretted it. She had not intended to refer to Dolorez’s disqualification. And now she had brought attention directly to it. The hum of subdued voices plainly agreed with Jane in their arguments. Marian should have stood her ground and helped her team celebrate, if not victory, then defeat! “Well, it is no news to have Jane for Center,” spoke up Gloria Gude, when the Marian incident had been disposed of. “We knew she would be center, ever since the term opened. Who else made a record anything like hers of last year?” “Of course,” chimed in Grazia. “Jane is born Center. She knows just when to jump—I wouldn’t wonder if she jumps in her sleep, eh, Jane?” “Now, girls, you all know as well as I do that there is plenty of splendid basketball talent sitting right here at this table. And the fact that you have made me Center——” “Means merely that you are the one best, dandy, all around Center we could choose,” interrupted Dorothy Blyden. “Three cheers for Jane Allen, Center!” “Hip-hip-hoorah!” and the echo shook the rafters. Then came the epidemic of: “I know a girl and her name is Jane,” etc. “Say, girls,” moaned Jane, when throats gave in and the shouts ceased, “if there is any way of getting a name changed without paying income tax on the change, I think I’ll apply. You all know that girl whose name is Jane——” Came the— “A reebald—a ribald—reebald, ribald rum! Wellington! Wellington! Sis boom—ah—Wellington! Wellington! Rah! Rah! Rah!” CHAPTER XXIII—THE BARN SWIFTS—A TRAGEDY “And now for the Barn Swifts.” “Everyone is crazy to come, Dickey. I’m afraid we will have an overflow.” “Oh, yes, of course. I suppose Nell will completely douse all the rest of us. That’s the way with foolish college girls. First they cut and then they plaster.” “Now, Dickey, you know you are Nell’s best friend.” “That’s just it. I am and have always been her friend. I know a thoroughbred when I see one, but these other folks,” and Dickey made a gesture of disgust. “They make me tired. I heard Toney and Tim planning to give her flowers.” “You did?” “Yes, I did.”