On the wings France and Peggy, as fast as their opponents, were always dangerous and several times carried the ball right to the goal circle, but could not break through the school defence. Carslake's, too, was defending gallantly against a dashing forward line. Duane in the centre held Paddy and her two inners in check, and more than one of the onlookers remarked, "Cato's playing a good game to-day." The Carslake captain had quite a distinctive style. She never appeared flurried, and, for hockey, was even unhurried. She played with neat adroitness, using both stick and feet with remarkable dexterity, invariably successful in robbing the attacker of the ball just at the right moment and hitting away without pause, as hard and accurate as a machine. The danger came from the wings, for the Carslake half-backs were comparatively weak and too slow to hold the school forwards. Kitty and Bertha found their work cut out for them in that quarter, while, by a tacit understanding, Duane held the centre. But the pace was bound to tell. The end of the first twenty minutes found the lighter side being slowly overwhelmed and pressed back. The forwards made their attacking dashes at longer and still longer intervals, while the halves were back with Kitty and Bertha, resisting desperately. Twice Edith saved, but the school were not to be denied. A furious attack swept the ball over the goal line, then the left wing broke through, and when half-time sounded the school were leading by two goals to nil. The Carslake team walked off the field and into the pavilion, looking tired and dispirited, with the feeling that worse things were in store for them in the second half. Public opinion was the same, for it was obvious that Carslake's were tired out and worn down by the pace, while the school felt as fresh as ever when they thought of the lead they had gained over their opponents. "If it weren't just for a few--Duane, Kitty and Bertha," remarked one of the team, "we'd be all over them, and they wouldn't have a look in. Those three are as hard as nails, I know, but even they won't be able to keep us out much longer. It'll be a walk-over next half." Meanwhile, in the pavilion, the younger members of the Carslake team dropped down wearily upon the nearest seats. "Oh dear," gasped Daisy, "I feel nearly dead-beat." "And I've got the stitch," added France, dismally, for the artist, good though her intentions might be, was not in the form to stand a gruelling match like this. When Duane entered everybody seemed to glance spontaneously towards her, as the central figure in the whole affair. After all, it was she who was responsible for it. She stood looking at them for a moment in silence. Her pale, rather sallow-complexioned face was flushed, her hair for once was ruffled and untidy; her light grey eyes shone vividly in their dark setting. "Hallo!" she greeted them. "What are you all looking so dismal about?"