e course.

"I'll win without playing baby, or I won't win at all!" the Corner House
girl promised herself. "If she can win after cheating, let her!"

And it looked at the moment as though Trix had the better chance. She
drew ahead and was evidently putting forth all her strength to keep the
lead.

Right ahead was the spot where the broken ice covered the course. Agnes
bore well away from it; Trix swept out, too, and almost collided with
her antagonist.

"Look where you're going! Don't you dare foul me!" screamed the Severn
girl at Agnes.

That flash of rage cost Trix something. Agnes made no reply--not even
when Trix flung back another taunt, believing that the race was already
won.

But it was not. "I will! _I will!_" thought Agnes, and she stooped lower
and shot up the course passing Trix not three yards from the line, and
winning by only an arm's length.

"I beat her! I beat her!" cried Trix, blinded with tears, and almost
falling to the ice. "Don't you dare say I didn't."

"It doesn't take much courage to say that, Beatrice," said Miss Shipman,
right at her elbow. "We all saw the race. It was fairly won by Agnes."

"It wasn't either! She's a cheat!" gasped the enraged girl, without
realizing that she was speaking to her teacher instead of to another
girl.

This was almost too much for Agnes' self-possession. She was in pain and
almost hysterical herself. She darted forward and demanded:

"Where did _I_ cheat, Miss? You can't say _I_ didn't skate around the
spruce clump down there."

"That's right, Aggie," said the high school girl who had been on watch
with Ruth. "I saw Trix cut that clump, and if she'd gotten in first,
she'd have lost on that foul."

"That's a story!" exclaimed Trix; but she turned pale.

"Say no more about it, girls. The race is won by Agnes--and won
honestly," Miss Georgiana said.

But Trix Severn considered she had been very ill-used by Agnes. She
buried _that_ bone and carefully marked the spot where it lay.

CHAPTER XII

THE CHRISTMAS PARTY

"What do you think Sammy Pinkney said in joggerfry class to-day?"
observed Tess, one evening at the supper table.

"'Geography,' dear. Don't try to shorten your words so," begged Ruth.

"I--I forgot," admitted Tess. "'Ge-og-er-fry!' Is that right?"

"Shucks!" exclaimed Agnes. "Let's have the joke. I bet Sammy Pinkney is
always up to something."

"He likes Tess, Sammy does," piped up Dot, "for he gave her Billy
Bumps."