To Winona the thrill of struggle when a game seemed on the eve of being lost was one of the wildest excitements in life, and the joy when she struck the ball home straight and true the utmost triumph obtainable.

During this autumn term she lived for hockey.
The crowd of school girls, in thick boots and blue tunics, struggling and shouting in a somewhat muddy field might not be an altogether picturesque sight, but to the Captain it was Marathon and Waterloo combined.

No colonel prided himself on a crack regiment more than Winona on her team.

Sometimes, of course, a practice was off color; the day might be bleak or drizzly, or players might be penalized for "sticks," or grumblers might express their dissatisfaction audibly, but whatever went wrong, Winona emerged cheerful from the fray, remonstrated with "off-sides" and "sticks," and reminded growlers that it is unsporting to murmur.

By Kirsty's advice she had sent out challenges to several good clubs in the neighborhood.
"While we were still in our callow infancy I should not have ventured," wrote Kirsty from Cornwall.