“We’re all agreed on that point,” interjected Charlie Mabie. “There isn’t another team in the State that can hold its own with our entries.”
“I sincerely hope you young gentlemen may not be disappointed. I should like to see your team play and——”
“See them play?” exploded Davy. “I should say you would. If you didn’t, we could never forgive you. Of course you will see them play. The idea of your having any doubts on the subject!”
“But, my dear boys, why should I be so interested, not knowing any of the contestants, not even knowing who your team may be?” expostulated the guardian.
“Not—not—not know?” shouted Dill Dodd. “That’s so, you don’t,” he added in a lower voice. “I had forgotten that you didn’t know them. But you will—you will—and when you do you’ll be just as enthusiastic as we are, maybe more so.”
“That would be impossible,” said Harriet, smiling and nodding.
The boys themselves were becoming excited. They were fairly bursting with impatience to blurt out the whole story. George Baker was not telling it nearly fast enough to suit them. Tommy and Margery shared their impatience. Tommy’s face was working nervously and Margery was making a desperate effort to be calm. They felt sure that there was more to the story, more of interest to themselves than they could even guess.
They were not wrong in their surmise. There was more to tell, as they were speedily to learn.
“Are the prizes worth while?” asked Harriet.
“A silver cup for the winning team. It’s worth more than a hundred dollars, and will have the name of the winning club engraved on it. Then there will be individual prizes. There are second and third prizes, too, but I don’t know what they are. I didn’t ask Herrington, for the reason that I wasn’t interested. I was interested in the first prize. Our team will get it, of course.”
Harriet was regarding him with narrowed eyes now, her forehead wrinkled into lines of perplexity. The way George was looking at her set the girl to wondering.
“Who is your team, George?” she asked.
“Who is my team? Don’t you know?” he almost shouted.
“Naturally not. You haven’t told us.”
“They aren’t mind readers, George,” reminded Billy Burgess. “I’ll confess that you’ve almost got me guessing. You’ve so befuddled me that I’m beginning to wonder if I know who they are myself.”
The boys burst out into a jolly laugh.
“Oh, tell them and be done with it. For goodness’ sake, quit circumnavigating the globe,” scoffed Davy. “I could walk to town and back while you are saying ‘No, thank you.’ Speak up.”
“And you haven’t guessed yet?” questioned George.
“We are more in the dark than when you began,” replied Harriet. “Who is to play on your team?”
“Why, you are, of course. The Meadow-Brook Girls are our team. You are the players who are going to win the tennis championship for the coast, and you’re going to put all the others so far back of the lines that they won’t be able to find themselves for the rest of the summer. Now, what do you think of that?”
“What?” Harriet sat up very straight, looking George Baker squarely in the eyes. “Why, Mr. Baker, none of us has ever played a game of tennis in her life.”
CHAPTER V
THE TRAMP CLUB RECEIVES A SHOCK
“Quit joking. I mean what I say,” commanded Captain Baker somewhat testily. “Of course I know you girls play tennis as well as you do everything else. Knowing this, I hadn’t the least hesitancy in entering you for the tournament. I told Jack Herrington all about you. He insisted on my making the entry right there and then. You see, he had heard of the Meadow-Brook Girls. He knew almost as much about their accomplishments as I did myself. He said that was just the kind of entries they wished for the Atlantic Coast Tennis Tournament. I was mighty glad he said that, for I really wanted you girls to go in and win the cup, so I made the entry in Miss Harriet’s name per George Baker as representative. There are girl teams entered from all along the coast and they are cracker-jacks, too, but they aren’t in the same class with you girls, either in tennis or anything else. Now, isn’t that great?” Captain George’s face was flushed and his eyes were sparkling.
“Great?” answered Harriet slowly. “I told you none of us ever had played a game of tennis in her life, and I meant it. Some of us have knocked the ball about a little with the racquets, but not one of us ever has played a game. Why, we know absolutely nothing about tennis.”
“What? You—you mean to say—you mean you are in earnest—you aren’t joking with me?”
“I was never more serious in my life, George,” replied Harriet gravely.
Captain George Baker looked as he felt—thunderstruck—while his companions’ faces reflected his consternation. George groaned dismally.
“But we’ve entered you. You must go through with it,” he expostulated.
Harriet shook her head.
“It is out of the question, George. Miss Elting plays, I believe. Let her take the entry for us.”
“She isn’t eligible,” objected George. “This entry is for girls not more than eighteen years old. Of course you will play,” he added with a more hopeful note in his tone. “I know well enough that you play, and play superbly. No girls who are such clever girls, out-of-doors as well as in, could help playing tennis. Besides, you will have to do it now. I tell you I’ve entered you.”
“No, George. I am sorry, but you will have to withdraw our entry, explaining to Mr. Herrington that we don’t play and that you were led into the making of the entry by his urging.”
“The papers have printed the entries,” shouted George. “And they’ve told all about you,” he added in a tone of misery.
“Show them what the papers printed, George,” urged Dill.
Captain George drew a wrinkled piece of newspaper from his blouse pocket and flattened it out on one knee with the palms of his hands. He regarded the paper ruefully, then handed it to Dodd.
“You read it, Dill. My voice is going back on me. I must have yelled myself hoarse this morning. It’s all about you, girls. You will see that you’ve got to go through with this business, no matter what happens.”
“Ahem!” exclaimed Dodd. “Are you ready for the question? The question is to play or not to play. This is an item in the ‘Newtown Register’ and, as you will observe, was written with a complete knowledge of all the facts.”
“Read it. Don’t waste so much time talking,” cried Sam.
“The item is as follows,” said Dill. “That is, I shall read only that part relating to you girls and your entry. What it says about the other entries, of course, will be of no interest to you just now. Later on it may. I quote from the ‘Register’: ‘Not the least interesting among the entries for the Atlantic Coast Tennis Tournament is that of the Meadow-Brook Girls of Meadow-Brook, New Hampshire. This is not, strictly speaking, a tennis club. The young women who form this organization have become known to the public by reason of numerous vacation tours which they have made on foot and by automobile throughout the State. Their thorough athletic training, coupled with their proficiency in outdoor sports, will make them formidable contestants. We shall welcome them to the Coast Tournament and hope to have them with us as long as they remain eligible for the classes offered here.’ Then follows the family history of each of you girls,” added Dill mischievously.
“My grathiouth, you don’t thay tho!” exclaimed Tommy. “Won’t my father be ath mad ath a hatter! He thayth young girlth thhould be theen but not heard.”
“Here’s another from the ‘Gazette,’” announced George, passing a second slip to his companion.
“‘Great interest is being manifested in the entry of the well known organization who call themselves the Meadow-Brook Girls,’” read Dill. “‘Their coming is awaited with deep interest by the summer visitors as well as the regular residents of Newtown, who are justly proud of old New Hampshire’s girls.’”
“I fear you have involved yourself and us in a scrape, Captain George,” said Miss Elting. “I know something about tennis, and have played a few games. I know, too, that long practice is necessary even to play an ordinary game of it. But even in my case, I can’t say that I know enough about the game to instruct any one else. You must go to Mr. Herrington and tell him frankly that the entry was made under a misapprehension, and that it must be withdrawn.”
“What, after all thothe complimentth?” demanded Tommy. “Never! I’ll play the whole tournament mythelf firtht.”
“No, George,” insisted the guardian, “it isn’t possible. You must cancel the entry. My girls do not play tennis, and that is all there is about it. I am, of course, ineligible, much as I should like to keep up the reputation of the Meadow-Brook Girls. We are very sorry to disappoint you.”
“George will have to go to Newtown and tell Herrington all about it,” declared Dill. “We have made fools of ourselves, but through no fault of the girls. We should have found out whether or not they played the game before entering them in the tournament.”
“I didn’t think for a minute that it could be possible they didn’t play. I didn’t suppose there was anything they couldn’t do, and I’m half inclined to believe they are fooling us now,” declared George. “I——”
His voice trailed off into an unintelligible mumble as he observed the troubled eyes of Harriet Burrell fixed upon him. “Oh, shoot the whole business!” he exploded.
Billy Burgess had in the meantime beckoned to Sam. The two boys slunk out of camp and a few moments later were observed staggering back, bearing some heavy burden between them. The girls could not imagine what the boys were bringing into camp. George knew, however. He started up, his face flushing angrily.
“Take it away!” he yelled. “We don’t want it. What are you fellows trying to do, make a bigger fool of me than I am already?” he demanded.
“That would be impossible,” laughed Sam.
“For mercy’s sake, what have you there?” cried Miss Elting.
“The makings,” answered Dill. “And it was an unlucky day for us, when we bought them, wasn’t it, Captain George Baker?”
“You’d better drag that thing out of here,” roared George, now thoroughly angry. “Am I the captain of this club or not?”
“Don’t take it away, boys. We want to know what it is. Is this bundle a mystery, another of your great surprises?” demanded Jane McCarthy.
“This is the treat that was to be,” Dill informed them. “Of course, it isn’t a treat now, it’s just a sad reminder of what might have been, but we thought you might like to have a look. You’ll see what you have missed and we shall shed tears, George shedding crocodile tears. If you wish to know how a crocodile weeps, just observe the eyes of our noble captain. George, prepare to weep.”
“Oh, keep quiet!” growled George Baker. “I’ll trounce you if you keep on. Are you going to take that thing away?”
“Not until our very good friends, the Meadow-Brook Girls, have had an opportunity to see it and learn what a chance to distinguish themselves they have missed.”
“You have aroused our curiosity,” said the guardian laughingly. “You simply must let us into this new secret. Such boys! I never saw your like! I’ll confess that I am as curious as any of my girls. What have you there?”
“The makings, I said,” answered Dill Dodd—“the making of world champions and championesses.”
“I don’t understand,” answered Miss Elting, glancing from one to another of the boys. The latter were now smiling broadly, all save Captain Baker himself, whose face was gloomy, his gaze fixed morosely on the ground.
Sam Crocker drew a knife from his pocket, opened it and felt the edge of the blade with aggravating deliberateness, then suddenly cut the heavy twine that held the bundle together.
The bundle sprang open. The two lads grabbed the contents and quickly spread them out over the ground in front of the girls’ tent. The Meadow-Brooks were silent for a few seconds; then broke out into exclamations of delight.
“Just look!” cried Margery shrilly.
“Oh, you boys, you boys!” exclaimed the guardian, her eyes glowing with an excitement and pleasure that she made no effort to conceal. “How really unkind we have been to you.”
CHAPTER VI
A DISCOURAGING TRY-OUT
“And you have done all this for us?” asked Miss Elting, stepping over and placing a hand on the shoulder of the disconsolate George, who, sitting with his chin in his palms, never so much as glanced up at her.
“No; just for the sake of showing you what fools fellows can make of themselves,” he answered sourly.
“Oh, don’t say that, Captain,” begged Harriet, running to him. “We shall never forget your goodness—never! It was splendid in you!”
“A real tennis net!” cried Margery. “What a lot of fun we shall have with it.”
“It is a splendid outfit, too,” declared Miss Elting, examining the contents of the bundle with critical eyes; “everything complete, even to racquets, and the best to be had in the market, too. Oh, how can we thank you? But isn’t this outfit new?” she asked, a sudden thought occurring to her.
Sam nodded and smiled.
“To whom does it belong?” she continued.
He waved his hand as indicating that it was the property of the Tramp Club. In the meantime George’s face was taking on a deeper flush, the heel of one boot was digging more and more savagely into the turf, and his hair, through which he had run his fingers, was standing up wildly.
“The property of the Tramp Club?” repeated the guardian.
Sam nodded, but George did not.
“When did you get it?” questioned Miss Elting.
“It came the day before yesterday,” Dill informed her. “We’ve been looking for it for more than a week—we could hardly wait till it got here. When it came, we hustled right over to Meadow-Brook, where we learned that you were out here.”
“But—but you didn’t carry it all the way from Meadow-Brook here, did you?” demanded Jane.
“No, we didn’t tote it,” answered Sam. “We got a farmer who was on his way out here to carry it in his wagon. We carried it up from the road, about a mile. That was far enough. We are very sorry we had all our trouble for nothing.”
“We’re not sorry!” roared George. “We aren’t sorry for anything we do for the Meadow-Brook Girls. The fellow who says that isn’t a Tramp by a long shot.”
“I—I didn’t mean it just that way,” apologized Sam. “You know what I meant.”
Harriet, who had been watching the faces of the boys and listening to what was said, had already come to a certain conclusion regarding the thoughtfulness of the boys. She put that conclusion into words a few moments later.
“You mean that you boys bought this outfit, net, balls, racquets and all? Is that it?”
“We certainly did,” cried Sam.
“Will you keep quiet?” demanded George angrily. “You ramble on and tell everything you know almost before you are asked. We got that outfit, ladies, because we wanted it and for no other reason. We thought, seeing you were going to play in the tournament at Newtown, that you might like to practise while you were out here. That’s all there is to it. Don’t pay any attention to what Sam says; he isn’t always responsible.”
Harriet was not deceived. Neither was Miss Elting. It was plain to both that George Baker and his fellows had purchased this tennis outfit solely in the interest of the Meadow-Brook Girls. The guardian, knowing something of these matters, realized that the boys must have purchased the outfit at a great personal sacrifice, thus increasing her wonder and admiration for the unselfish Tramp Club. As a matter of fact, the boys had sacrificed their pocket money in order to get the outfit, fully expecting the girls to be overcome with joy. Instead of this the girls had met them with the amazing news that they had never played a game of tennis in their lives!
“You bought it for us,” reflected Harriet, with her chin in her hand, regarding the disconsolate George with thoughtful eyes.
“Suppose we purchase the outfit?” suggested Miss Elting.
Captain George sprang up, his face reflecting his indignation.
“Do you think we are that kind of fellows?” he demanded. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean to speak to you in that tone, Miss Elting,” he apologized.
“You need not apologize. We accept your kind thoughtfulness and appreciate the spirit behind it. But it is too bad that you have had to be so disappointed. Let me think it over and see what can be done.”
“Nothing can be done,” groaned George. “We’re in up to our chins and we’re going in up to our eyes before we’ve done with it.”
Tommy and Margery had taken up racquets and balls and were batting the balls about, shouting delightedly. They already had volleyed one ball off into the bushes and lost it. Billy Burgess was down on his knees crawling about in the bushes in search of it. Already a hopeful spirit was apparent in the faces of nearly all the boys and most of the girls. Harriet was thoughtful, while Miss Elting smiled her appreciation upon the boys, of whom she was almost as fond as of her own young charges.
“I would suggest that we put up the net. Even if we aren’t able to play, we shall be able to have a lot of enjoyment out of the tennis outfit,” said Harriet. “Do you object to our using it while we are here, boys?”
“Object?” George Baker was on his feet instantly, the set lines of his face relaxing somewhat. “Well, I should say not! Do you really mean that you’ll play over the net?”
“I don’t know about playing,” answered Harriet laughingly. “We will agree to volley the balls back and forth.”
“You’re fooling me!” shouted George. “You said ‘volley.’ No one but a tennis player would know about that word. Hurrah! Put up the net, fellows. We’ll see about this.”
“Please do not deceive yourself,” begged Harriet. “We have told you the simple truth. We do not play. I knew the word and what it means, having heard Miss Elting use it. But we will put up the net just the same and have ever and ever so much fun. I’ll tell you what, George. You teach us how to play. Miss Elting will play with you. She can play.”
“Indifferently,” answered the guardian. “I fear I should cut but a sorry figure with such experts as the Tramp Club, especially such an expert as Mr. Baker.”
“Expert! Ho-ho! Ha-ha!” chuckled Sam. “Wait till you see him play! Oh, yes, he’s the original and unconquerable champion of the Granite State. Get busy, fellows. Don’t stand about like a lot of wooden Indians waiting to be placed on your pedestals. There aren’t any pedestals here. If there were, you wouldn’t occupy them, not while there are ladies present.”
“Where shall we place the net?” asked Hazel.
“Over yonder,” answered George. “You must level off the ground first, boys.” He was full of new interest now. “Wait. I’ll trim down the bushes, then some of you get to work and dig them up—dig up the roots, I mean. It’s not exactly an ideal place for a court.”
The boys fell to with a will, the girls getting to work assisting them in clearing the ground in preparation for a tennis court. Nearly an hour was occupied with this work, with the result that a fairly level and smooth court had been constructed, George having paced off the measurements so that they were almost accurate. It would not do for the girls to learn on a court that was either too large or too small, for this would have an effect on their playing when they came to play on a real court.
While the others were setting the net, George with a stick was busily engaged in marking out the base line and other lines of the court. All this was of interest to the Meadow-Brook Girls because they did not understand the purpose of it. They had no idea what the lines were for nor why they should be there at all. But Harriet early began asking questions, and by the time the markings were down she had some inkling as to their uses.
“Chalk is used to mark the lines ordinarily,” explained George. “Having no chalk, we fall back on a sharp stick. The lines aren’t very plain, but plain enough, I guess, for all we shall require of them. I reckon we’ll have time to volley a few times before night,” he added, consulting the skies. “I know you girls are going to give us the surprise of our young lives.”
“We are,” agreed Harriet, balancing a racquet on the first finger of her right hand.
“Where’d you learn to do that?” demanded the captain sharply.
“Why, I—I didn’t know I was doing anything so remarkable,” stammered Harriet.
“That’s a trick of expert tennis players to learn whether a racquet is properly balanced. You needn’t tell me you don’t know anything about the game. Sam, bring a ball here. You fellows are going to get a surprise in about a minute and a half. Harriet, you and Hazel take your places. No, not in the middle of the court—diagonally in those squares. There. Now play!”
Harriet tossed up the ball and made a swing at it with the racquet. She did not even hit the ball. Her companions laughed merrily at her awkwardness.
“Try again. That was no stroke,” said George.
Harriet tried again, sending the ball toward Hazel. Hazel struck at it with so much force that she spun her body completely about, but she did not hit it.
“Where is it?” cried Hazel.
“Gone where the poison ivy twineth,” announced Sam solemnly. “I reckon that ball is going yet. Woof! What a stroke!”
“Don’t you know that after a service in the beginning of the game the ball must first touch the ground and be taken on the first rebound?” asked Dill.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit it so hard,” apologized Harriet. “Better luck next time.”
“She didn’t mean to hit it so hard,” mocked Sam.
Billy recovered the ball after considerable hunting about in the bushes. In the meantime another ball had been pressed into service. This time Harriet succeeded in serving it into the court of her opponent, but Hazel did not see it coming. The ball rolled out of bounds and lay waiting to be picked up.
“Tell me the truth, are you girls playing off?” demanded George.
“No, indeed,” answered Harriet laughingly. “Is there still a lurking idea in your mind that we really do know how to play?”
“There was, up to a few moments ago. I know she doesn’t,” pointing to Hazel. “There couldn’t be any mistake about that. Nobody could make-believe play-off like that.”
“Let me thhow them how to play,” piped Tommy.
“Yes. You and Margery have a try-out,” suggested Miss Elting.
Harriet and Hazel willingly gave way to their two companions. Margery started in by grasping the racquet firmly in both hands. George shook his head sorrowfully.
“What do you think you are playing—baseball?” demanded Sam jeeringly. “We don’t bat in tennis. We hold the racquet artistically in one hand, then, when the ball meanders over into our court, we give it a genteel swat in the northeast corner; next, biff! bump! bang! Back she comes again, just starving to death for more. Do you see?”
Miss Elting laughed merrily.
“Your description is graphic, indeed,” she said. “I think Margery will have no difficulty in returning her opponent’s service after that.”
“Buthter ith too fat to play anything but football,” averred Tommy. “Thhe would be a thuctheth in football becauthe thhe could fall on the ball and hold it down tho nobody elthe could get it. Do I hit the ball firtht?”
“Does she hit it first?” groaned Bill. “You ‘serve’ it. That’s the polite way to express what Sam would call the opening swat.”
“Then what do I do?” questioned Margery.
Miss Elting here took a hand in the instruction.
“When your opponent serves the ball into your court, you let the ball strike the ground, bound up into the air, then you volley it back into your opponent’s court. Then, the ball being in play, you do not have to let it strike the ground again unless you wish to do so.”
“But how can I help its striking the ground if it wants to?” cried Buster.
George groaned dismally at this question.
“By hitting it!” he shouted. “Keep the ball going as long as there is any ‘go’ left in it. Play!”
“Look out!” shouted Tommy, and without waiting for her opponent to prepare herself, she served the ball with a fairly well directed stroke, so accurate, in fact, that the ball sped true to its mark, hitting Buster squarely on the nose. The hurt of it was not so great as was the surprise. Margery staggered and fell over on her back, to the accompaniment of shouts of laughter from both boys and girls.
“I gueth I can play,” declared Tommy proudly, “but Buthter ith too fat.”
“You did it on purpose,” cried Margery, getting to her feet and touching her nose gingerly with the tips of her fingers. “Is it bleeding?”
“No, it isn’t bleeding,” assured George sympathetically.
“If it isn’t bleeding it’s broken. Oh, my poor nose!”
Tommy was regarding her quizzically, her shrewd little face wrinkled into sharp lines. Tommy was very proud of her accomplishment, for did it not prove that she was very skilful and Margery not?
“I think myself that Margery is not a success at tennis,” answered Miss Elting. “I believe you had better give it up and let Harriet and Jane have an opportunity. Jane hasn’t held a racquet yet.”
“No! I’ll play if it kills me,” declared Margery.
“That’s the talk!” cried Sam. “That’s the spirit that wins games and everything else! But,” he continued, addressing Tommy Thompson, “don’t you be so violent this time, Grace. Take it more slowly to begin with. Just drop it over into the other court; send it over so slowly that Margery cannot fail to see it. Easy as falling off a log.”
“Play!” commanded George.
This time Tommy made three passes before she succeeded in hitting the ball. She gave a gentle lift on the third stroke, serving it over the net, barely missing the net itself. Margery, following Sam Crocker’s advice, ran toward the ball making wild swings with her racquet. Luckily, ball and racquet met. Margery gave the ball a toss, but it was more the force of her forward lunge than the stroke that sent the ball over the net. The girl herself kept right on going. From sheer force of her momentum she could not stop.
In the meantime Tommy had darted forward to meet the ball and volley it back into the opposite court. Just before reaching the net she stubbed her toe on a root that had been overlooked, sprawled head first into the net, and became hopelessly entangled in its meshes.
“Thave me!” moaned Tommy.
Buster, who was still lunging forward, tripped also and plunged forward head first, her own head bumping Tommy’s with great force.
CHAPTER VII
THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS CHANGE THEIR MINDS
For a full minute the two camps were so convulsed with laughter that they were unable to go to the rescue of the two unfortunate tennis players, now so thoroughly wound up in the net as to be quite helpless. The more they tried to extricate themselves the more entangled did they become.
Then something else was discovered. Sam Crocker was seen groveling on the ground, both bands clapped tightly against his face.
“What’s the matter with you?” demanded Dill Dodd after the two unfortunates, bruised and sore, had been assisted out of the net.
“If you had eyes you could see without asking so many questions. She let the racquet go when she struck at the ball and it got me. The end of the handle hit me on the nose. It’s harder than iron, too. It’s broken, as sure as you’re alive. Oh, why did I ever permit myself to get into this scrape?”
“That is too bad,” replied Dill sympathetically. “Here we go and buy the best racquets to be had, then you have to break one the first thing.”
“What!” yelled Sam. “It wasn’t the racquet that was broken, it was my nose!”
Tommy and Margery, after having escaped from the net, had sat down heavily. Sam still sat where Tommy’s racquet had laid him low, nursing his injured nose and rocking his body to and fro.
The campers screamed with laughter. He presented such a ludicrous figure that they could not help laughing. Even Miss Elting could not hide her amusement.
“That’s right. Laugh if you want to. I’d laugh myself if I weren’t afraid of ruining my nose forever. They deserve to be laughed at,” he declared angrily.
“We aren’t laughing at Tommy and Margery, we are laughing at you,” cried Crazy Jane.
Harriet, in the meantime, had brought a basin of water and, kneeling down, was washing the blood from Sam’s damaged nasal organ. As she wiped away the blood she observed that his nose was leaning slightly to one side. Dill, who had been an interested spectator, had observed the same thing.
“Out of plumb, isn’t it?” he questioned quizzically.
“It’s broken. Didn’t I tell you it was?” groaned Sam. “I may not know everything, but I know my own nose and I know when it’s broken.”
The guardian stepped over to where Sam and Harriet were sitting. She examined Sam’s nose carefully.
“If you twitht it a little you can tell whether it ith broken or not,” suggested Tommy.
Sam yelled in anguish at the thought.
“Don’t you dare try it!”
“Never mind Tommy. She is just a little savage,” chuckled Harriet. “Neither Miss Elting nor I would give you the slightest unnecessary pain.”
“That sounds very well, Harriet. I fear, however, that I shall have to give Sam quite a little pain,” said the guardian.
“What are you going to do?” cried Sam.
“First straighten your nose, then bolster it so it will stay straight.”
“Shall I get the tent pole?” asked Dill eagerly.
“Don’t wear out my patience, fellows,” warned Sam. “I’m a wounded man, I’m a desperate man and I’m not wholly responsible for what I say or do. Are—are you going to twist it, Miss Elting?”
“I shouldn’t call it that. I am going to shape it, to mould it, restore it to its natural shape as nearly as I can, then secure it there with adhesive plaster.”
“Yeth, that ith the way,” agreed Tommy, nodding eagerly. “Let me help you, Mith Elting.”
“You will please keep away from me. Haven’t you done enough damage as it is?” demanded Sam.
“That ith what I get for trying to be helpful,” answered Tommy in an aggrieved tone. “Any one would think I had broken your nothe on purpothe. I didn’t break it at all; the racquet broke it.”
“Never mind him. He doesn’t know what he is talking about,” soothed George. “Shall I hold his hands while you are making temporary repairs, Miss Elting?”
“If you boys will go way back somewhere and sit down, we’ll have the job done in a few minutes,” suggested Jane.
“Yes, please do not interfere,” urged the guardian. “Now, don’t jerk, Sam. I am going to straighten your nose.”
Sam winced as she pressed his nose back to its normal position, and his hands gripped a handful of dirt from the tennis court, but he uttered no sound. While the guardian held the nose in place she instructed Harriet Burrell how to place the adhesive plaster, which Harriet did with delicate, skilful fingers.
“Does it hurt much?” asked the girl sympathetically.
“Hurt? Oh, no. It is the pleasantest sensation I ever enjoyed. That’s what I’m trying to make myself believe,” he added, speaking thickly, so as not to strain the muscles of his face. “But how am I going to breathe?”
“You have your mouth left,” laughed Harriet.
“There,” announced the guardian finally, “I don’t believe a surgeon could have done better. How do you think he looks, boys?”
The boys gathered about Sam, hands thrust into their trousers pockets, and regarded him solemnly.
“I gueth,” smiled Tommy, “if you would thtand him up in a cornfield he would thcare all the crowth away. He lookth jutht like a thcare crow, doethn’t he?”
“Just what I was going to suggest,” added Dill. “He’d scare the crows all right and the owner of the corn patch, too.”
“Is that all?” asked Sam, dolefully.
“I think so.” The guardian smiled down into the boyish face.
“I wish I could see how I look.”
Tommy ran into the tent, returning quickly with a hand mirror, which she handed to the boy she had unwittingly wounded.
“Look out that your face doesn’t break it,” warned Dill.
“If my face doesn’t, your head may,” retorted Sam sharply.
“Well, what do you think of it?” asked Dill Dodd with a grin.
“Think? Why, I think I should rather have my face than yours right this minute.”
This thrust restored Sam to good humor once more. His companions and the girls joined in the laugh at Dodd’s expense. The boys had replaced the net, but the hour was too late to think of having further practice. Harriet said they must begin to prepare their supper. The boys decided that it was time they were getting back to camp and starting their own evening meal. They declined an invitation to remain and take supper with the Meadow-Brook party. Harriet begged them to sit down a little while until the fire was fairly started. Instead, they placed the wood and started the fire for her, after which Hazel, whose turn it was to get supper that night, promptly set about her task.
Captain Baker relapsed into his gloomy state again. The recollection of the miserable failure of all his carefully laid plans rankled in his mind. He knew now that the girls were not deceiving him when they said they knew nothing about tennis playing. He had never seen a more pitiful exhibition than that of the afternoon; he hoped never to see another like it.
“Well, I’ll have to tell Herrington, I suppose,” he said, after remaining silent for several minutes. “But I’ll tell you truly, I’d rather be kicked all the way down to Newtown and back than to do it.”
“If you prefer I will write to Mr. Herrington myself and explain why it is impossible for the girls to enter the tournament,” suggested Miss Elting demurely.
“Never!” exclaimed George with strong emphasis. “I’m not quite such a namby-pamby as to hide behind a woman’s skirts. I’ll face the music, I’ll swallow my medicine and make a maple syrup face while I’m swallowing the bitter stuff. I’m going right down to-morrow and have the disagreeable job over.”
His companions had also relapsed into their former attitude of dejection. The full weight of their disappointment came back with overwhelming force.
“I wish I could talk without danger of cracking my face. I’d like to make a few remarks just at this time,” said Sam, talking as if he had a hot potato in his mouth.
“Try the sign language,” suggested Dill teasingly.
“All right, I will,” mumbled Sam Crocker, snatching up a pail of water and hurling it at Dill, who succeeded in eluding all except a few drops that rained over his head and down his neck.
“That’s a sign of my displeasure. Want any further signs? There are plenty of them left over yonder in the spring, if the ladies will kindly lend us the water pail.”
“No, no more signs,” replied Dill, backing away, laughing. “I would much prefer that you remain quiet. Be as silent as a clam, if you like. I’ll not criticise you.”
“I thought you wouldn’t like the sign language after you’d felt it,” snarled Sam.
“When did you say the tournament is to be held?” questioned Harriet mysteriously.
“Five weeks from to-day,” answered George Baker. “Why?” He was eyeing her almost suspiciously.
“We have been wanting something to do, something to occupy our time and keep us out of mischief, ever since we came up here to camp. I have been thinking it over, thinking of your thoughtfulness and kindness, and for your sakes, boys, I for one propose that we girls set to work and learn the game. We surely ought to be able to accomplish something in five weeks. Don’t you believe we can?”
“You—you—you mean that you will play in the tournament?”
Harriet nodded.
“Yeow!” howled Captain George Baker, at which his companions came running toward him. “They’re going to play, they’re going to play!” he shouted. “Hi-diddie-um-dum, hi-diddie-um-dum!” he sang, dancing about as though he had taken sudden leave of his senses.
“What do you say, girls?” questioned Harriet, glancing about at her companions.
“We say whatever you do. You are the captain of the Meadow-Brook Girls just as Captain Baker is captain of the Tramp Club,” answered Jane.
“Then we will play.” Harriet nodded with an emphasis that left no doubt as to her earnestness. “You shall teach us to play and we will do the rest.”
“Of course we expect to be beaten badly,” sighed Hazel. “But we shall make good your entry for us, so that you boys will not be open to any accusation except that of bad tennis judgment and too great faith in the powers of the Meadow-Brook Girls,” she added with a bright little laugh.
Harriet Burrell sprang to her feet, eyes snapping.
“Wrong!” she flashed.
“What?” groaned George.
“Oh, we’ll enter the tournament, but not to lose. We’ll enter to win, boys!”
“We’ll Enter to Win, Boys!”
A few seconds of impressive silence followed Harriet Burrell’s bold declaration, then such a shout rose from the throats of the boys of the Tramp Club as perhaps never had been heard in those woods before.
CHAPTER VIII
ON THE SERVICE LINE
Clasping hands, the Tramp Boys formed a ring about Harriet, Sam among the number, and danced and sang as they swung about her, to all of which she protested laughingly.
“Save your congratulations until after we have practised for a few weeks. We shall be better able to judge then what the prospects are.”
“But you said you were going to win,” cried Dill, excitedly. “You know you did.”