CHAPTER IX A CLOUD WITH A SILVER LINING
As had been the case that morning, Harriet, Jane, Hazel and Tommy werefound at work, the former two at the net, the latter two some littledistance away, tossing balls back and forth with their racquets. TheMeadow-Brook Girls had made up their minds to learn the game, and, stillfurther, to learn to play an expert game. Once having made up their mindsto a certain course of action they would forge ahead, undaunted by anyobstacles that might be placed in their way. Bright eyes and glowingfaces encouraged even the morose Captain Baker. He went so far as tosmile his approval.
"We will get down to business again," he said. "Harriet and Jane willplease take their places, Harriet to serve, Jane to be the striker-out.Play!"
Jane began by losing her racquet, which fell near the serving line inHarriet's court. That was the beginning of the match, drawing suppressedgroans from the boys and laughter from the girls.
Margery watched the practice indifferently. She declined even topractice. Tommy declared that Buster was too fat to play tennis anyway,and that it was fortunate for her companions that she knew it. The gamewas resumed and played out, Jane winning. There had not been a moment ofencouragement in it to the observers on the boys' side. Even Miss Eltinghad frequently shaken her head, evidencing her hopelessness of the girlsever accomplishing anything at the game.
Hazel and Tommy played next. The little lisping girl took a keenerinterest in her tennis practice than they had ever known her to do inanything else.
"Tommy is going to be an expert player one of these days," declaredHarriet. "Which, however, is more than can be said of some of hercompanions. How do you think we are getting along, George?"
"I couldn't say so soon," answered George evasively.
"Now, now, George. You know you told the boys to-day that we werehopeless," returned Harriet laughingly.
George flushed to the roots of his hair.
"Somebody told you," flared Captain George.
"Yes," she answered nodding, her eyes snapping mischievously.
"I know. Sam told you. I'll whale you for that when we get back to camp,Sam," threatened George.
"No, Sam did not tell me. You told me yourself, Captain," chuckledHarriet. "You told me first by coloring when I accused you of it, thenyou admitted it by word of mouth. You see, I know you." Harriet laughedmerrily, George's companions joining in the laugh good-naturedly.
"She's too sharp for you, Captain," shouted Dill.
"Even if I can't play tennis," answered Harriet. "But I'm going to playtennis and I'm going to play it well. One of these days I shall beat you,George, but I shall not forget that it was you who taught me. Don't youthink I shall make a player? Answer me frankly. No evasion, sir."
"Well, I--I--I can't say just----"
"Tell the truth."
"No, I don't. There, I've said it. You made me do it, so don't blame mefor saying so. I don't believe there is the least little bit of use inour going on with this. You might learn to play the game, but you never,never will be expert enough to go into a match game," he declared withemphasis.
"Aren't you an encouraging boy, though?" jeered Jane. "So glad you toldus."
"Am I to understand that you are no longer our instructor, George? If so,we had better get some one else. I am quite certain that Sam would beglad to teach us the game. Wouldn't you, Sam?" asked Harrietmischievously.
"Well, seeing that my nose is out of commission, I guess I'd have to weara mask. If I had a mask and a coat of armor, I might be willing to take achance at teaching you. I guess the Pickle had better do it, though. Wecan take turns at it and as fast as one gets knocked out another can takehis place and go on with the game."
"Oh, you fellows make me weary," cried George, springing up. "I'll teachyou, Harriet. I said I would, and I will. I guess, if you have the pluckto stand up and keep batting away at the balls without losing your nerve,I ought to be willing to do my part, even if the tournament is out of thequestion. We will go on with the practice."
Tommy smiled wisely at Jane, and the latter chuckled under her breath.The practice was resumed, this time with renewed vigor. Some slightimprovement was noted, though the great difficulty seemed to be ingetting the girls to place the ball accurately. They seemed to be unableto hit the ball so that it would fall in any certain designated spot.Their strokes, too, were uneven. The ball was just as likely to fallspinning on the volleyer's side of the net as into the court of heropponent.
The technical name for this is "a fault," and means a score for thefaulter's opponent. There were many such, the faults being about even,however, with little or no advantage for either side. It was discouragingwork, discouraging for George Baker and discouraging for the girls,though they did not show by their expression that they were other thanhappy and contented with their work. George found himself wondering againif they really knew how badly they played. He decided that they could notknow, or, with all their pluck, they would give it up.
"The gloom on our side of the camp is so thick you can cut it with abread-knife," thought Sam after watching the game for the better part ofan hour. "What spectacles they are making of themselves, and--hooray!Good play. What's the matter, Harriet? Did you forget yourself?"
She had made a really brilliant play. To their amazement, others equallyas brilliant followed it. Then all at once there came a slump. HarrietBurrell played worse than ever. It had come to the point where she couldnot even hit a ball, much less deliver it properly.
"If there were a lake handy, I'd jump into it and drown myself," Georgeconfided to Billy.
"Go jump in the spring. A good ducking will do you good. Your face is asred as a lobster. You couldn't be any hotter if you had been playing achampionship game yourself."
"A championship game!" groaned Baker. "Don't mention it!"
"Do you know anything?" demanded Sam, coming up at that juncture.
George shook his head.
"No, I'm a driveling idiot. I always knew something was wrong with me,but until this thing came up I never knew exactly what that somethingwas. Now I do."
"Glad you've got a clear understanding of yourself," answered Sam. "Itwill be the best thing ever for what ails you. But you were mighty slowin getting wise to yourself. Even Tommy could tell you. She could tellyou what you have done in this matter, too."
"Eh? What I have done?"
"Yes."
"Well, what have I done, that you haven't done?" demanded George.
"You've bitten off more than you can chew," answered Sam, with a seriesof cautious nods, being wary of the bandages across his injured nose."That's what you've done."
"I have," agreed George. "So have you, so have all the fellows. We areall in it up to our chins. What have you in the back of your head besideswhat you've just said?"
"That we ought to have a crack player to teach those girls."
"Sam," said Baker gravely, and with great impressiveness, "the championplayer of the world couldn't put any ginger or skill into the playing ofthose young women, all of which isn't saying a word against them, for Iadmire them more than any lot of girls I ever knew, and so do we all.Besides, there isn't any champion on tap, so we must grub along withCaptain George Baker. Hello, there comes Fred Avery."
The latter put down his bundles, wiped the perspiration from hisforehead, then, walking over, tossed the morning paper to George. Baker,hot and perspiring, sat down with his back against a granite boulder andglanced idly through the pages of the newspaper. All at once he sprang tohis feet and, waving the newspaper frantically above his head, began todance about and yell as if he had suddenly gone crazy.
"Catch him! Catch him!" howled Sam. "Somebody catch him! He hashydrophobia!"
"I've got it, I've got it!" yelled George. "I've _got it_! Saved, saved!Whoop! Yeow! Oh, I was never so glad in my life. Yell, you Indians,yell!"