"You'll just have to practise like billy-ho!" said Betty Brierley, who was addicted to slang.
Nobody dared to indulge in any very particular hopes. It was one thing to gain a Form trophy, but quite another to win the shield of the league.
"I hear Miss Crawford's girls are in good form this year," said Rachel Hunter, who had a cousin at a school at the other side of Stedburgh. "Nell says they're pretty confident."
"They won't beat those twins from Appleton House. Their serves were ripping," returned Betty. "I forget their names, but I sometimes see them on the Parade."
"Unless they've gone off in their play."
"Yes, of course—people occasionally do. One can never tell from year to year. Do you remember Freda Harmon? She swept everything before her, and then she grew too fat and was a dismal failure."
"Would you like me to bant in case of accidents?" laughed Gwen. "You'd better weigh me daily, like they do jockeys."
"There's a great deal in luck," said Charlotte Perry. "If you draw the crack school you may be done for straight away."
Gwen practised her utmost during the brief week before the tournament, and congratulated herself that her play improved. She had her choice of rackets, for everyone was not only willing but anxious to lend her the best obtainable. She tried a selection, until she found the one that suited her best. It was the property of Natalie Preston, who gladly relinquished it in her favour.
"If it wins the tournament I shall be proud!" declared Natalie.