"In his room—at work, I suppose. He put off my sitting."
"Never mind Father Stafford," said Claudia decisively. "Who is going to play tennis? I shall play with Sir Roderick."
"I'd much rather sit still in the shade," pleaded Sir Roderick.
"You're a very rude old gentleman! But you must play, all the same—against Bob and Mr. Morewood."
"Where do I come in?" asked Eugene. "Mayn't I do anything, Lady Claudia?"
The others were looking after the net and the racquets, and Claudia was left with him for a moment.
"Yes," she said; "you may go and sit on Kate's trunks till they lock."
"Wait a little while; I will be revenged on you. I want, though, to ask you a question."
"Oh! Is it a question that no one else—say Kate, for instance—could help you with?"
"It's not about myself."