On the very next play Frank succeeded in winning another point by placing the ball skillfully, which made the score stand thirty-fifteen, in his favor.
Hodge brightened up.
“Oh, Merry has been fooling all along,” he declared. “You’ll see how easy he will pull off the set, Miss Darling. He hasn’t cared to hurt Miss Creighton’s feelings by showing her up.”
“Indeed!” scornfully returned the saucy little witch with the freckled face. “Don’t count your chickens so soon. Mr. Merriwell won’t melt things.”
Mabel Creighton looked doubly determined as she again prepared to serve. Her eyes measured the distance to the net carefully, and though she made a fault by placing her first ball against the top of the net, she sent the next over with a speedy drive.
In a moment Merry was on it, and he made a handsome return, which, however, did not deceive the girl in the least. Mabel volleyed, and Frank was forced to resort to the same play. For some moments the game was highly exciting, and the spectators gasped for breath. Then the girl smashed one down within three inches of the outside line, and Frank’s return was outside, so the score was evened.
“Oh, I knew it!” chattered Fanny Darling. “I’ll bet a pound of Huyler’s that Mr. Frank Merriwell does not make another count.”
“Done!” cried Hodge.
“Oh, say, isn’t this easy, girls?” laughed Fanny. “It’s a perfect snap!”
“For us,” smiled Bessie Blossom. “We’ll have some of that candy who ever wins.”