“Oh, please!” his voice was hurt, reproving. “How can you say such things?”
“I’m sorry, Harold,” she apologized, softening her tone, and putting her arm through his. “You did a lot, and risked all sorts of dangers—but after all, you failed. And a miss is as good as a mile, you know. In fact, I think the whole thing did more harm than good, for Marjorie is more of a heroine than ever!”
“It’s true,” admitted the boy, disconsolately; “and now you turn me aside for this new fellow!”
“What new fellow?” A momentary smile of satisfaction passed over the girl’s face. If only Harold’s words were true!
“Why—what’s his name—Hunter!”
“He isn’t a special friend of mine,” said Ruth. “In fact, I believe he’s quite smitten with Marj!”
“But you’re crazy to play the tennis match with him as your partner!”
“Only because I heard he’s a wonderful player. No, what I want is to win—something! And if I can’t get the canoe meet, I want to stand a chance in the tennis tournament.”
They were entering the club grounds now. Crossing the smooth, treeless lawn of the golf links, they were afforded a splendid view of the moon rising towards the center of the sky. Again Ruth forgot her companion in contemplation of the beauty of the scene. Harold said nothing until they reached the steps of the club house. Then he stopped short.
“Ruth!” he exclaimed, with one of his sudden bursts of inspiration, “I have it! We’ll kidnap Marj again! I’ll take her out in the machine tomorrow morning, and get stalled, so that she misses the meet.”