“In the doubles, you mean? Well, there is the championship cup——”
“Our cup,” cut in Tommy. “You know we are each to have it in our hometh.”
“There is a smaller cup, too, I believe. There is also a gold bracelet and a few other consolation prizes, including a pair of rag dolls for the ones at the tail end of the procession. How would you like a nice, homemade rag doll, Grace?”
“I don’t want a rag doll, I want a thilver cup—the thilver cup,” protested Tommy indignantly. “I won’t have a rag doll!”
“Of course not,” agreed Harriet. “What a ridiculous idea! We shall have a silver cup, shan’t we, dear?”
“The thilver cup,” corrected Tommy.
“Yes. And how soon will our court be ready for us, Captain?” asked Harriet, turning to the captain.
“Not until late this afternoon. You will want to get settled and rest and adjust yourselves.”
“No; I shall, for one, want to get to work as soon as I shall have properly digested my luncheon,” replied Harriet, and then, turning to Charlie Mabie, she added, “Charlie, you are actually getting thin.”
“No wonder. I’m doing all the running for both outfits. Up at the camp in the woods it was ‘Charlie, run to town and get so and so.’ Town was only twelve miles away, but Charlie runs just the same. Now it will be, ‘Charlie, run over to town and get a box of candy for the girls.’”