“Oh, it is good to be alive, even if one had to sit in a puddle of water most of the night,” declared Harriet, as they sat down to breakfast. “Eat sparingly, girls, and chew your food well. That was Mr. Disbrow’s advice. We are to have some dry biscuit to nibble if we feel hungry.”
Margery and Miss Elting had taken an earlier breakfast and hurried over to the Meadow-Brook camp to gather up the necessary articles for the battle. These were packed in a chest which the boys carried to the dressing tent, one of them remaining on guard over the stuff. George did not propose to have their mysterious enemy playing any more tricks.
At nine o’clock they started for the battle ground. The sun had come out broiling hot, the ground was steaming, the air full of humidity, a most depressing condition for those who were to participate in the great tennis match.
“I feel ath though I were going to a funeral,” declared Tommy dismally, as they plodded along over the wet turf.
CHAPTER XXIII
A MEMORABLE BATTLE
As the Meadow-Brook Girls neared the grounds they saw that great throngs were there, while a constant stream of spectators poured across the field. Now that the sun had come out, nearly every one was dressed in white. The stand was still nearly empty, the seats there being sold by numbers, making it unnecessary for the ticket holders to come early in order to get a seat.
George was waiting for the girls at their tent, to which they went directly and, disappearing within, were seen no more until Jane and Hazel were called for their match. Their entrance had attracted no attention, however, as little was known concerning them.
“How are the courts?” was Harriet’s first question.
“Slippery as a skating rink,” answered George.
“It is as fair for one as another,” reflected Harriet, nodding. “I don’t know that I mind it particularly. Not very nice for white shoes, though, is it?”