“We are Going to Win,” Declared Harriet.
“Play!” called the referee.
“Are you ready?” asked the Fifth Avenue girl who had won the right to serve the first ball.
“Yes,” replied Harriet.
Harriet being the striker-out, it was her duty first to permit the ball to strike the ground, taking it on its first bound and return it into the opposite court. The service ball had been served with great swiftness, it seemed, whereas, as a matter of fact, it was not coming nearly as fast as Harriet had thought. The ball dropped into her court not far from the net. Harriet saw at once that she had misjudged the serve and that she must make a quick move.
She ran quickly and leaning slightly forward started to scoop the ball up and return it, when suddenly both feet slipped out from under her. Harriet measured her full length on the ground, falling flat on her face, sliding along the slippery court until she plunged head-first into the net.
A shout went up from the spectators. The Tramp Boys groaned. They wished themselves miles away. Miss Elting’s face grew suddenly pale.
“Fifteen-love,” droned the referee. Harriet’s opponent had scored the first point. Harriet got up. She was covered with brown mud from head to feet, a good bit of it on her face. Never had she suffered the humiliation that was hers at that moment. Tommy had not uttered a sound. She was aghast with amazement.
The play went on, but not a point had been scored by Harriet and her partner when the announcement fell from the lips of the referee: