“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit it so hard,” apologized Harriet. “Better luck next time.”
“She didn’t mean to hit it so hard,” mocked Sam.
Billy recovered the ball after considerable hunting about in the bushes. In the meantime another ball had been pressed into service. This time Harriet succeeded in serving it into the court of her opponent, but Hazel did not see it coming. The ball rolled out of bounds and lay waiting to be picked up.
“Tell me the truth, are you girls playing off?” demanded George.
“No, indeed,” answered Harriet laughingly. “Is there still a lurking idea in your mind that we really do know how to play?”
“There was, up to a few moments ago. I know she doesn’t,” pointing to Hazel. “There couldn’t be any mistake about that. Nobody could make-believe play-off like that.”
“Let me thhow them how to play,” piped Tommy.
“Yes. You and Margery have a try-out,” suggested Miss Elting.
Harriet and Hazel willingly gave way to their two companions. Margery started in by grasping the racquet firmly in both hands. George shook his head sorrowfully.
“What do you think you are playing—baseball?” demanded Sam jeeringly. “We don’t bat in tennis. We hold the racquet artistically in one hand, then, when the ball meanders over into our court, we give it a genteel swat in the northeast corner; next, biff! bump! bang! Back she comes again, just starving to death for more. Do you see?”