“And he may come here to coach us?” wondered Harriet. “Wouldn’t that be perfectly splendid?”
“You don’t know whether he will or not,” answered Dill. “P. E. may pay no attention to George’s telegram, then you will be up against it just as hard as before.”
“He may not get the message, of course,” agreed George. “But if it does reach him, you mark what I say, we are sure to hear from him. P. E. is a real man. Certain persons who were opposed to him in matches didn’t know this fact till they faced him across the nets; then they found out in short order. Oh, he is the right sort and you’ll like him after you get to know him as well as I do. Curious none of you folks over heard of him.”
“I have,” answered the guardian.
“And so have I,” added Harriet. “I have read of his matches, both on this and the other side of the Atlantic. What a glorious thing to think that he may be here to instruct us! He could show us how to win a match. By the way, Captain Baker, how many will there be in our class at the tournament?”
“They are all in your class—that is, eligible for the same events. Of course, you girls will play in doubles. For instance, you and Jane will play together on a side with two other girls opposed to you, while Hazel and Grace are playing together on another court against another pair of girls. If either of you win a certain number of sets, whatever may be agreed upon by the committee, then the winners play each other. Doesn’t sound so very formidable, does it?” he smiled.
“Enough so,” answered Harriet Burrell thoughtfully.
“We might as well go on with our practice. Can’t afford to waste any time, you know,” reminded George. They took up their work with new courage, and all during that afternoon the girls worked steadily and to better purpose than at any time before.
They had just stopped playing for the day when Charlie Mabie came trotting into camp. He was waving a yellow sheet over his head. He had been fortunate enough to get a ride in an automobile both going and coming and so had returned early.
“He’s got it!” yelled George. The captain sprang forward and snatched the telegram from the hands of his messenger. “Whoop! I told you so. Listen to this, ladies of the Meadow-Brook organization and gentlemen of the Tramp Club, listen to what the champion of England says in reply to George Baker’s telegram: ‘Coming, you bet! Meet me seven-thirty to-morrow morning. (Signed) Earlington Disbrow.’”