“Where is he? What’s the matter?” shouted Billy.
George waved the boys aside, and stumbling into camp leaned heavily against a sapling. The Tramp Boys and the Meadow-Brook Girls gathered about him, gazing at Captain George with eyes heavy with anxiety.
“It’s all over,” groaned George. “It’s ended, like the Englishman’s sparrow, gone up the blooming spout. Don’t ever speak to me of it again; don’t ever mention tennis nor tournament nor Disbrow nor anything else.”
“Perhaps if you were to tell us what it is all about we might offer some suggestions,” said Miss Elting.
“Too late, Miss Elting. I tell you it’s finished. Read that!”
He thrust a yellow sheet toward her, the girls recognizing it to be a telegraphic message. The guardian read it hurriedly, then she, too, sat down heavily.
CHAPTER XI
A BLOW THAT NEARLY KILLED GEORGE
“I don’t blame you for feeling disturbed, George,” comforted the guardian, “but there is still a ray of hope left here.”
“Begging your pardon, there isn’t even a glimmer,” returned George. “I might have known something would be sure to happen.”
“May I see it?” asked Harriet. Miss Elting handed the message to her.