“Come, fellows, we must be getting to our own wigwam,” he said, starting up suddenly.
“You are going to remain here and have supper,” replied Miss Elting. “You were quite willing to be with us last evening when the skies were bright. Now that they are not bright it is all the more reason why you should stay this time. You are all fagged out and, what is worse, discouraged. We shall have a nice supper this evening, then afterward some songs and games if you wish.”
“No more games for me to-day,” interrupted George, “begging your pardon.”
“I did not mean tennis games. I, too, have seen enough of those for one day. I meant other games that will relax you all. Songs are a good thing. Our players will ‘go stale’ with too much work. It is not a good plan, I have heard, to keep too steadily at it when one is preparing for a contest. Am I not right?”
George nodded. Sam smiled broadly.
“Yes, we must take care of our principals,” declared the latter. “They are very delicate and very precious.” This raised the first laugh of that long, trying afternoon. The boys checked their own laughter suddenly, as if they had caught themselves doing something wrong. Harriet started the Meadow-Brook yell, in which the boys joined with a shout. From that moment on the gloom of the day was less marked, conversation more natural and easy.
When the supper was served on a table that the boys had made for them, they all sat down on rustic seats put together by the same skilful hands.
“Now, isn’t this better than for you boys to go back to camp to mope all the evening while we girls are doing the same here?” demanded the guardian.
“Yes; this has the other backed off the court, over the side lines into the bushes,” declared Sam.
“Otherwise, nothing but slang would quite fit the occasion, eh, Mr. Crocker?” chuckled Miss Elting. “I am not rebuking you. I have never had and never expect to have occasion to do that to a Tramp Boy. How long is Mr. Mabie to remain in town?”