“What do you think of them?” asked George in a hesitating voice.
“Too early to think, old chap. Better reserve the thinking for another time. There is work to be done now. I wonder if I should break my neck if I were to play a game?”
“Better not try it,” answered the captain.
“Yes, I will. I’ll play against you and—who is your best player?”
“Charlie is.”
“Then take your places. We won’t toss for sides. There isn’t any choice so far as I can see. You will excuse me if I use my stick to assist me. I will permit your side to serve. That will give you the advantage at the beginning. I probably shall make an exhibition of myself. What I want you young ladies to observe is my method of delivery. My position will be nothing to be proud of, playing on one leg, as I shall have to.”
“I fear it will not be prudent for you to try,” said Miss Elting, with a shake of her head.
“I must get myself into shape in order to coach the Meadow-Brook team properly. Now that I have started, I shall go through with it. How could I do otherwise after being made acquainted with the pluck of your young charges! Let it come, old chappie.”
George served the ball. Disbrow hopped on one leg, making a leap half-way across the court, scooping up the ball after its first bound, as the rules require. It slipped past George and Charlie really before they realized that it was on the way.
“Love, fifteen,” sang out the Englishman. “You will have to do better than that, my lads, or it wouldn’t do for you to try to play opposite the young ladies. Love, thirty. Why, what ails you, boys? You aren’t playing tennis, you are merely watching your opponent play.”