“I think, as I did when you asked me that question some time ago, that the Meadow-Brook team will attract considerable attention by their playing in the Coast Tournament. They may even get a place well up in the list, but so far as winning any of the prizes, I do not believe they are far enough advanced for that. Their progress, during the four weeks we have been at work, is nothing less than marvelous. Sometimes I almost believe they will be fit for a championship match. Then I discover that I’ve been carried away by that confounded Meadow-Brook enthusiasm. It’s as catching as the plague, old chap.”
“Well, we’re all obliged to you for what you’ve done, P. E.”
“My boy, it isn’t Earlington Disbrow who has done it; it is the young women themselves. You can’t make tennis players out of unavailable material. About all I have done, besides giving them some technical points, has been to keep them at work. They would have done that just the same had I been on the other side of the ocean. At times they show excellent form; then again they fall off without any reason that I am able to discover. In two or three years from now we’ll hear from the Meadow-Brook Girls, but I should say it would take all that time to make champions of them, in spite of their unshaken determination to win out.”
“How are you going to pair them off when we get to the tournament?” The Englishman had announced his intention of witnessing all the matches at Newtown.
“That I have not fully decided. I may do it in a way that you won’t approve,” smiled Disbrow.
“You are the doctor, we are the patients,” nodded George. “Well, at any rate, it has been worth the price of admission to have you up here with us, and I shall never forget what you’ve done for us, and for me especially.”
“Chop it, old chap! You jolly well know the shoe is on the other foot. Besides, I’ve had some much needed practice on my own account. I am fit as a fiddle now, ready to take on any matches that may be arranged for me. This has been a great vacation for me.” The speaker expanded his chest, inhaling deeply of the air that was heavy with the odor of the pines.
“Were I to remain up here all summer I think I might gain something of the endurance that those young women possess. It’s wonderful, as I have said before.”
Four weeks had elapsed since the arrival of P. Earlington Disbrow. During that time real work had been done in the camp of the Meadow-Brook Girls. They had practised early and late, and when not actually at practice were listening to words of wisdom, born of the experience of a world champion. Now they possessed a theoretical knowledge of the game that was barely second to that of Disbrow himself. They had learned to serve drop curves, over-head curves, to place the tennis ball almost with the accuracy of rifle fire; they had with varying degrees of success become able to accomplish the difficult twist service, so puzzling to the novice, much as would be the well-known curves of the baseball player to one who did not understand them; their foot work had improved, they had been taught to conserve their energies, to leap from the toes in springing to meet a ball—in fact, had been coached in all the little delicate arts of the game that had already made their instructor famous wherever tennis was played.
And now the period of their work in camp had come to an end. Only five days remained before the opening of the tournament at Newtown, where they would either win recognition or suffer humiliating defeat. Harriet still persisted in her belief in herself and her companions. Disbrow did not seek to shake that confidence, being well aware that without it they had better remain out of the contest entirely.