“You’ve reached the finals, too, haven’t you? Marvelous! We’ll double against Amanda and Eliza to-morrow.”
“But, Billie, how is your knee?”
“Gracious! I haven’t had time to think of it. Now you mention it,” with an experimental wriggle of the injured member, “it does hurt a little. Nothing to speak of, though. Oh, what a day!”
Next day, the great day of the finals, dawned bright and clear, though with a hint of rain which no one took note of on the western horizon. By ten o’clock the ring about the courts was packed solid with spectators.
Billie, warming up her service with Laura, vainly searched the ring of faces for Edina Tooker.
“Hiding up in the dormitory, eating her heart out, poor kid,” thought Billie, and dubbed her ball into the net.
“Hey, Billie!” Laura shouted. “Stop your daydreaming and send me the ball. I can’t pose for the Statue of Liberty all day. My arm waxeth weary.”
For revenge Billie patted a ball neatly over her head. Laura swung wildly for it and missed, while a ripple of merriment swept the audience.
“All right for you,” called Laura, good-naturedly. “I’ll get even with you yet!”
Soon after that the real business of the day commenced.