“Forty-thirty,” cried Amanda, with a triumphant grin.
The score in games stood five-four in favor of Amanda. Now she needed only one point to win game and set.
It was Amanda’s serve. Cunningly, she changed her tactics at this critical moment, hoping to catch Billie off guard. Instead of her usual lazy, tricky serve, she sent a smashing ball over the net, carrying it far into the back court.
Billie raced for it, forgetting her injured knee, caught the ball by little less than a miracle of skill, returned it, just missing the top of the net.
Amanda slipped it over neatly and Billie had to run for it again.
On the sidelines Vi wailed:
“She’ll never last it, Laura! Her poor knee! How does she do it?”
“But she does it!” shrieked Laura, her eyes on fire. “Vi, look at that return! She’s got Amanda on the run now! Go it, Billie—go it!”
Billie, knowing that she must save her knee, played close to the net. Never so cool as in an emergency, she juggled the ball, sent Amanda dashing all over the courts like a puppet at the end of a string.
It was such a masterly display as the girls had seldom seen. They were on their feet, shouting, groaning, stamping with their feet.