Gladys had tied up her head in a pale blue chiffon veil, with a fetching bow just over the ear. The other women who were playing on the courts, with the exception of Mrs. Cartwright and the automobile girls, were draped in the same fashion.
“That suggests a game to me,” continued Mrs. Cartwright. “You must come to my veranda some night and we will play it. It is called ‘eyeology.’ I won’t tell you anything more about it now. Just you wait! But to go back to my first question. Then I am to enter Barbara for the tournament?”
“I should say not, Mrs. Cartwright,” said Barbara, who was standing near. This time she would not let Ruth speak.
“Ruth is certainly the best player among us,” drawled Gladys; “she and Mr. Post; but,” she went on in insinuating tones, “you know there are strange things that can happen in tennis!”
“If you mean, Gladys, that I cheated the other day,” broke out Barbara fiercely, “I simply won’t bear it! I know it is horrid of me to make a scene,” she turned to Ruth with her eyes full of tears, “but this is the second time.”
“Please don’t get excited, Miss Thurston,” cried Gladys scornfully. “I have not said you cheated. It looks a little bit like a case of guilty conscience.”
Harry Townsend smiled knowingly.
Bab, nearly in tears, couldn’t answer, but Ralph and Hugh Post both protested indignantly.
“Please don’t discuss a thing of this kind here,” said Mrs. Cartwright, angrily. “We don’t allow quarreling on the Casino courts. I am surprised at you, Barbara. You were accused of nothing.”
Mollie’s eyes were black, instead of their usual lovely blue. She was very indignant, but she was always more of a diplomat than Barbara.