Meanwhile a debate was carried on between golf and tennis, and was carried in favor of golf by Cousin Jim. There was unintelligible talk of hazards and bunkers and handicaps for the tournament, of records and of bogey, and then as Johnny turned to her with a casual, "Like the game?" a shadow of misgiving crept into her confidence.
She could not golf. Nor could she play tennis. Nor could she follow the golfers—as Johnny Byrd suggested—for Cousin Jane declared her frock and slippers too delicate. She must get into something more appropriate.
And in Maria Angelina the worried suspicion woke that she had nothing more appropriate.
A few minutes later Cousin Jane confirmed that suspicion as she paused by the trunk the young girl was hastily unpacking.
"I'll send to town for some plain little things for you to play in," she said cheerfully. "You must have some low-heeled white shoes and short white skirts and a batting hat. They won't come to much," she added as if carelessly, going down to her bridge game on the veranda.
But Maria Angelina's small hands clenched tightly at her sides in a panic out of all proportion to the idea.
More expense, she was thinking quiveringly. More investment!
Oh, she must not fail—she dared not fail. She must find some one—the right some one——
She dropped beside her trunk of pretty things in a passion of frightened tears.
But the night swung her back to triumph again.