But her chief worry was for her mother and father. Both were dreadfully downcast and there were times when Jo felt that she should not leave them at all.
"If by staying at home I could do any good!" was the way she argued it to herself. "If I could do any good I wouldn't stir a step! But I would only be moping about all the time, making things ten times worse, probably. Anyway, I know Dad is glad I am to have Laurel Hall after all, though he hates to think of any one else paying my way there. Poor Dad! If there were only something I could do to help!"
When, the evening before they were to start, Jo and Sadie ran over to Nan's home for a few minutes happy talk on the prospects of the morrow, they found Nan just packing a new sport sweater and her tennis racket.
"I've got a new one," Sadie said, pointing to the racket. "Dad brought one home to-night—a perfect peach! He said he would buy me a new one every season if it would improve my game."
"Evidently he doesn't think much of your game!" laughed Nan.
Sadie made a face at her.
"Neither do you, you horrid girl," she accused. "Stop laughing, or I'll throw something at you."
"As the thing nearest at hand is the brass umbrella holder, I'd advise you to do as she says!" chuckled Jo.
The joke was well understood among the chums, who were all three ardent lovers of the game of tennis. But whereas Jo and Nan had profited by steady and conscientious practice and were by way of becoming exceptionally good players, especially Nan, Sadie seemed to lack something—speed or muscle or quick judgment—that goes to the making of a good tennis player.
But Sadie continued to practice doggedly and still lived in hope that some day she would be able to beat Jo—or even Nan! But that day, even in Sadie's rueful judgment, was a long way off.