“No, they were all right about it,” replied Laurie musingly. Then he lapsed into silence, staring thoughtfully at Thomas as he paced to and fro behind the stone roller.
“What do you think of it?” asked Bob, nodding at the court.
“Corking. Pretty nearly done, isn’t it?”
“Pretty nearly. It’ll take about two days to put the gravel on. They’re going to bring the first load this afternoon. It has to have clay mixed with it, you know, and that makes it slower. And then it’s got to be rolled well—”
“Seems to me,” said Laurie, “a turf court would have been easier.”
“Yes, but they don’t last. You know that. And it’s the very dickens to get a grass surface level.”
Laurie nodded. It was evident to Ned, who had been watching him closely, that Laurie’s mind was not on the tennis-court. “What’s eating you, partner?” he asked finally. Laurie started.
“Me? Nothing. That is, I’ve been thinking.”
“Don’t,” begged Ned. “You know what it did to you yesterday.”