“Didn’t see you at practice, Molly,” said Ned, throwing himself down wearily on the steps.
“No, I didn’t go today,” answered Molly. “I was teaching Clara tennis.”
“What? Well, you must be getting on!”
“I don’t play very well, of course, Ned, but I know what you have to do. And that’s what I was showing Clara.”
“Oh, I see. Where is he?” Ned looked about him.
“He—he went upstairs.” Molly hesitated and looked troubled. “He got hit with a ball.”
“How awful!” laughed Spud. “Did it kill him?”
“N-no, but it made his nose bleed. It hit him right square on the nose.”
“Why, Molly!” said Spud in shocked tones. “Is that the way you treat your opponents? You ought to be playing football instead of tennis.”