“I didn’t mean to, Spud. I just hit a ball across and he was leaning over the net quite near and didn’t see it coming. It—it bled horribly.”
“Well, he will be all right,” Sandy said comfortingly. “Accidents will happen on the best regulated courts.”
“Just the same,” observed Spud, “it isn’t considered sportsmanlike to maim your enemy, Molly.” But Molly looked so troubled that Spud stopped his efforts at teasing. “I see you’re wearing the right color, Molly.”
“So is Clara,” murmured Ned.
“Yes, but if you don’t beat the Hall next Saturday I’m going to wear blue,” she answered. There was a groan of protest at that.
“We’re going to win, though,” said Spud sturdily, “aren’t we, Cal?”
“I cal’late we’ll put up a good fight,” was the cautious reply.
“We’re going to win,” said The Fungus vehemently as he got up. “That’s what we’re going to do. Now I’ll go up and see how Clara’s nose is behaving. I hope it isn’t damaged. It’s a nice little nose.”
It wasn’t damaged, but it presented a reddened and swollen appearance when Clara brought it to the supper table a few minutes later. He had to put up with a good deal of ragging from the others.
“I shall have to tell Molly to be more careful with you,” said Spud. “You’re not used to the gentle ways of women, Clara.”