CONCLUSION
Patricia served. Tommy returned it, whereupon Patricia sent a ball which
Tommy failed to reach.
“Fifteen love,” announced the referee. The Scott Sisters had won the
first point easily.
“Look alive!” snapped Harriet, cutting her words off short. “Keep the cup
in mind, but don’t look at it.”
The Scott Sisters took another point; then the tide changed. The
Meadow-Brook Girls made two points in succession. The score stood at
thirty-all. Then the latter gave a point to their opponents by a winning
cross-court volley made by Patricia’s sister. Harriet earned the next
point for the Meadow-Brooks by driving a terrific ball straight at
Patricia Scott. The ball hit her squarely on the left eye, bounded back
and came to rest in her court before she realized what had occurred. The
spectators uttered a shout.
The two teams were tied at deuce. Harriet began speeding up, but took two
long chances and faulted two points to her opponents. The Scott Sisters
had won the first game of the set, but there had been no lack of
excitement. They had secured the necessary two points after the score had
stood at deuce, or three points each.
Excitement ran high. There could be no doubt that here were two _real_
teams. About this time the word began to be passed about that the
Meadow-Brook Girls had never played a real game of tennis up to about
five weeks before the tournament. It was inconceivable. But by the time
the Scott Sisters had won the first set, Tommy was showing a little
weariness and welcomed the seven minutes’ rest granted to both teams.
Encouraged by Mr. Disbrow, and still determined to have the cup, the
Meadow-Brooks won the second set after a bitter fight. They walked
briskly to their tent amid the cheers and shouts of the spectators. In
the tent they were fanned, their faces bathed, their mouths rinsed with
water—they were not permitted to drink—then once more they were called
forth to what all believed was to be a great battle. If anything, Harriet
Burrell was fresher, stronger than at any time since she had begun
playing in the tournament, but it was too much to hope that she and Tommy
could ever stand up under the cruel grilling of the Scott Sisters, who
seemed to know every trick that was known to tennis players. Tommy and
Harriet would do well to earn second place.
P. Earlington Disbrow’s face was pale, his hair was rumpled, his fingers
were open and closing nervously, while little beads of perspiration stood
out on his forehead.
The next set was a fight from start to finish. The Meadow-Brooks went at
it aggressively. They hammered the Scott Sisters, giving them such a
grilling as those two players had never experienced. Twice during the one
game Patricia had been made a target for Harriet’s ball, twice had
Patricia been struck in the face, unable to dodge in time to avoid, or to
hit the ball the way it came to her. She appealed angrily to the referee,
only to be informed that if she could not keep out of the way of the ball
she must expect to be hit. As a point was scored for her opponent each
time the ball touched her person or her clothing, Patricia naturally was
angry.
The Scott Sisters threw themselves savagely into their work. Some time
since they had learned the Meadow-Brook code of signals, as Harriet
quickly discovered. The code was abandoned then and there, but as she
played Harriet was devising a new scheme for outwitting their opponents.
Then to Harriet’s dismay she discovered that Tommy was giving out. Little
Tommy seemed to be withering. She was making a desperate effort to hide
her utter weariness, but the quick eyes of their opponents discovered
this fact very shortly after Harriet had done so.
“Favor yourself. I’ll take the bulk of the work,” flashed Harriet, when
near enough to speak without being overheard. The opposition having
observed that the little lisping girl was weakening began to hammer her,
volleying at her, hurling ground balls into her court, directing almost
their full attack at her.
Harriet, in making a run to her companion’s assistance, slipped, fell,
but was on her feet almost instantly. Miss Elting saw the girl twist her
face as if she were suffering great pain. Harriet limped a little.
“Oh, that _settles_ it!” groaned Disbrow.
But it was not settled yet. Game after game was played, first one side
getting the odd game then the other, and at every other game the score
went from advantage to deuce and back again. It was well-nigh impossible
to get the two games necessary to give the set to one side or the other.
The day was waning. Harriet Burrell and Tommy Thompson had been on the
courts for hours. Their opponents also had been playing fully as long,
but they were large and strong, while one of the Meadow-Brook partners
was slight and was fast becoming exhausted.
Harriet, by taking all of her partner’s work that she possibly could,
gave Tommy a little rest. The latter finally announced that she felt
strong enough to take her full share of the play. It was then that
Harriet tried the new plans she had been thinking out. She had observed
in all the playing that players always glanced quickly in the direction
they proposed to send the ball. This had been a great help to her in
deciding where an opponent’s ball was going. She tried the plan of
looking in the opposite direction just before she served a ball. The
effect exceeded her fondest expectations. The striker-out leaped the
wrong way the first time the trick was turned on her and Harriet scored a
point. From that on the trick was applied now and then and almost always
with success. Harriet’s lips were set tight all the time she played and
it was plain to those who knew her well that she was suffering great
pain, but from what they did not know.
The Scott Sisters were furious. Where they had confidently looked for an
easy victory, they found themselves fighting the greatest battle of their
lives. Three times they had been warned by the referee for violations of
the law, and, had the Meadow-Brook Girls demanded it, the game, under
these circumstances, would have gone to them. They made no such demand.
They proposed to fight it out to the bitter end. It was deuce, then
advantage, advantage, then deuce again and again. Would there be no end
to it? Each side determined that the next game should put an end to it.
“I am afraid Miss Thompson is too far gone for our wonderful girls to
win. But oh, what a magnificent battle!” cried Mr. Disbrow. Captain Baker
opened his mouth to reply, but was too overcome with emotion to do so.
“Tommy, _we must win this game_! Understand?” whispered Harriet.
Grace nodded weakly. They were advantage-in on games, being one game in
the lead. It now needed but a game to win the match for them, but it had
needed but one game to do that several times during this grilling battle.
“You play close to the net on your side. I will cover the court. If they
lob, I will try to get out in time to volley it back. Now do your best.
Remember the cup! Remember the beautiful cup, Tommy,” encouraged Harriet.
Tommy looked toward the cup, now turned to molten gold under the last
rays of the departing sun. Tommy uttered a little squeal and leaped up
into the air to meet a lob from her opponent, which she did so
successfully that she scored for her team.
“Good girl!” encouraged Harriet. “Keep them at the back of the—oh, that
was too bad,” as Patricia scored a point. The score in that game now
stood thirty-fifteen. The Scott Sisters gained another point over Tommy’s
fault, making the score thirty-all.
“Slow ball over the net,” commanded Harriet. Tommy obeyed and Tommy
scored. Patricia volleyed, then darted back near the baseline ready to
take a hard volley which she expected in return from Harriet, who was
going to make the return, or to run up in case of a drop-ball.
Harriet saw it all. It was a critical moment. Her plans were formed in a
second’s time. She sent a floater toward her opponent’s court. It hit the
net-band, the strip of white canvas on the upper edge of the net.
Patricia had darted forward just as Harriet knew she would, but as the
ball hit the net-band, Patricia stopped short and laughed. She thought
the ball had been played into the net and that it would fall back into
her opponent’s court, thus scoring a point for the Scott team.
Instead of doing so the tennis ball, after striking the net-band, hopped
over the net and dropped into Patricia Scott’s court, rolled along a few
feet toward the side-line and stopped. It was as neat a “net ball” as any
expert there had ever seen played.
“Game!” announced the referee. “The Meadow-Brook team wins.”
That was all. For a few seconds there was silence. The sun flashed out of
sight and the cup changed from gold to silver. Harriet limped toward the
net.
“Will you shake hands with me, Patricia?” she asked, with a wan smile.
“Only because I have to.” Patricia’s voice was low, and only Harriet
heard her add, “I hate you more than ever!” With that she hurried off the
court.
It seemed that up to that moment the spectators had not realized that the
game was over. Now it came to them with tremendous force.
The little serge-clad Meadow-Brook Girls, the girls who had had but five
weeks’ practice on the tennis court, had won one of the greatest amateur
matches that had ever been played on the Atlantic coast. A great,
explosive roar burst from the throats of the spectators.
P. Earlington Disbrow, forgetting that his sprained ankle was no longer
sprained, began hopping about like a rabbit. The boys fought their way
through the throngs that were almost mobbing them to get at the
victorious girls. They got them safely to the dressing tent, but as soon
as they were inside Harriet’s head had drooped and she leaned heavily on
Captain Baker’s shoulder.
“She’s fainted,” said George as they gently laid her down on a cot in the
dressing tent. Miss Elting and a pale-faced woman rushed into the tent at
this juncture. The latter threw herself down by the cot and gathered
Harriet into her arms. Tommy sat gasping on the floor while a girl in a
white sweater was bathing her face with cold water.
Harriet suddenly opened her eyes and looked into the face of the woman
who was holding her so tightly.
“Mother, O, Mother! is it you?” she breathed, with a sharp catch in her
voice.
“You fainted, but you are all right now. Oh, it was wonderful, but it was
terrible,” sobbed Mrs. Burrell.
“It was foolish in me to faint,” answered Harriet weakly. “I wouldn’t
have fainted, but I sprained my ankle more than an hour ago. It seemed as
if every step I took would kill me.”
Disbrow, with face now flushed, had been standing on one leg peering
anxiously in at Harriet and her friends.
“Do you hear, P. E.?” shouted George, rushing to him and shaking a fist
under Disbrow’s nose. “Do you hear that? She’s been playing on a sprained
ankle for more than an hour, and yet they won the cup! _They won the
cup!_ Lucky for me that my heart’s all right! Whoope-e-e!”
Word of this was quickly passed, and the people would not leave until
they had seen Harriet. She was carried out—the boys would not permit her
to step even on one foot—then as she slipped an arm about Tommy’s neck
and smiled bravely, another great shout went up. But now Jack Herrington
was pushing his way to them. In his hands he held the trophy they had
won, the much-coveted silver cup. He held up his hand for silence.
“It is my pleasure,” he said, “to present this handsome trophy to the
Meadow-Brook Girls. It has been fairly won, and that after the most
wonderful exhibition of pluck and endurance that it ever has been my good
fortune to witness. I congratulate you from my heart. I am proud of you,
proud of the honor that is mine, and hope we may meet again.”
The outburst that followed drowned his concluding words. It was at this
moment that Jane McCarthy came tearing up in her motor car, scattering
people to the right and to the left. The Meadow-Brook Girls were going
back to their camp to spend the night, then on the morrow they were going
home, bearing the precious trophy that Harriet and Tommy had won for
them. There was also a smaller cup that had been awarded to Jane and
Hazel, but the big trophy was the prize that overshadowed everything
else.
Immediately on their return to camp Harriet’s ankle was dressed by Miss
Elting, after the guardian had satisfied herself that no bones were
broken. The faithful Tramp Club had elected to remain on guard about the
Meadow-Brook camp that night. P. Earlington Disbrow also remained with
them and after supper both camps gathered in front of the tent for a
long, happy evening. In spite of her sprained ankle Harriet insisted on
making one of the party.
Sam, who had been pursuing diligent inquiries regarding the young man to
whom he had administered a well-merited beating, now informed them that
the spy was none other than the brother of the Scott Sisters, thus
verifying the suspicion in the minds of Jane and Harriet that Patricia
Scott was responsible for the cutting of their tent ropes. Jane cast a
triumphant glance toward Harriet while Sam was speaking, but the almost
imperceptible shake of Harriet’s head caused the impulsive Irish girl to
remain silent regarding Patricia’s past misdeeds.
It was late before the Meadow-Brook Girls said good night to the Tramp
Club and went into their tent and the boys stationed themselves outside
for their vigil.
A few minutes after the Meadow-Brook Girls and their guardian had rolled
up in their blankets for the night Tommy mumbled sleepily:
“Harriet!”
“Yes, little partner?”
“Don’t forget about that thilver polithh and the cloth, will you?”
“I won’t forget,” promised Harriet. Five minutes later Harriet, too, was
wrapped in sleep, and the round-faced moon smiled kindly down on the
tired but triumphant Meadow-Brook Girls.
The End.
Transcriber’s Notes
--Copyright notice provided as in the original printed text—this e-text
is public domain in the country of publication.
--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and
dialect unchanged.