GRIFFITH’S CHOICE
All during dinner Ruth watched Marjorie’s ever increasing popularity
with a sense of irritation. And after the party adjourned to the porch
the talk was of nothing but the experiences of her hated rival.
“Are you too tired to go to the dance tonight, Marjorie?” asked John
Hadley, with concern.
Marjorie smiled peacefully; it was so pleasant just to be able to do as
she pleased. She settled herself comfortably in the cushioned wicker
chair, and half closed her eyes in contentment.
“No, thanks, John; I believe I’ll stay right here tonight, and rest.
For I want to take part in the meet tomorrow afternoon.”
Ruth frowned unconsciously; already she saw her chance of winning the
cup, and with it the prestige the victory would carry, vanishing from
her grasp. She longed so much to be included among the intimate friends
of the Trowbridge girls, and to be interesting to Griffith Hunter. Thus
far, she had made no progress; not a single boy, except Harold, had
shown her any attention. She might almost as well have remained at
home. Marjorie, absent or present, was always the center of interest.
Making a great effort to conceal her annoyance, she glanced at the
group about her in the hope that John, or Jack,--or anyone except
Harold--might invite her to accompany him to the dance.
But John Hadley’s next remark dispelled any such hope as far as he was
concerned.
“I believe I’ll stay at home then,” he declared. “I guess I’m pretty
tired, too. How about you, Wilkinson?”
“Me for bed!” exclaimed Jack, with feeling.
The groups began to talk among themselves, and in a moment Ruth found
her ever-present admirer at her side.
“Will you go with me tonight?” whispered Harold.
The girl glanced at the landscape in front of her, the lovely lawn, the
feathery trees, and the moon just beginning to peep through them. What
a night! If only there were some way to succeed in obtaining Griffith
Hunter as her partner. But the young man had not put in an appearance
since the morning, and in all probability he intended to take one of
the Trowbridge girls. So Ruth sighed, and decided to accept the only
invitation she was likely to secure.
“Boys and girls!” said Mrs. Andrews, abruptly interrupting the general
buzz of conversation in all parts of the veranda, “Will you please make
up your minds about the tennis matches, and let Mr. Andrews know by
tomorrow afternoon? The preliminaries are to be played off Thursday and
Friday morning, and the finals Friday afternoon.”
“What tennis matches?” cried Marjorie, in delight. She had heard
nothing of the tournament up to that time.
“I guess Mr. Andrews had better tell you all about it,” replied the
hostess. “He understands the game better than I do.”
“All right,” said her husband, “but there isn’t much to explain. We
thought we’d keep it a mixed doubles match, so everyone may choose
their own partner. You are privileged to take someone of our party,
or a friend from Silvertown. But let me have the entries by tomorrow
afternoon.”
“Suppose a boy chooses a girl who has already chosen another boy
before?” asked Ruth. “What then?”
“Well, I think it would be best for the boys to do the asking--just as
you do at a dance,” put in Mrs. Andrews. “But any boy who doesn’t want
to ask a girl may just hand his name in to Mrs. Andrews. And likewise a
girl who isn’t asked by any one in particular, will be provided with a
partner.”
“What fun!” cried Marjorie. “Oh, I do wish I were a better player.”
Ruth said nothing; she knew that her chances of winning were good,
could she but obtain a skillful partner. Harold played rather well,
but not remarkably. It was Ruth’s dream to take the whole match without
losing a single set, to come off with such a spectacular victory that
her triumph would dull the brilliancy of any success Marjorie might win
in the canoe meet. For Ruth had often beaten Marjorie in singles; and
there was hardly another girl to fear among the scouts.
Before long the groups began to disappear from the porch and stroll
along the winding driveway in twos and fours towards the club house.
Mr. Remington and Miss Phillips chaperoned the dancers, while Mr. and
Mrs. Andrews remained at home with Marjorie and Frieda, and three or
four of the boys. Ruth and Harold were the last to leave.
“Ruth, may I stay and play the tennis match with you?” he asked as soon
as they were out of hearing distance from the porch.
“Don’t you think, Harold, that it’s imposing on the Andrews to stay so
long?” Ruth returned, a little sharply. “That would keep you here till
Saturday, you know!”
Harold wrinkled his forehead. What did Ruth mean by suddenly becoming
so solicitous about her hostess’s wishes?
“But I was invited!”
“Well, for my part, I wouldn’t want to be under such obligations to
total strangers. But, of course, if you don’t mind----”
“Ruth!” He took her arm in an effort to make her walk more slowly. “You
don’t want me to stay!”
“Don’t hold my arm, Harold,” she said, pulling it away. “It’s so
conspicuous.”
“It isn’t fair, Ruth, that you should treat me so coolly. Just look
what I’ve done for you--bribed, and lied, and----”
“That’s it! Tell me how much it has cost you!” snapped the girl. “Rub
it in, all you like!”
“Oh, please!” his voice was hurt, reproving. “How can you say such
things?”
“I’m sorry, Harold,” she apologized, softening her tone, and putting
her arm through his. “You did a lot, and risked all sorts of
dangers--but after all, you failed. And a miss is as good as a mile,
you know. In fact, I think the whole thing did more harm than good, for
Marjorie is more of a heroine than ever!”
“It’s true,” admitted the boy, disconsolately; “and now you turn me
aside for this new fellow!”
“What new fellow?” A momentary smile of satisfaction passed over the
girl’s face. If only Harold’s words were true!
“Why--what’s his name--Hunter!”
“He isn’t a special friend of mine,” said Ruth. “In fact, I believe
he’s quite smitten with Marj!”
“But you’re crazy to play the tennis match with him as your partner!”
“Only because I heard he’s a wonderful player. No, what I want is to
win--something! And if I can’t get the canoe meet, I want to stand a
chance in the tennis tournament.”
They were entering the club grounds now. Crossing the smooth, treeless
lawn of the golf links, they were afforded a splendid view of the moon
rising towards the center of the sky. Again Ruth forgot her companion
in contemplation of the beauty of the scene. Harold said nothing until
they reached the steps of the club house. Then he stopped short.
“Ruth!” he exclaimed, with one of his sudden bursts of inspiration,
“I have it! We’ll kidnap Marj again! I’ll take her out in the machine
tomorrow morning, and get stalled, so that she misses the meet.”
“Good idea,” said Ruth, indifferently. “But of course she won’t go.
Marj doesn’t like you.”
“I’ll offer to take her to the bathing beach, so as to save her
strength for the afternoon. Perhaps she’ll bite.”
Ruth shrugged her shoulders; she did not attach much hope to the plan.
“If you like,” she remarked. Then, starting up the steps, “Come on in,
Harold! If people see us standing here, they might talk.”
“And that,” said the boy, bitterly, “would spoil your chances.”
“Don’t be silly!”
Harold followed Ruth up the steps and they entered the softly lighted
dance hall. The music was playing, but there were not many dancing; for
in spite of the electric fans and the open windows, the atmosphere was
warm and oppressive.
Ruth looked searchingly for her new friends, but saw only two or three
casual acquaintances among the Silvertown group. Evidently Griffith
Hunter was not there. So she surrendered herself to a dull evening
tete-a-tete with Harold, with perhaps a few dances with some of the
scouts, and made no attempt to be entertaining. In reality, her partner
was relieved when she finally suggested that they go home.
Marjorie, on the contrary, with much less effort on her part, passed a
most agreeable evening at home. Lily, who had refused to leave her for
any length of time, soon persuaded Dick Roberts to take her back to the
house. Frieda and her new friend, Bob Felton, had gone for a canoe ride
on the lake; so Marjorie and Lily, with four of the boys, had the porch
to themselves.
“I’m going to try to get dad on the phone!” announced Jack. “And then I
believe I’ll turn in. Come on with me, Hadley.”
John rose reluctantly, as if he had no desire to leave Marjorie with
David Conner. All evening he had been trying in vain to find a chance
to ask her to be his partner in the tennis tournament; now he was
afraid that David would seize the opportunity his absence afforded to
ask the very question.
Perhaps David would have done so, had it not been for Dick Roberts.
Perceiving John’s disinclination to leave the group, Dick instantly
surmised his reason and came to the rescue by talking incessantly to
Marjorie for some time. Before he had stopped, Griffith Hunter appeared
at the steps.
“Hello, Hunter!” called David, cheerily. “Come on up.”
“Thanks,” replied the young man. “I haven’t long to stay.”
“You’ve met Miss Wilkinson, haven’t you, Mr. Hunter?” asked Lily.
“Yes, indeed!” he replied. “And it was for that very reason that I came
over. I want to ask you, Miss Wilkinson--” he bowed slightly--“whether
you would do me the honor of playing in the tennis tournament with me?”
John Hadley appeared through the screen door just in time to hear this
invitation. He stood perfectly still, in amazement at the boldness, the
assurance of this young aristocrat. Surely Marjorie would resent such
an attitude!
But to his surprise, Marjorie nodded gaily. “I’ll be delighted,” she
said. “I made up my mind to accept the first partner who asked me. And
really”--she looked shyly at David--“I was beginning to be afraid I’d
have to stay out.”
“Then, Lily,” exclaimed Dick, turning to the other girl, “I ask you
right now. The early bird--”
“So you mean to imply I’m a worm,” she retorted, haughtily. Then,
laughing, “Well, I guess I am when it comes to tennis. You won’t find
me much of a partner, Dick.”
“Oh, Jack, what’s the news?” cried Marjorie, suddenly noticing her
brother again.
“Dad and mother are still away,” he replied, briefly. “And now, if
you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll turn in.”
Griffith Hunter was persuaded to join the party and spend the remainder
of the evening with them. When he finally left them, and strolled down
the driveway towards the gate, he came upon Ruth and Harold, returning
from the dance.
“Hello!” he greeted them. “Awfully sorry to have missed you, Miss
Henry!”
“I’m sorry too,” replied Ruth.
A moment later she joined the girls on the stairs. “Griffith Hunter was
over to see me tonight, wasn’t he?” she remarked to Marjorie. “Too bad
I was away. He didn’t stay long, did he?”
“Just long enough to ask me to be his partner in the tennis
tournament,” replied Marjorie, with an amused smile.