“Net ball.”

“Out.”

“Come on, now; she serves awfully swift; look out.”

“Come on, Jenkie! Put all your strength into it!”

“Hit it up! Hit it up! Keep it going!”

“I served then; one point for us.”

“What’s the score?”

“Five all.”

“Good! Good, Virgie!”

“Now Eight,—your turn.”

“Only one assist.”

“Come up a little further. You can stand there. Every inch counts.”

“My turn to serve?”

“Hit it!”

“O, how could I? A mile above my dear head!”

“What’s the matter with this team? That’s the third time, Isabel, that you’ve knocked Pat over, and Betty got hit in the eye.”

“Y’see, you ran out of your place and were in my way.”

“You dropped your comb, Bertha.”

“What’s the score?”

“Twelve to seven.”

“Whose favor?”

“The Pennacooks’.”

“Come on, Kennebecs!”

“Wake up, girls; don’t let ’em beat us!”

“Did everybody serve? Begin all over? All right; I don’t want to cheat.”

“That’s the way, keep it up; send it back.”

“Out.”

It is volley ball, in which two of the six teams are playing. Back and forth flies the big ball. Like the flag, it must not touch the ground. Girlish figures run hither and thither, strike the ball and send it flying over the net to the opposite side, where the performance is repeated. Good spirit prevails. They are playing to win, for the sake of the team and for personal reasons as well; but however eager or disappointed they may feel, no one shows ill will. Pride and camp spirit prevent that. Sometimes it is a little hard to accept the hindrances which the little girls or the less experienced ones offer, but as a rule these are coached and encouraged by the rest of the team. A good play is applauded by both sides.

“Now try it, June. That’s it. Put a little more strength into it next time. Hit it hard and send it a little higher. You get another turn. Toss it up and then bang away!”

“Send it to me and I’ll hit it over.”

June takes her stand, tosses up the ball and hits it. It goes off to the side, but one of the girls who stands there, hits it over the net. Back it comes and over it goes again, sent by a hard blow from Hilary.

“They’re coming up fine.”

“Thirteen to ten.”

“Yes,” cried the captain of the Kennebecs. “Where’s some wood?” she cries, rapping on her head. “Come on, Kennebecs!”

“Thirteen to eleven,” announces the referee, as the Kennebecs score another point. The game grows exciting.

“Good work, Lilian.”

“Get it, Margaret. O, you weren’t quick enough!”

“Be ready.”

“Come on, Pennacooks!”

“What’s the score?”

“Fourteen to twelve.”

“Betty’s serve.”

The Pennacooks, nerved to greater effort by their higher score and the increasing score of the Kennebecs made the fifteenth point and won the game. Two games out of three they had thus won, and the Kennebecs generously gave the first cheer for the winning team.

“No hurry, girls,” said Lilian, dropping down in the shade. A red-eyed vireo in the bushes had not stopped rooting for both sides during the game, and an olive-sided flycatcher had come out to sit on a wire by one of the tennis courts and inquire which side beat. So Hilary interpreted their remarks, as she pointed them out to the girls.

Hilary, June, Eloise, Lilian and Cathalina were among the defeated Kennebecs, while Isabel, Nora, Betty and Frances were of the victorious Pennacooks. Helen and Marion played with the Ossipees, who were at present playing baseball down on what might be called Merrymeeting Green, near the water front.

“The baseball games aren’t over yet,” Lilian continued, “and besides they’ll have to rest.” The girls stretched out or curled up where tall bushes and some trees offered shade.

“Whom do we play in basketball?”

“The Ossipees.”

“Well, we must beat them,” declared Hilary. “I’ll simply pass away if we can’t.”

“Team work, girls,” said Eloise, who was captain.

“My, it’s hot this morning in the sun,” said Lilian. “Cathalina, I’ll beat you in tennis this afternoon, if we can get a court after rest hour.”

“All right as to playing. As to beating, we’ll see.”

“You’re the two champions among the Seniors, aren’t you?”

“I guess so,” replied Lilian.

“Of course you’ll get a court, then. And you’ll have an audience, too. Which court do you want? We’ll see that you get it. I’m terribly thirsty. Let’s go over to the club house and get a drink. We can sit on the porch till the girls come. There’s always a wonderful breeze there. I suppose your team is at baseball next, Nora?”

“Yes, and we must be going, too,—come on, girls.”

This was a busy week in athletics. The July tournaments were on. Tennis was being played off as could be managed about the courts. The schedule was posted in the club house. Lilian and Cathalina were easily the best in tennis and had yet their match to play.

In volley ball, baseball and basketball, the six teams played against each other. Every girl in camp was assigned to a team, though a few were excused for some special reason, and only took part in the games at times. There was not the intense excitement or the temptation to over-strain that there is sometimes in the games between schools; but there was great interest in these active sports and a very human desire to excel.

Volley ball and tennis were played upon courts, which were located on the level ground back of the camp buildings. Beyond the courts stretched a big meadow, partly level, but sloping down to bushes and trees along the back water of the Kennebec. On the other side of courts and meadow were bushes and trees and the charming road or lane which wound along past Sunset Rock, the pine grove and the birches, through Merrymeeting boundaries, to the world of the mainland beyond. Just back of the club house and at the beginning of this little road were the posts and baskets for the basketball games.

That afternoon, though the sun was still hot, the cool Maine breeze stirred the sunny locks of Lilian and Cathalina as the girls met for the final test of skill in tennis. Both girls played well, having played for several years. A few councillors and a number of the girls occupied a bench or two, or found seats on the grass beside the favorite court, the one nearest the lane.

“Now, Lil,” said Cathalina, as swinging their racquets they walked toward the court, “you are such a dear, that only I’m afraid of one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“That you will hate to beat me and won’t play your best.”

“I thought that all out, Cathalina, and I think that the only fair thing is for each of us to play her level best. And don’t you let me beat you because you hate to beat me, or get lazy and do not care!”

“I guess that is the more likely,” acknowledged Cathalina, laughing. “I’m a lazy-bones, but I promise to do my best. Beware!”

“Here comes the champs!”

“What’s the matter with the champions?”

“Rah, rah, Lil!”

“Rah, rah, Cathie!”

The comparatively small company gathered near the court were more audience than rooters, and applauded impartially both players, though Isabel never failed to cheer some good play by Cathalina, and Virgie shouted at the top of her Western lungs for Lilian.

“Look at Lil. Good work, Lilian; you have a wicked serve!”

“Fifteen—love.”

So evenly matched were the girls that most of the games were deuce games. Fourteen were played before Lilian won the first set.

The second set was won by Cathalina, who played with brilliance and determination. Her most effective play was what the girls cheered as a “slam”, almost impossible to return, which she delivered with surprising force for one so slight. This she had learned from Philip. But Lilian, too, had a brother, had been accustomed to playing with Cathalina, and was not as much disturbed by this play as were the more inexperienced girls against whom Cathalina had been playing during these days of tournament.

“Do you read my mind, Lil,” asked Cathalina once, when Lilian so quickly reached the particular spot back in the court where she was needed.

“I’m sorry, Cathalina; that was a peach,” said Lilian, as one of Cathalina’s returns went an inch or so outside.

“Great cut, Lilian,” remarked Cathalina, when Lilian’s ball went over the net, hit the right spot, and refused to bounce to Cathalina’s racquet.

In the third set, excitement rose among the spectators. Endurance was not Cathalina’s strong point and she grew tired, but played on apparently as well as ever. She had won four games, Lilian five, and the score of the present game stood forty to thirty in Lilian’s favor, when she returned, backhand, a difficult ball from Cathalina. It dropped over the net and Cathalina was not quite quick enough to reach the net from the back of the court. The game was Lilian’s and wild applause proclaimed her winner of the tennis tournament.

Meanwhile in the bushes two deeply interested spectators had arrived by way of the lane. Having been informed by Jo and June, who were playing “jacks” on the club house floor, that Cathalina and Lilian were finishing the tournament, two masculine visitors decided to go to the courts by the back way and remain unseen if possible while watching the progress of the game. June had suggested it, saying that it might “fuss” the girls, since they were not expecting company.

“You’re a bright, kind little June-bug, aren’t you?” asked Campbell, and June gave him one of her happy smiles, as he strode off with Philip Van Buskirk.

“Well-well! Which will you root for, Philip, sister or best girl?”

“We’ll not dare root for anybody if we have to keep out of sight.”

“Wise reply. True, and doesn’t give you away.”

Philip scarcely knew where loyalty demanded his presence. He was proud of his pretty little sister, but every time he looked at the graceful Lilian he fell more deeply in love.

“How about a love set with Lilian, old man?” queried Campbell.

“I’ll play one any day,” replied the unembarrassed Philip.

“But ‘love’ means ‘nothing’,” added Campbell.

“Unfortunately so.”

“Good for Cathalina!” exclaimed Campbell, with cousinly regard, at an especially good play. Before this he had found where Hilary was sitting, and did not find the game so engrossing that he could not include Hilary in his line of vision.

Then came the last plays, Lilian’s victory, and Philip found himself watching her, as she received congratulations and talked happily with the girls. The boys waited a few moments till most of the crowd were moving off, a few Greycliff girls still around Lilian and Cathalina, then walked around into sight.

“A surprise for you, Cathalina,” called Campbell.

Turning, the girls saw Philip and Campbell, and with many exclamations of wonder and pleasure, went to meet them.

“Why, Philip Van Buskirk!” exclaimed Cathalina. “Why didn’t you write that you were coming?”

“Didn’t know it myself till the last minute, Kitten. Say I was proud of your playing. And Lilian, that was great!”

“Were you back there all the time?”

“Just for the last two games. It was all we could do to keep still and not join in the rooting, but June warned us not to appear before the games were over.”

“When did you arrive, Philip?” asked Hilary.

“This morning. Campbell wrote that this would be a good time to come, I wired him and came. He says that there is to be a picnic up here tomorrow.”

“Yes, indeed; we entertain the Boothbay boys.”

“Let’s sit down right here and talk,” suggested Cathalina, moving toward the benches. “Then we can show you around a little.”

“I’m afraid we’ll have to put that off till tomorrow,” said Campbell, “if we go down to camp with the tide. But we can visit a little while.” Thus speaking, he waved Hilary to a seat next to Cathalina on a bench and dropped on the grass at her feet.