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.