  Faith and Muriel were studying together the next morning, which chanced to be Saturday, when they heard a hurrying of feet in the corridor and then a merry banging on the door. “Come in,” Muriel called. The door was flung open and in bounced Gladys Goodsell and Catherine Lambert, wearing tennis shoes and carrying their racquets and balls. “Top o’ the morning to you,” Gladys sang out. “The coast is clear!” Catherine announced almost at the same time. The two, who were seated at a small table strewn with papers and books, looked up inquiringly. “What coast and how clear?” Faith inquired. Gladys threw herself down upon the window seat while Catherine perched on the foot of the bed. “Marianne Carnot and Adelaine Stuart have gone to the city for the day. Think of that! They left on the mail boat at nine o’clock sharp, chaperoned by Miss Widdemere, and are to return at six-thirty P. M. Were we ever in greater luck?” Still the listeners were puzzled. “Faith Morley, put on your thinking bonnet! Don’t you know that we have been just pining to have an opportunity to instruct Muriel in the beginnings of tennis without being spied upon by our arch-enemy, whatever that may mean. Anyway, it sounds much grander than just enemy.” “That is true,” Faith replied, “but this morning Muriel and I were planning to study. Can’t we play this afternoon?” Faith had not told the others that in reality she was trying to instruct the island girl in spelling the simplest words, but Muriel was quite willing that these two dear friends might know, and so she said: “Teacher Faith, I think I’m gettin’ a notion of what you mean about the lesson, and if you’d like to be teachin’ me tennis, I’d love to be learnin’ it.” “Very well,” Faith said as she arose, glad indeed to join in the outdoor game they all so enjoyed. “I haven’t a thing to do until my violin lesson at three o’clock, although I think I had better practice for an hour before Herr Professor arrives on the scene today. Last Saturday he said, ‘Mees Morley, the practice is less of late, why for?’” Then she added: “Into your sport skirt, Muriel, and if you haven’t tennis shoes I’ll loan you a pair. Fare-thee-well. I’ll be back in a twinkling.” Faith skipped away to her room to change her dress. Catherine and Gladys announced that they would go ahead to the court and practice until the others joined them. Ten minutes later Faith reappeared, holding a pair of tennis shoes. She found Muriel studying the primer. Rilla looked up with laughter in her hazel eyes. “D-e-a-r,” she announced. “It’s the beginning of a letter. I wonder how long ’twill be before I can be writin’ one that a person could be readin’?” She was putting a burnt orange tam atop of her red-brown hair as she spoke, and then she slipped on a sweater of the same becoming hue. “Who are you so eager to write to, anyway?” Faith was curious. “Oh, it’s several friends I have that I’d like to be writin’ to,” Muriel began; then, chancing to glance at the chart made for her by Faith to aid in correcting the mistakes she so frequently made, she repeated, very slowly and thoughtfully: “I have several friends to whom I wish to write.” “That’s great!” Faith exclaimed, her face glowing with pleasure. “Think ahead of each word that you say for a few weeks, dear, and soon you will find that it will be hard for you to speak incorrectly.” Then, slipping her arm within that of her friend, she added: “The champion tennis players will now descend to the court.” Faith chatted gaily as they went down the wide stairs, out through the basement door, crossed the garden, where few flowers were blossoming, as the nights were frosty, and toward the tennis courts. Muriel, however, was silent. She was wondering how long it would be before she could write a letter to Gene unaided. “Greetings!” Gladys called as Muriel and Faith approached. She waved her racket and then, as the ball, sent with a smash by Catherine, landed in the court just back of her, she whirled with a sudden swift movement, caught it on the first bound and sent it flying back over the net. The island girl stared at her in amazement. “Why, Gladys, it’s like a top you’re whirling!” she exclaimed. “Is it me that’s expected to learn such antics?” The other three laughed, and Catherine, catching the ball, walked around the net to join the group. “We don’t expect you to do such expert playing as that for this tournament,” Faith assured her. “In fact, we do not expect you to take part in any of the actual contest games until next spring, but you might as well begin your training. It’s jolly good fun, if nothing more.” Muriel sighed audibly and Faith laughed. “Rilla,” she said, and the island girl heard her grand-dad’s pet name for her for the first time since she had arrived at High Cliffs, “have you been worrying for fear we did expect you to play against Marianne Carnot on that fateful day? Indeed not! Catherine Lambert is the only pupil in this school who can even approach Marianne in skill and dexterity. You know the English are great for outdoor sports of all kinds.” “But it’s French Marianne is, I thought.” “Her father is a Frenchman, but he is connected with English and American shipping interests. It’s a huge concern, I don’t know just what, but I have heard Marianne say that their ships circle the globe. Because of this, Monsieur Carnot resides in England, where his daughter attended a school, and she takes every opportunity to assure us it was really intended only for the daughters of the lesser nobility, if you know what or who they may be.” “I plead total ignorance,” Gladys declared. “I’m glad that I’m an American. My dad made every penny that he possesses, and honestly, too. Grand-dad happened to own vast farmlands which the City of New York wished to possess, and for which it paid a fabulous price, hence the grand-daughter of a farmer is attending High Cliffs with the daughters of the lesser nobility, if any happen to be here.” Catherine Lambert laughed. “Well, since we four are not guilty, let’s cease chatting and go to batting.” “Cathy, I believe you are trying to be a poet,” Faith remonstrated. “Don’t, dear, we’d hate to have our best tennis player take to day-dreaming.” “No danger of that! I simply couldn’t write a poem if my life depended upon it. Now, let’s explain the game. Muriel, here is a racket for you.” Catherine looked over at Faith, who smilingly nodded, and said: “Keep up the good work, Cathy. If you leave out any leading points Gladys and I will supply them.” “Very well, if I am appointed instructress, I will proceed to instruct,” Catherine said. Then she added in a tone of mock seriousness: “Miss Storm, before you is a tennis court, the boundaries of which are outlined in white. A net, you will perceive, is stretched across the center, and the opponents stand two on either side. Comprenez vous?” Then, noting the pupil’s puzzled expression, she translated: “Do I make it clear?” Muriel nodded. Catherine continued: “The first player to serve the ball is selected and the game begins. Now, the object of the server is to send the ball over the net in such a manner that it will be difficult for the opponent to reach it before it bounds twice. It may be returned after the first bounce, but not after the second.” Then, turning to the others: “Now, shall we begin? Muriel will learn more by actual practice than by any amount of explanation. I will take her for my partner.” “Oh, Catherine, you’ll be sorry if you do,” Muriel laughingly protested. “No, she won’t,” Faith returned. “Catherine could win the game singly against any two girls in this school if Marianne were not an opponent.” Then the game began. Gladys served and the ball fell easily within Muriel’s reach, but she stood and gazed at it. For a fraction of a second Catherine waited, then realizing that Muriel did not understand that she was expected to return the ball, she leaped to the other side and, zip, it went flying gracefully back over the net. After that it was kept in the air, one volley shot following another in quick succession until Faith had the misfortune to throw it into the net, then they all paused for a breathing spell. Muriel shook her head. “You might’s well give up the notion of teachin’ me. Such spinnin’ around I never could do.” Faith laughed. “Don’t be discouraged. We all felt just that way in the beginning. Now, Gladys, let’s sit beneath this juniper tree and let Muriel get some actual practice.” This they did, and during the next half hour Muriel did some leaping and running that made the observers decide that, when she understood the rules of the game, she would play at least as well as the majority. “The luncheon bell is ringing,” Faith sang out at last. The players stopped and the others, gazing at Muriel, suddenly realized she was truly beautiful. Her loosened hair clustered in moist ringlets about her flushed face, her orange colored tam was jauntily askew, and her eyes were glowing. “That was great fun,” she said, when the garden door was reached. “Thank you all for tryin’ to teach me.” |
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