  A glorious autumn day dawned, and great was the excitement at High Cliffs, for many interesting events were to take place before the setting of the sun, foremost among them being the contest for the tennis championship. Joy had told the three with whom she had expected to play that she wished they would continue their plans and permit Muriel to take her place. Catherine Lambert had stared in amazement. “Joy,” she exclaimed, “you don’t think that Muriel Storm can play well enough to enter the tournament, do you?” Then added: “Not but that I would be glad indeed to play with Muriel, but since she has had scarcely a month’s practice I merely thought her hardly well enough prepared; and, of course, we don’t want to fail so completely that we will be laughed at by the entire school.” Joy, for one impulsive moment, was inclined to tell Cathy the whole truth, but her better judgment prevailed, for she thought it very possible that Muriel might become self-conscious when she found herself playing before so many spectators and perhaps forget the trick she had so recently learned. After all it would be better not to praise the island girl’s playing too much, for she might fail. Joy stood looking out of her open window at the blue Hudson for a long, thoughtful moment before she inquired: “With whom are you planning to play, Catherine?” Her voice showed no trace of the disappointment that she truly felt because Muriel was not to be chosen. “Jane Wiggins plays very well, indeed,” was the reply. “I watched her for half an hour yesterday while she was practicing on the court. She doesn’t really belong to either side, although she said that Marianne Carnot had asked her to substitute. She is to sit on a bench nearby and be ready to run into the game if one of the players slips or wrenches her ankle or anything of that sort. When I spoke to Jane she said that she had not really promised Marianne that she would substitute, and that she would much rather play in the game.” Joy smiled. “Oh, course, Cathy dear, you girls are to do the playing, I am not; and you must select whoever you wish, but I had hoped that you would want Muriel to play with you.” “Suppose we place Muriel on the bench to substitute for us. Of course, any player is likely to slip and be out of the game,” Gladys suggested. This was agreed upon and to Joy fell the task of telling Muriel that she had not been chosen. When the others had gone, Joy went to the cupalo room and knocked. Muriel, she found, was already dressed in the short skirt and bloomers which the girls of High Cliffs were permitted to wear for their outdoor sports. “What is it, Joy? What have you to tell me?” Rilla asked, for one glance at the lovely face of their Dresden China girl assured her that something was wrong. It was with a sigh of relief that she heard what had happened. “Oh, I’m that pleased,” she said, “an’ I do hope you’re not mindin’, but I most couldn’t sleep last night with worryin’ about the games. I was so afraid that our side would lose, and if it did I knew that it would be my fault. Yesterday I happened to be out by the courts and saw Marianne Carnot and Adelaine Stuart practicin’, and such playin’ as they can do.” Then, peering into the troubled blue eyes of her friend in the same coaxing way that she had often peered under the shaggy grey brows of her grand-dad, she said: “Please forgive me, Joy, for bein’ glad about it, since you’ve tried so hard to teach me the stroke, an’ if you’re wishin’ it, I will sit on the bench and be substitute, but I haven’t much hope of our side winnin’ since I saw those two play.” With this arrangement Joy had to be content and she went back to her room to dress, not as one of the players, but in her warm all-over coat, since she was just to stand around and watch, for the air was invigoratingly cold. Although the bloomer suits worn by the players all were a light tan, their tams and sweater-coats were of various colors. Many eyes followed the dark, handsome French girl whose chosen hue was that of a cherry. She knew that it was most becoming to her, but since there were no lads about to impress, she cared little what manner of appearance she might be making. However, she did want to win the game by fair means or foul since her opponents were the girls who had befriended Muriel Storm, the one person in the whole world whom she wished to humiliate. Marianne lifted her finely arched black eyebrows ever so slightly as she glanced across the net to the spot near the evergreens where the five opponents were gathered. “Have they chosen Muriel Storm for substitute?” she inquired, her voice expressing her mingled surprise and amazement. “They must be courting defeat.” “But how can she play at all?” This from Adelaine Stuart. “I have never seen her practicing on these courts and surely before she came she had no opportunity to learn.” Marianne shrugged her shoulders. “Let us rejoice that they have chosen her, although, of course, they may not need a substitute; but if they do, it will mean an easy victory for us.” “More honor, though, if we had good players to defeat, I should think,” Phyllis Dexter ventured. But there was no time for further conversation as Miss Widdemere, who was to keep score, had arrived and was calling the names of the first four who were to take their places and select the server. Five games were to be played and the side winning three out of five would be proclaimed champion. Although Jane Wiggin was a fairly good player, she had not practiced with Catherine and was greatly handicapped thereby and the opponents easily won the first game. Marianne scarcely noticed when her few admirers among the watchers clapped and shouted. The victory had been too easy to be flattering, she thought. The next game was played by Gladys and Faith on one side and by two of Marianne’s friends on the other and there was far more enthusiasm among the spectators when Catherine’s side won a victory. Jane Wiggin, knowing that it was her poor teamwork that had lost the first game, sincerely wished that she had not agreed to play at all; but it was too late to withdraw. Though she did her best and though it was a hard-fought game, Catherine’s side lost. The score stood two games for Marianne and one for Catherine. Joy made her way among the onlookers and sat on the substitute’s bench next to Muriel. “Oh, if only I had my bloomers on,” she said in a low voice. “I would take Jane’s place even if I had to stay in bed for a week. But in these long skirts I just couldn’t run, so there is no use trying.” As she spoke, she glanced at the face of her friend and saw that she was intently watching every play being made by Gladys and Faith, who, as before, upheld the honor of their side and again won. Two games for each side; but, of course, since Jane was to play in the fifth, Catherine’s group had no hope of final victory. Jane knew this as well as did the others and she was so nervous when she took her place on the court that she could barely hold her racket. It was her turn to serve and she batted so blindly that the ball fell far afield. Then, to the surprise of the onlookers, she burst into tears and ran from the court and toward the school as fast as she could go. For a moment Catherine was panic-stricken; but what was happening? Muriel had leaped to the court that had been so unexpectedly deserted by Jane and had served the ball without observing the sarcastic smile of her French opponent. Marianne returned the serve with a volley, expecting to see the island girl miss; but, instead, the ball was returned with that smash stroke which had made Joy’s playing famous. Marianne did her swiftest running but before she reached the spot the ball had fallen dead and did not bounce. Amazed, the French girl’s brows contracted and, for the next few moments, she did her very best playing; but time after time Muriel smashed the ball over the net. If Marianne was close, then the ball fell back of her; if she was on the outer edge of the court, then the ball just cleared the net. The spectators crowded near. There was a breathless interest. What could it mean? No one at High Cliffs knew the stroke except Joy Kiersey. Suddenly a light dawned upon Faith. Joy had taught Muriel her trick stroke and that was why she had been so disappointed when Jane Wiggin had been asked to play. A shout arose from the onlookers and there was a sudden rush toward the island girl and everyone was congratulating her. Muriel had won the game, and once more Marianne had been defeated by “une burgeoise.” |
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