To Him That Hath: A Tale of the West of Today. Ralph Connor
that settles everything.”
“Well, doesn't it rather?” smiled Adrien.
“Oh, Jack, if you have any regard for your country, not to say my unworthy self, won't you humble her?” implored Frances. “If you would only buck up!”
“He will need to, eh, Adrien?” said a young fellow standing near, slowly sipping his drink.
“I think so. Indeed, I am quite sure of it,” coolly replied the girl addressed. “But I really think it is quite useless.”
“Ha! Ha! Cheer up, Jack,” laughed the young man, Stillwell by name.
“Really, old chap, I feel I must beat you this set,” said Captain Jack to the young Englishman. “My country's credit as well as my own is at stake, you see.”
“Both are fairly assured, I should say,” said the Englishman.
“Not to-day,” said Stillwell, with a suspicion of a polite sneer in his voice. “My money says so.”
“Canada vs. the Old Country!” cried a voice from the company.
“Now, Jack, Jack, remember,” implored Frances.
“You have no mercy, Miss Frances, I see,” said the Englishman, looking straight into her eyes.
“Absolutely none,” she replied, smiling saucily at him.
“Vae victis, eh, old chap?” said Sidney, as they sauntered off together to their respective courts. “By the way, who is that Stillwell chap?” he asked in a low voice of Captain Jack as they moved away from the others. “Of any particular importance?”
“I think you've got him all right,” replied Jack carelessly. The Englishman nodded.
“He somehow gets my goat,” said Jack. The Englishman looked mystified.
“Rubs me the wrong way, you know.”
“Oh, very good, very good. I must remember that.”
“He rather fancies his own game, too,” said Jack, “and he has come on the last year or two. In more ways than one,” he added as an afterthought.
As they faced each other on the court it was Stillwell's voice that rang out:
“Now then, England!”
“Canada!” cried a girl's voice that was easily recognised as that of Frances Amory.
“Thumbs down, eh, Maitland?” said the Englishman, waving a hand toward his charming enemy.
Whatever the cause, whether from the spur supplied by the young lady who had constituted herself his champion or from the sting from the man for whom for reasons sufficient for himself he had only feelings of hostility and dislike, the game put up by Captain Jack was of quite a different brand from that he had previously furnished. From the first service he took the offensive and throughout played brilliant, aggressive, even smashing tennis, so much so that his opponent appeared to be almost outclassed and at the close the figures of the first set were exactly reversed, standing six to two in Captain Jack's favour.
The warmth of the cheers that followed attested the popularity of the win.
“My word, old chap, that is top-hole tennis,” said the Englishman, warmly congratulating him.
“Luck, old boy, brilliant luck!” said Captain Jack. “Couldn't do it again for a bet.”
“You must do it just once more,” said Frances, coming to meet the players. “Oh, you dear old thing. Come and be refreshed. Here is the longest, coolest thing in drinks this Club affords. And one for you, too,” she added, turning to the Englishman. “You played a great game.”
“Did I not? I was at the top of my form,” said the Englishman gallantly. “But all in vain, as you see.”
“Now for the final,” cried Frances eagerly.
“Dear lady,” said Captain Jack, affecting supreme exhaustion, “as you are mighty, be merciful! Let it suffice that we appear to have given you an exposition of fairly respectable tennis. I am quite done.”
“A great win, Jack,” said Adrien, offering her hand in congratulation.
“All flukes count, eh, Maitland?” laughed Stillwell, unable in spite of his laugh to keep the bite out of his voice.
“Fluke?” exclaimed the Englishman in a slow drawling voice. “I call it ripping good tennis, if I am a judge.”
A murmur of approval ran through the company, crowding about with congratulations to both players.
“Oh, of course, of course,” said Stillwell, noting the criticism of his unsportsmanlike remark. “What I mean is, Maitland is clearly out of condition. If he were not I wouldn't mind taking him on myself,” he added with another laugh.
“Now, do you mean?” said Captain Jack lazily.
“We will wait till the match is played out,” said Stillwell with easy confidence. “Some other day, when you are in shape, eh?” he added, smiling at Maitland.
“Now if you like, or after the match, or any old time,” said Captain Jack, looking at Stillwell with hard grey, unsmiling eyes. “I understand you have come up on your game during the war.”
Stillwell's face burned a furious red at the little laugh that went round among Captain Jack's friends.
“Frankly, I have had enough for to-day,” said the Englishman to Jack.
“All right, old chap, if you don't really mind. Though I feel you would certainly take the odd set.”
“Not a bit of it, by Jove. I am quite satisfied to let it go at that. We will have another go some time.”
“Any time that suits you—to-morrow, eh?”
“To-morrow be it,” said the Englishman.
“Now, then, Stillwell,” said Captain Jack, with a curt nod at him. “Whenever you are ready.”
“Oh, come, Maitland. I was only joshing, you know. You don't want to play with me to-day,” said Stillwell, not relishing the look on Maitland's face. “We can have a set any time.”
“No!” said Maitland shortly. “It's now or never.”
“Oh, all right,” said Stillwell, with an uneasy laugh, going into the Club house for his racquet.
The proposed match had brought a new atmosphere into the Club house, an atmosphere of contest with all the fun left out.
“I don't like this at all,” said a man with iron grey hair and deeply tanned face.
“One can't well object, Russell,” said a younger man, evidently a friend of Stillwell's. “Maitland brought it on, and I hope he gets mighty well trimmed. He is altogether too high and mighty these days.”
“Oh, I don't agree with you at all,” broke in Frances, in a voice coldly proper. “You heard what Mr. Stillwell said?”
“Well, not exactly.”
“Ah, I might have guessed you had not,” answered the young lady, turning away.
Edwards looked foolishly round upon the circle of men who stood grinning at him.
“Now will you be good?” said a youngster who had led the laugh at Edwards' expense.
“What the devil are you laughing at, Menzies?” he asked hotly.
“Why, don't you see the joke?” enquired Menzies innocently. “Well, carry on! You will to-morrow.”
Edwards growled out an oath and took himself off.
Meantime the match was making furious progress, with