A Flock of Girls and Boys | Page 6

course she doesn't, only plainly dressed."
"Yes, that's all;" and Tom gave a little odd chuckling laugh.
"How queer Tom Raymond is!" thought Tilly. She thought he was
queerer still, as she caught his furtive glances toward that Smith girl.
Presently Miss Tilly saw that the Smith girl was regarding Tom with
rather a puzzled observation.
"I see how it is," reflected Miss Tilly; "they have met before
somewhere, and Tom doesn't want to know her now. He thinks she isn't
fine enough for this Boston set, though he owns that she doesn't look
common. Oh, I do believe that Will Wentworth is the only one here
who has any sense or heart."

As Tilly arrived at this conclusion of her reflections, Will came running
up to her.
"Come," he said, "there's no fun here. Let's go and have a game of
tennis."
"But where's Agnes? I thought you wanted to see what she was doing."
"She's gone off in a huff because I asked her if she'd bought any
baskets," answered Will, grinning. Tilly laughed, and Tom Raymond
gave another odd little chuckle. Then the three strolled away to the
tennis ground. As they were passing the rustic bench under the tree
where Mrs. Smith and her niece were sitting, Tilly took a sudden
resolution, and, stopping abruptly, said,--
"We're going to have a game of tennis; won't you join us, Miss--Miss
Smith?"
The girl looked up with a smile, hesitated a moment, and then accepted
the invitation. Will, nodding to Tilly a surprised and pleased approval
of her action, started off ahead of the others to see if the tennis ground
was occupied. As he turned the corner, he met Dora Robson with a
racket in her hand.
"Oh," she cried, "here you are! I was just coming after you, for Amy
and I have got to go in,--mamma has sent for us, and Agnes was so
disappointed,--now it's all right, for there's Tilly, and--what luck--Tom
Raymond; he's such a splendid player, and you can--" But Dora
stopped, open-mouthed and wide-eyed. Who--who was that behind
Tilly?
CHAPTER III.
As Agnes, standing waiting upon the tennis-ground where Dora had
left her, suddenly caught sight of Tom Raymond, her heart gave a little
throb of exultation. Tom Raymond was the best tennis-player she knew.
To have him for her partner would be delightful, and she went forward
with the most gracious welcome to him. So absorbed was she, so

pleased at Tom's appearance, at his polite response to her, she did not
observe Miss Smith,--did not see Tilly draw back, did not hear her say,
"No, I don't care to play, Miss Smith, I want you to play with Will; this
is my friend Will Wentworth, Miss Smith," by way of introduction.
No; Agnes saw and heard nothing of all this, or of Will's polite
arrangements with the newcomer. She saw nothing, she thought of
nothing, but that her own little arrangement to have Tom for a partner
was successful; and so, blithely and triumphantly, she took her place
and lifted her racket. Whizz! she sent the ball flying over the netting,
and whizz! it came flying back again, to be returned by Tom
Raymond's vigorous stroke. Agnes regarded this stroke with due
admiration. "Neither Will nor Tilly can match that," she thought; and at
the thought she looked over and across the netting, to see a girl's
uplifted arm swinging easily forward, the racket hitting the ball lightly
with a swift, sure, upward, and onward motion. Where had Tilly
learned to strike out like that, all at once? Tilly! The uplifted arm that
had partially hidden the player's face was lowered. What--what--it was
not Tilly, but--but--that girl! How did she come there? A glance at
Will's face drawn up into a most exasperating grin, at Will's eyes
darting forth gleams of fun, was enough for Agnes.
Yes, this was Will Wentworth's doing,--this hateful plot to humiliate
her and triumph over her. Stung by this thought, she lost sight for that
moment of everything else, and the ball sent so surely back to her
dropped to the ground before her partner could rescue it. An
exclamation of disappointment from Tom added to her discomfiture;
and when Will, the next instant, cried, "Wait a minute, till I get another
racket, Miss Smith has broken hers," Agnes, flinging down her own,
exclaimed,--
"Miss Smith can have my racket; I'm not going to play any longer!"
"Not going to play? What do you mean?" shouted Will.
"I mean that I am not used to a surprise-party and to playing with
strangers," was the rude and angry answer.

"You--you ought to--" But Will controlled himself and stopped. He was
about to say, "You ought to be ashamed of yourself."
Agnes, however, understood by the tone of his