stared silently now at the players, then round at Pontifex,
and wondered what on earth he found to interest him in a miserable show
like this. For our heroes mulled everything. Two faults were not
enough for them; the holes in their rackets were legion, and their legs
never went the way they wanted. The Den blushed as it looked on and
heard Ponty call, game after game, "Love--forty."

Of course the two wretched boys were scared--Ponty knew that well
enough--but so were Cazenove and Wade. And yet Cazenove and Wade
managed to keep their wind and get over their net, and no one could say
they had less to be scared at than their opponents.

At length the doleful spectacle was over. "One--six" was the score in
games.

"You must be proud of your one game," said Ponty, strolling off.

Our heroes watched him go, and felt they were hard hit. It was no use
pretending not to understand the captain's meaning, or not to notice the
still lingering blushes of the spectators on their account.

So they withdrew sadly from the field of battle, chastened in spirit,
yet not without a dawning ambition to make Ponty change his mind
concerning them before the term was quite run out.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

HOW DICK HAS ONE LATIN EXERCISE MORE THAN HE BARGAINED FOR.

Dick did not often feel ashamed of himself. He had a knack of keeping
his head above water, even in reverses, which usually stood him in good
stead. But after that mournful scratch match with Cazenove and Wade, he
certainly did feel ashamed.

And, be it said to the credit of his honesty, that he blamed the right
offender. Ponty had been rough on him, but it wasn't Ponty's fault.
Cazenove and Wade had knocked him and his chum into a cocked hat, but it
wasn't Cazenove's or Wade's fault. Heathcote had mulled his game
dreadfully, and done nothing to save the match, but it wasn't
Heathcote's fault. Basil the son of Richard was the guilty man, and
Basil the son of Richard kicked himself and called himself a fool.

Not publicly, though. In the Den, despite the blushes his tennis had
caused, he did his best to keep up his swagger and restore confidence by
a few acts of special audacity; and the Den was forgiving on the whole.
They did feel sore for a day, and showed it; but gradually they came
back to their allegiance, and made excuses for their hero of their own
accord.

If truth must be told, Dick was far more concerned as to the possible
effect of his public hu