to be rude."

SUNNY SLOPES

CHAPTER I

THE BEGINNING

Back and forth, back and forth, over the net, spun the little white
ball, driven by the quick, sure strokes of the players. There was no
sound save the bounding of the ball against the racquets, and the thud
of rubber soles on the hard ground. Then--a sudden twirl of a supple
wrist, and--

"Deuce!" cried the girl, triumphantly brandishing her racquet in the
air.

The man on the other side of the net laughed as he gathered up the
balls for a new serve.

Back and forth, back and forth, once more,--close to the net, away back
to the line, now to the right, now to the left,--and then--

"Ad out, I am beating you, David," warned the girl, leaping lightly
into the air to catch the ball he tossed her.

"Here is a beauty," she said, as the ball spun away from her racquet.

The two, white-clad, nimble figures flashed from side to side of the
court. He sprang into the air to meet her ball, and drove it into the
farthest corner, but she caught it with a backward gesture. Still he
was ready for it, cutting it low across the net,--yes, she was there,
she got it,--but the stroke was hard,--and the ball was light.

"Was it good?" she gasped, clasping the racquet in both hands and
tilting dangerously forward on tiptoe to look.

"Good enough,--and your game."

With one accord they ran forward to the net, pausing a second to glance
about enquiringly, and then, one impulse guiding, kissed each other
ecstatically.

"The very first time I have beaten you, David," exulted the girl.
"Isn't everything glorious?" she demanded, with all of youth's
enthusiasm.

"Just glorious," came the ready answer, with all of mature manhood's
response to girlish youth. Clasping the slender hands more tightly, he
added, laughing, "And I kiss the fingers that defeated me."

"Oh, David," the buoyant voice dropped to a reverent whisper. "I love
you,--I love you,--I--I am just crazy about you."

"Careful, Carol, remember the manse," he cautioned gaily.

"But this is honeymooning, and the manse hasn't gloomed on my horizon
yet. I'll be careful when I get installed. I am really a Methodist
yet, and Methodists are expected to shout and be enthusiastic. When we
move into our manse, and the honeymoon is ended, I'll just say, 'I am
very fond of you, Mr. Duke.'" The voice lengthened into prim and prosy
solemnity.

"But our honeymoon isn't to end. Didn't we promise that it s