p, I'm boning
down like thunder at the office--I'm horribly in debt and I'm hustling
to pay up and make a clean start. You," he added, colouring, "will come
first--"

"At your convenience," said Selwyn, smiling.

"Not at all! Yours is the first account to be squared; then Neergard--"

"Do you owe _him_, Gerald?"

"Do I? Oh, Lord! But he's a patient soul--really, Philip, I wish you
didn't dislike him so thoroughly, because he's good company and besides
that he's a very able man. . . . Well, we won't talk about him, then.
Come on; I'll lick the very life out of you over the net!"

A few moments later the white balls were flying over the white net, and
active white-flannelled figures were moving swiftly over the velvet
turf.

Drina, aloft on the umpire's perch, calmly scored and decided each point
impartially, though her little heart was beating fast in desire for her
idol's supremacy; and it was all her official composure could endure to
see how Eileen at the net beat down his defence, driving him with her
volleys to the service line.

Selwyn's game proved to be steady, old-fashioned, but logical; Eileen,
sleeves at her elbows, red-gold hair in splendid disorder, carried the
game through Boots straight at her brother--and the contest was really a
brilliant duel between them, Lansing and Selwyn assisting when a rare
chance came their way. The pace was too fast for them, however; they
were in a different class and they knew it; and after two terrific sets
had gone against Gerald and Boots, the latter, signalling Selwyn,
dropped out and climbed up beside Drina to watch a furious single
between Eileen and Gerald.

"Oh, Boots, Boots!" said Drina, "why _didn't_ you stay forward and kill
her drives and make her lob? I just know you could do it if you had only
thought to play forward! What on earth was the matter?"

"Age," said Mr. Lansing serenely--"decrepitude, Drina. I am a Was,
sweetheart, but Eileen still remains an Is."

"I won't let you say it! You are _not_ a Was!" said the child fiercely.
"After luncheon you can take me on for practice. Then you can just give
it to her!"

"It would gratify me to hand a few swift ones to somebody," he said.
"Look at that demon girl, yonder! She's hammering Gerald to the service
line! Oh, my, oh, me! I'm only fit for hat-ball with Billy or
cat's-cradle with Kit-Ki. Drina, do you realise that I am nearly
thirty?"

"Pooh! I'm past thirteen. In five years I'll be eighteen. I e