Perry, Nora / 2008-11-22 00:00:00
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.
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