mal kingdom?"

"No," persisted Arnold. "Now I've thought of it, I _mean_ fish, a
great big, wise old fellow, who lives in a deep pool and won't rise to
any ordinary fly." He made a brain-jolting change of metaphor and went
on: "The plain truth, and it's not so low-down as it seems, is that a
big fat check-book is admission to the grandstand with Felix. It _has_
to be that way! He hasn't got much of his own, and his tastes are
some--"

"Molly must be sitting in the front row, then," commented Sylvia
indifferently, as though tired of the subject. They were now at the
tennis-court. "Run over to the summer-house and get my racquet, will
you? It's on the bench."

"Yes, Molly's got plenty of _money_," Arnold admitted as he came
back, his accent implying some other lack which he forgot to mention,
absorbed as he at once became in coping with his adversary's strong,
swift serve.

The change in him, as he began seriously to play, was startling,
miraculous. His slack loose-jointedness stiffened into quick,
flexible accuracy, his lounging, flaccid air disappeared in a glow
of concentrated vigorous effort. The bored good-nature in his eyes
vanished, burned out by a stern, purposeful intensity. He was
literally and visibly another person. Sylvia played her best, which
was excellent, far better than that of any other girl in the summer
colony. She had been well trained by her father and her gymnasium
instructor, and played with an economy of effort delightful to see;
but she was soon driven by her opponent's tiger-like quickness into
putting out at once her every resource. There, in the slowly fading
light of the long mountain afternoon, the two young Anglo-Saxons
poured out their souls in a game with the immemorial instinct of their
race, fierce, grim, intent, every capacity of body and will-power
brought into play, everything else in the world forgotten....

For some time they were on almost equal terms, and then Sylvia became
aware that her adversary was getting the upper hand of her. She had,
however, no idea what the effort was costing him, until after a
blazing fire of impossibly rapid volleys under which she went down
to defeat, she stopped, called out, "Game _and_ set!" and added in a
generous tribute, "Say, you can _play_!" Then she saw that his face
was almost purple, his eyes bloodshot, and his breath came in short,
gasping pants. "Good gracious, what's the matter!" she cried, running
towards him in alarm. She was d