ugh we did once get into the third
round owing to one of our opponents, a doctor, being summoned to a case
in the middle of play.

Now this year we both thought our tennis would be over for the day after
the first quarter of an hour, as we were drawn to play our first round
against Wilbrooke and Pattie. However, I won the toss, and to that fact
the subsequent _impasse_ may be attributed. I elected to serve first,
leaving Wilbrooke the choice of sides. The sun was not shining, so there
was little in it from the point of view of light; but the east end of
the court is just a trifle higher than the other, so he chose that.

I served first, and though I never peg them in to rabbits, I felt
justified in sending down a medium-paced ball in my partner's interests.
It pitched correctly, broke (unintentionally) and buried itself in
Pattie's skirt.

Fifteen-love.

I banged my first ball to Wilbrooke with all my might. It fell within
the Club precincts, but that's the best I can urge for it. My second was
an easy lob, which he smashed, and, in spite of my efforts to give it a
clear path, it caught me in the small of the back.

Fifteen-all.

My next serve to Pattie was a fault, which I followed up with an
ordinary "donkey" drop, towards which she rushed in the impetuous
fashion characteristic of the genuine rabbit, with the result that it
bounced scathless over her head.

Thirty-fifteen.

I then got a fast ball over to Wilbrooke, but returning it was child's
play to him, and he drove it like lightning down the centre-line before
I had time to call "Leave it to you, partner."

Thirty-all.

Again I served Pattie a fault. At the second attempt the ball performed
Blondin tricks on the wire of the net, and for one of those "moments big
as years" I feared we had lost the game, the service to Wilbrooke being
a mere formality; but fortunately the ball fell the other side of the
net, and my third delivery Pattie tipped to the wicket-keeper.

Forty-thirty.

I now determined to send two--if necessary--fast ones to Wilbrooke on
the chance that one might shoot and be unplayable. But my first ball
went into the net, and the _locale_ of the second can only be dimly
surmised, for it went over the fence into the open country.

Deuce.

It was at this point that I began to realize that so long as I did not
serve a double-fault to Pattie, Wilbrooke could never win the game, and
when we had played nine more deuces I communicated the