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THE STRAND MAGAZINE . 
him. because the fellow was so keen, such 
an uphill player, so cheery when off his 
game. 
Poor John nodded gloomily. He had 
inherited some very beautiful silver — por- 
ringers, salvers, tankards, and the like — 
which gleamed with mellow splendour upon 
a Queen Anne dresser in the dining-room. 
Mrs. Simpson had praised the dresser. 
“ It’s rather nice,” John admitted, 
modestly. 
tl But, John, dear, how splendid Mabel’s 
pots will look on it ! ” 
Mabel’s pots ! There were dozens of them, 
culled from every silversmith in the Metro- 
politan area. 
“ Some people,” continued Mrs. Simpson, 
severely, “ sell their pots and their jewellery. 
Dear Mab has never degraded herself by doing 
that. Take Tom Slagg- ” 
“ If you'll excuse me, I’d rather not,” 
murmured John. “ Enough is as good as a 
feast.” 
“ Tom Slagg sells everything. He keeps 
a sort of jeweller’s shop. I call him a * pro.’ 
I am so proud of Mabel’s trophies ! ” 
They were spread upon that ancient dresser. 
They remained there. The eyes of dead-and- 
gone Armitages glared down upon silver and 
silver-gilt with ever-deepening reproach and 
derision. John was sensible of their dis- 
approval. He shared it, but what could he 
say ? What could he do ? He did the one 
thing possible and decent. lie locked up the 
tankards and porringers. 
It was Bott who suggested the propriety 
of inviting Windlesham and Mrs, Pragson to 
spend three weeks in Dorset. 
“ I must practise with Mabel,” he said. 
“ You know Windlesham ; and Mrs. Pragson 
is a corker. Forty-five — T give you my word 
— and still the most formidable woman in 
England — bar two.” 
John would have barred them all except 
Mabel, but he said not a word. 
Mrs. Pragson arrived with many racquets. 
She was short, squat, black-a vised, with a 
complexion that matched the Queen Anne 
dresser. Windlesham accompanied her, the 
ex-champion of the world. Photographs of 
the new court and the old players appeared in 
half-a-dozen papers. John read many para- 
graphs as follows : — 
“ Armitage Court is now the centre of the 
liveliest interest. The ancient manor has 
never, if we may say so, sheltered at one time 
so many distinguished persons.” 
In the solitude of his own den John said : — 
“ Confound it ! ” 
III. 
Ti:e gallant fellow tried to play the game 
under his wife’s tutelage. lie practised 
assiduously against the back- wall ; he studied 
tactics. In a single Mabel could give him 
fifteen and owe forty ! She liked to play with 
him, but Windlesham sternly forbade such 
altruism. John agreed. Nothing must im- 
peril Mabel’s chances for the championship. 
Occasionally he strayed into the nurseries 
and glanced at his old toys. He busied him- 
self with the management of his small estate, 
and attended parochial and county councils. 
His brother magistrates welcomed him on the 
bench. 
During the pleasant weeks which preceded 
the Great Event John made only one blunder. 
In a reactionary moment he invited Toomer 
to spend a week-end with the celebrities. 
Toomer had been John’s school-fellow and 
contemporary at Winchester, and after- 
wards the two men had been fellow-under- 
graduates at New. If Etonians, as a rule, are 
pleasure-loving, while Harrovians are strenu- 
ous, so also, without offence, one may describe 
Wykehamists as philosophical. John was a 
fair type of Wvkeham’s sons, ile had easy 
manners, much general knowledge, a sense 
of humour, and a disposition to travel agree- 
ably along the lines of least resistance. 
Toomer was his antithesis. Toomer won 
scholarships. Toomer took a high degree. 
By this time lie was well known as a capable 
and rising man of letters, but admittedly a 
crank. 
Toomer loathed what he called ball-games. 
That, possibly, may have been in John’s 
mind when he invited him to Armitage Court. 
Had John been more candid, Toomer might 
have declined the invitation. 
Driving up from the station, which was a 
comfortable four miles away, John said, 
carelessly : — 
“ By the way, the house is chock-a-block 
with tennis sharps.” 
“ Tennis sharps ! ” repeated Toomer. 
“ Bott, Mrs. Pragson, Windlesham.” 
“ Never heard of ’em,” said Toomer. 
To John’s immense surprise, he felt a certain 
irritation. 
“ You must have heard of Windlesham. 
Hang it ! He was open lawn-tennis champion 
for three or four years in succession.” 
“ Was he ? Poor devil ! What does he 
do now ? An ex-champion is a pitiable 
object.” 
John considered the question, llis face 
brightened. 
u The truth is, old man, that Windlesham 
