464 
THE STRAND MAGAZINE. 
The ex-champion returned the ball into 
the net. The crowd remained chivalrously 
silent. 
“ Fifteen— love,” proclaimed the umpire. 
The next service skimmed over the net, 
and twisted away from the Higginbotham’s 
left hand. It was only possible to return such 
a ball into a place where Mabel rushed in to 
receive it. She smashed it on to the back 
line, and the chalk flew. Nevertheless the 
linesman gave it “ out.” 
“ Fifteen all,” announced the umpire. 
There was a groan from the crowd who had 
just seen the chalk fly. A memorable rally 
followed. It seemed to John that the players 
had turned into machines. The ball was 
driven from back line to back line with 
astounding velocity. John put up his glasses, 
powerful binoculars. Mabel was still smiling, 
as if tennis were the best fun in the world, but 
John noticed that just as she hit the ball 
with that upward lift which distinguished her 
drive, she winced as if in pain. It never 
occurred to him that it might be physical 
pain. 
Fifteen — thirty ! 
Mab served a short one. The ex-champion 
banged it violently down the right side line. 
It was difficult to determine whether the ball 
was just in or just out 
‘‘ Fifteen — forty,” declared the umpire. 
Everybody howled with delight when 
Mabel won the. next two points. 
“ Deuce.” 
And then Luck — that diabolical factor in 
all games — took a hand in this game. Mabel 
served from the right court. The ball was 
well placed. Mrs. Higginbotham returned it 
fast and low. Mabel waited for it upon the 
back line. But it touched the top of the net 
and fell dead ! 
“ Curse it ! ” cried Bott, in an agonized 
voice. 
Mabel served again. Once more began a 
long rally, each woman standing a couple of 
yards behind the back line. And again, with 
his glasses upon his wife’s face, John noticed 
the odd little wince as Mabel drove the ball, 
the pressure of her white teeth upon her 
lower lip. 
An angry roar rose from the crowd, followed 
by shouts of applause. Luck for the last 
time favoured Mrs. Higginbotham, A fierce 
drive topped the net, and fell dead. 
The players approached each other ; and 
the vast difference between them was tre- 
mendously impressive. Mabel showed no 
signs of the battle ; the elder woman was 
haggard and gasping. Mabel held out her 
hand, smiling. Mrs. Higginbotham saw the 
fresh young face close to hers, saw the 
generous beam in the eyes, heard the generous 
words of congratulation. During her stren- 
uous life she had scorned sentiment, or any 
display of feeling in public. Always she had 
fought hard for victory, neither ashamed of 
showing keenness, nor disappointment when 
she lost. To the amazement of friends and 
enemies, the winner of the All Comers’ bent 
down and kissed Mabel. Bott shouted. Then 
he turned to the silent husband. 
“ By Jove ! old man, if the crowd could 
get at her, she would be kissed to death l ” 
V. 
The Press said that Mabel’s defeat had been 
a greater achievement than the ex-cham- 
pion’s victory. After dinner that night, when 
Mabel’s health was drunk, John made a 
short speech. 
“ I have a little present for my wife,” he 
said. “ A surprise. The country tourna- 
ments are ahead of us, and I mean to buy for 
her a motor caravan. She has chosen the 
Southern circuit, and we shall have a glorious 
time travelling leisurely from place to place.” 
“ It will be a triumphal, almost a royal, 
progress,” affirmed Bott. 
<£ I think not,” said Mabel, quietly. 
All eyes were turned upon her. She stood 
up, and those present remarked afterwards 
that she looked at nobody except her husband. 
“ I shall not play in public again.” 
The announcement, made so emphatically, 
so convincingly, aroused a storm of protest 
and interrogation. 
When silence was established, Mabel con- 
tinued : — 
“ I have a bad tennis-elbow. I showed it 
to a surgeon yesterday. He warned me that 
if I played to-day, I might never play again, 
but I did play. Please don’t pity me. In 
my opinion tennis is the grandest and jolliest 
game there is, but it is not everything in life.” 
Her voice softened oddly, and a quaver in it 
held everybody mute. “ I am going back to 
my home. I am going alone with John. We 
shall begin our real honeymoon to-morrow.” 
