Evening star., 1927-05-29

contempla ted the spectacle. Somepody
always laughs when a big man falls
down. Somebody in the gallery
laughed now. shrill. high, hysterical
giggle. Whereupon the whole gal.
lery roarC | with laughter Reginald
turned. walked stiflly back to his own
baseline.
THE Count looked down at his own
l. immaculate flannels. glanced at
Reginald, shook his head more sadly
than before. The eyes of the 5000
were on him now, waiting to see
what he would do next. They saw
that he took Reginald's fall seriously
oh, very seriously indeed! 1t troubled
him, that fall: he was visibly wonder
ing what ought to be done about it.
The Count tried the slipperiness OF
the turf with delicately experimental
foot. as people try the slipperiness of
ice. His foot slipped. 1t slipped so
easily that he almost fell. With comic
haste. the Count sat down. He sat
down in the middle of his court and
began to take off his shoes. the SIX
thousand laughed.
Reginald reached his baseline and
turned round, ready to serve. For the
first time. he saw what the Count was
I'D to. Reginald swore. He was ready
to go. The game stood at 30-lo. lie
needed only two more points to WIN
the game, the set and the match. lie
was serving even better than ne hao
earlier in the day. He wanted 10 serve
two more aces and be through. lie
didn't dare stop playing, even for haif
a minute. He yelled at the Count.
The crowd laughed at his impatience.
The Count took off his shoes and his
socks with deliberation. Reginald
walked back and forth along his base
line like a stag at bay. The Count
waved to a ball boy. The boy came
running out. The Count handed HIM
the shoes and the socks. Then he
stood I'D and tried the slipperineSs OF
the turf with first one bare foot and
then the other. The result was salts
factory. He reached down and rolled
his trousers halfway up his calves
and gave them a twist to hold them
there. With his head cooked on one
side, he surveyed the effect. He
looked like a sailor about to swap a
deck. He seemed to like that. Regl-
nald yelled at him again. The Count
picked up his racket, bowed to the
5000 and skipped-skipped like a girl
skipping rope-back to his place.
Reginald served with everything he
had. The ball shot like bullet about
Is yards out of court. Somebody in
the grandstand laughed again, that
high, hysterical giggle.
Reginald lost the little temper he
had left. He was too mad to make sure
of getting his service in. He whaled
the ball. 1t struck the top-band of
the net with such force that it
caromed into the marquee. The game
stood at 30-all.
Reginald shut his teeth and served
another double fault. The game stood
at 800. Reginald's next service was
in. but the Count passed him at the
net and took the game. The fifth
set stood at 2-5.
"Now he'll run out the Set" said
Johnny Wicket.
And he did. The count took five
games in a row from the hopelessly
furious Reginald, and won the match.
thousand, to think.
Johnny WICKETT walked glumly
back to the clubhouse with Mu-
rie1 Davis. He had the quaint notion
that If he could put over something
really worth while Muriel Davis
would fall for him. The truth was,
of course, that If he put over some
thing that seemed to him really worth
while, he would, for the moment, lose
that excess of humility that prevented
him from telling Muriel Davis that
she was his.
He had come out Of the Middle
West that Spring, as dark horse as
ever came home in front. He had up.
set one ranking player after another.
And now he was to play the count
in the finals for the Brightwaters
Bowl. The obvious way to impress
Muriel was to beat the count.
"Gosh," Johnny said, half to him.
self.
Gosh what?" asked MurieI.
"I was just thinking about tomor-
row and wondering what I'd do II he
pulled a stunt like that on me.
THE. thing for you to do is just to
pay no attention. Let him have his
laugh and then slam him.
"Id like to turn the laugh on him."
Muriel shook her head.
'It isn't your game, Johnny. He's
born comedian, and you aren't. You
let him take the laughs; you take the
points. If you try to beat him at his
own game, he'll have you cuckoo"
''I'd like to beat him at his own
game" Johnny insisted. It's time
somebody did it,"
''Yes." Murier admitted, ''it is time