hour, for Amy was busy with the Fall Tennis Tournament
Clint didn’t see a great deal of Amy those days except during study
hour, for Amy was busy with the Fall Tennis Tournament. Besides playing
in it he was managing it, and managing it entailed much visiting in the
evenings, for the tournament insisted on getting horribly mixed up every
afternoon owing to the failure of fellows to play when they were
supposed to, and it was one of Amy’s duties to hunt up the offenders and
threaten them with all sorts of awful fates if they didn’t arise at some
unseemly hour the next morning and play off the postponed match before
Chapel. Clint went over to the courts one afternoon before practice in
the hope of seeing his room-mate perform. But Amy was dashing around
with a score-sheet in hand and the matches in progress were
not exciting.

“They’re two against one!” cried Dreer shrilly. “I didn’t do a thing to
them! He–he knocked me down, and cut my face, and–”

“Oh, I see,” said Clint. “Too bad. Will it hurt it much?”

“Wonder what’s inside,” said Clint in a low voice.

“I reckon you’re a big hit at those parties,” said Clint. “When it comes
to telling stories–”

Innes knew I played, Amy?”

The three boys started. A few yards away, leaning on his cane, stood a
tall man of twenty-three or four years, a mildly surprised expression on
his good-looking face.

Clint laughed. “They didn’t try 14 Torrence, then, did they?” he
inquired. Amy smiled noncommittingly.

football and stayed there until the gathering broke up
After that the conversation got around to the absorbing subject of
football and stayed there until the gathering broke up. There was some
discussion of yesterday’s contest, but more of the next Saturday’s game
with Morgan’s School. Morgan’s was a new opponent on Brimfield’s
schedule and not a great deal was known about its prowess. Black
thought, or pretended to think, that the Maroon-and-Grey was in for a
beating, but couldn’t give any very convincing reasons.