It had been late afternoon when they returned. Nearly an hour drifted by. That coolness, which announces the approach of dusk, set in. “Well,” Maida said at last, breathing a long relieved sigh, “I’ve got rid of my temper. If I hadn’t taken a book when I did, I’m sure I’d have burst into pieces. If everybody has read all he wants to, let’s try the tennis court.” They tried the tennis court (although only Maida and the two Lathrops played tennis) but to such good effect and with so great a fascination that they returned to it after supper. Arthur, as was to be expected with his coolness and game sense, progressed rapidly under Harold’s instructions. The others found it the most difficult thing they had ever attempted. They were hot and tired when finally approaching dark made it impossible for them to see the balls. They adjourned to the Tree Room where, in hammock and chairs, they talked and talked. Gradually the talk grew desultory; sank to an occasional silence. “I was rummaging about in the barn early this morning,” Arthur said out of the reflective quiet in which he had long been immersed, “and I found all kinds of things in a big chest--base-balls and bats; foot-ball stuff and boxing gloves. Do you know how to box, Harold?” “No,” Harold replied, “never tried it.” “Want to learn?” Arthur inquired. “I’ll teach you. I’d like the practice.” “Sure,” Harold said. “When will we begin?” “To-morrow,” Arthur responded. “What do you want to practice boxing for, Arthur?” Rosie asked curiously. “Oh I thought I might need it sometime,” Arthur answered evasively. He smiled into the dark. “Say!” Rosie burst out suddenly, “did anybody besides me get sun-burned to-day?” “Well, I didn’t mention it,” Laura answered sleepily, “but I feel as if my face were on fire.” “Oh! Oh!” Maida exclaimed contritely. “I forgot to warn you to be sure to wear hats this first day or two. Are you burnt, Arthur?” “To a cinder,” Arthur declared, “but I’ve been burnt before. I don’t mind it so very much.” “And you Dicky?” Maida went on. Dicky’s answer was a grimace. “And Harold?” Maida continued in a despairing voice. “I shall be one big blister to-morrow,” Harold prophesied grimly. “Oh my goodness!” wailed Maida futilely. “It’s all my fault. Well it’s half-past eight,” she added after a pause. “According to rules we can sit up until nine, but I’m going to bed now. I never was so tired in all my life.” “I’m falling asleep where I am,” Rosie admitted, “and as for Laura, she _is_ asleep.” This was the first day at the Little House. CHAPTER IX PLANS