There was quite a crowd to see the first game, between Kitty and Frances. By mutual consent it had been agreed that both matches should consist of twelve games, unless there was a tie, when a decider should be played. Vanda West, head prefect of Prince's, and the school tennis captain, was umpiring. The result was a foregone conclusion after the first two games. France played with elegance and style, and showed an astonishing fleetness of foot, but her strokes lacked force. She put up a gallant fight to the end, but she was helpless against Kitty's lightning movements, smashing strokes and accurate placing. She only succeeded in winning one game out of twelve, a fact which did not seem to trouble her in the least, for she smiled happily as she congratulated the winner, then hurried off to her organ practice. The next day, Vanda, as she joined the waiting group by the court, said to Kitty, half jokingly, half earnestly: "Play up, my child. I've got one or two empty places to fill in the school tennis eight, and Carslake's will have to supply me with somebody to fill one of them. You've a chance to get your tennis colour, like everyone else, you know." Kitty's second match was a far harder struggle. Duane, who was a picture of elegance in her short white tennis frock and scarlet "colour," played with considerable skill, some of her strokes being extremely powerful, particularly her service. The spectators were kept interested, for Kitty's game--especially her volleying--was really spectacular. In spite of her ability to retrieve nearly everything Duane sent over the net, the first six games were ding-dong ones, each player winning her service. Duane, not so quick and dashing as Kitty, at first held her own, returning Kitty's deliveries by good anticipation and a wonderful reach. Then Kitty seemed to be playing on the very top of her form and gradually drew ahead. In the end her amazing vigour and lightning quickness gained the upper hand, and she finished the victor by seven games to five. "Well played, Kitty," said Vanda appreciatively. Duane donned her blazer and sauntered across to the winner. Kitty was hot and panting and flushed; Duane showed no signs of exertion, save that she was breathing more deeply than usual. "Good game, Kitty, wasn't it!" she said, in her emotionless way. "You're a fine player. Can't think how you can fly about the court at the rate you do, though." "Oh, I like plenty of exercise," returned Kitty, feeling a little shy and embarrassed at the congratulations showered upon her from all sides. She made her escape from the field as quickly as possible, while the spectators gradually drifted back to their own quarters, still discussing the match and the outstanding points of the play. CHAPTER III THE P. SQUAREDS