“Go on, Thatcher,” said Black, with a nod, “if any of these gentlemen object to any decision, we will discuss it with them. That’s what we’re here for.” Two of the Big Four seated themselves at the feet of the Hilltown umpire, and looked wistfully up at him whenever he made a close decision. It was remarkable how his eyesight was improved by their presence. The Malvern boys beamed with confidence again. The second set went to them, 6-4. Grace was so delighted that he excitedly stamped his bad foot on the turf, and then howled with pain. The last set was “for blood,”--as one of the four collegians said. The Slades overcame their first surprise, and settled down to fight for every point. The Malvernites gave them all the fight they wanted. One by one the games fell now on one side, now on the other side of the net. And when it came five games all, the disgust and disappointment of the crowd showed itself in shouts and cheers for their champions and hoots for their young opponents. But all the cheering and hooting could not change the result. “Set and game! Malvern wins!” shouted Thatcher, and then, forgetting his late judicial impartiality, threw his arms around Merton’s neck and yelled. The silence of the Hilltown people was so impressive that the wild yell of the college contingent sounded like a whole battery of skyrockets instead of only four, and Grace sat down on the court and pounded the ground with his crutches. “That’s enough for me,” he cried; “I don’t care for the singles. I know when I’ve had enough! I’d have two sprained ankles to do it over again!” Then the Slades announced that the singles would begin immediately after luncheon. The Malvern contingent went to the hotel to find something to eat, and Blair slipped away to telegraph to Malvern. Five minutes later the operator at that place jumped as if he had received a shock from his own battery, and ran out into the street shouting, “Malvern’s won the doubles, three straight sets!” Judge Prior’s coachman, who was waiting at the station for an express package, turned his horse and galloped back up Malvern’s only street, shouting out: “We’ve won. Master John and Mr. Merton’s won the tennis match.” And then the people set to work to prepare a demonstration. The Hilltown people thought they had never seen young men so disagreeable as were the Big Four after luncheon. They seated themselves like sentinels at the four corners of the court, and whenever any one ventured to jeer at Malvern’s representative they would burst into such an enthusiasm of cheering as to drown the jeers and deafen the spectators.