The signal of release came at last, and Jim flew into the hall for a hat, while grandpapa mixed up the little folded slips of paper. Then, the centre of an eager circle, Jim drew out the first name. “Edward,” he read aloud, diving his hand in for the next. He unfolded it excitedly. “Barbara.” “Oh, I say!” growled Edward. “I think we’d better choose our partners.” Barbara glared at him. “In that case I certainly shan’t choose you.” “There must be no grumbling,” said Aunt Caroline quickly. “Those who don’t wish to play can scratch; or if you like we needn’t have a tournament at all.” “Edward, you’re awful!” murmured Ann. Edward apologized, and the ballot continued. The next name to appear was Ann’s own. “Oh!” she whispered; “I _hope_ it will be Balmer!” Palmer it was, and the canon might almost have been suspected of wizardry, for Jim and he were drawn as partners, Grif and Aunt Caroline, Miss Johnson and Mr. Drummond. “Matches to be played in the afternoon,” said Aunt Caroline,――“for grown-ups, at any rate. The only handicaps need be that grandpapa and Jim give eight bisques, and Grif and I will give five.” “Shall we do that, partner?” grandpapa inquired. “Yes, yes. What are they?” “It means we give them eight extra turns.” “Oh!” Jim’s face grew grave. But the implied superiority was seductive, and he yielded. “We might play our match off now, Dorset?” Edward proposed. “If you like.” There was a rush for mallets and balls, in which Ann, as usual, was left in the rear. “Balmer, don’t let them take the little mallet,” she squealed, “the one with the string round it. I want it.” “I think you’d better go and see that they start properly, papa,” said Aunt Caroline. “Remember,” she called out, “if there’s any squabbling neither side gets a point.” Out of doors, the smooth sunlit lawn looked very attractive, and when the clips were put on the first hoop, and the balls were gathered behind the starting-peg, Jim was assailed by a passionate longing for the afternoon. The fact that he was to act as referee only partially consoled him. “You shout!” cried Edward, tossing up a coin. “Tails!... Good man! Will you go first, partner?” “No, you.... Oh, Balmer! _what_ are you doing?” For Ann’s partner had hit the blue ball straight up the ground and off the top boundary. “He’s all right,” said grandpapa. “You seem to understand the game, Palmer.” “My pater is rather keen on it,” Palmer admitted, “and I play a bit when I’m at home.” “You ought to have said that sooner,” grumbled Edward. “You should be giving us a handicap.” He tried for the first hoop and missed it. Palmer looked inquiringly at Canon Annesley. “Perhaps you’d better give them something. I’ll wait and see you take a turn.” “Shall I try for the hoop, too, Balmer?” Ann called out. “No; come up to me.” Ann made a valiant attempt, landing some three yards from her partner’s ball.