“I don’t know what they think they’re doing,” exclaimed Edward discontentedly. “Oh, rotten shot!” as Barbara failed to hit. “Your own wasn’t so splendid!” Barbara replied. “Good, Balmer!” squealed Ann. “Now he’ll come down and get the hoop. No――he’s bringing me down! He’ll knock the others away, and then I’ll get the hoop next time.... There goes Edward.... Good-bye, Edward.... Good-bye, Barbara.” “I think you’d better give them four bisques,” said the canon, turning back to the house. The game, which had been far from silent before, immediately relapsed, so far as Edward and Barbara were concerned, into a perpetual argument about who should take the bisques and when, interspersed with erratic shots that produced expressions of commiseration from Ann. She and Palmer were getting on swimmingly, but Edward’s face was like a thundercloud. “We ought to have a bigger handicap. Barbara’s rotten; she’s not as good as Ann.” “I’m better than Ann,” said Barbara, coldly. “You’re not; you’re worse. Ann does what her partner tells her.” “You forget that Ann’s partner knows how to play.” Edward took aim and missed a ball a couple of yards away. “Damn.” “Edward, if you say that again, I’ll tell Aunt Caroline.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You did.” “I said ‘dash.’” “It wasn’t ‘dash.’” “Oh, Balmer, I’m so sorry!” cried Ann penitently, as her ball, with the mallet firmly adhering to it, jammed tight against the wire of the hoop. “It doesn’t matter. I’m afraid it would have been a foul anyway. You’re not allowed to push, you know.” “But you can’t get through from the side that way unless you _do_ push――a little.” “Here, I’m going to play again,” cried Edward. “Why should _you_ play? You missed the last time, and it was closer than it is now.” “I’m captain of the side and the captain settles who’s to play. I only missed because you put me off.” “You’re not captain, and it’s my turn.” “There’s no turns in it, silly. The same ball can go on playing all the time.” “Well, then, I’ll go on playing. Besides, I’m wired, and can go into baulk.” “Referee!” shouted Jim, rushing on to the ground. Edward caught him by the arm. “Here, you clear out.” “I’m referee,” gasped Jim, struggling to free himself. “Amn’t I, Palmer?... Now;――Palmer says I am!” He lay down on his stomach on the grass, and examined the balls at considerable length. “You’re _not_ wired, Barbara,” he decided. Everybody gathered round to offer an opinion. “Hang it all, there’s Pouncer running away with the blue ball! What a mouth! How on earth did he――――” There was a wild chase, and Pouncer, still with the ball, disappeared into the shrubbery.