The clergyman insisted on carrying Clara’s racquet.  “You are looking very well,” he said, somewhat timidly, but with admiring eyes.  “But perhaps you don’t feel as much like playing as you look.”

“Oh yes, I do indeed,” replied Clara, inwardly resenting the solicitude in his tone.

They set out, and the clergyman appeared to shake his mind free of a preoccupation.

“I hope all the boys will be around,” he said, with something of anxiety.  “They need the exercise.  All young, active fellows ought to have it.  I spoke to Mr. Goodloe and Mr. Sharp and urged them to let Tom and Fred Martin off this afternoon.  I think they will do it.  Ralph Carpenter, I’m afraid, can’t get away from the freight-office, but I am in hopes that Mr. Stiggins can take his place.  Did you know that Mrs. Thompson has promised to donate some lemonade?”

“That’s very nice,” said Clara.  “It’s a lovely day for the match.”  She was thinking, “What short steps he takes!”

After some silent walking the clergyman said:  “I don’t believe you know, Miss Leeds, how much I appreciate your taking part in these tennis matches.  Somehow I feel that it is asking a great deal of you, for I know that you have—­er—­so many interests of your own—­that is, you are different in many ways from most of our people.  I want you to know that I am grateful for the influence—­your cooperation, you know—­”

“Please, Mr. Copple, don’t mention it,” said Clara, hurriedly.  “I haven’t so many interests as you imagine, and I am not any different from the rest of the people.  Not at all.”  If there was any hardness in the girl’s tone the clergyman did not appear to notice it.  They had reached their destination.

The tennis-court was on the main street just beyond the end of the business section.  It was laid out on a vacant lot between two brick houses.  A wooden sign to one side of the court announced, “First ——­ Church Tennis Club.”  When Clara and Mr. Copple arrived at the court there were a number of young people gathered in the lot.  Most of them had tennis-racquets, those of the girls being decorated with bows of yellow, black, and lavender ribbon.  Mr. Copple shook hands with everybody, and ran over the court several times, testing the consistency of the earth.

“Everything is capital!” he cried.

Clara Leeds bowed to the others, shaking hands with only one or two.  They appeared to be afraid of her.  The finals in the men’s singles were between Mr. Copple and Elbert Dunklethorn, who was called “Ellie.”  He wore a very high collar, and as his shoes had heels, he ran about the court on his toes.

Clara, watching him, recalled her father’s words at dinner.  “How will this save that boy from sin’s pathway?” she thought.  She regarded the clergyman; she recognized his zeal.  But why, why must she be a part of this—­what was it?—­this system of saving people and this kind of people?  If she could only go and be good to poor and unfortunate people whom she wouldn’t have to know.  Clara glanced toward the street.  “I hope they won’t come past,” she said to herself.