He proposed an informal exhibition match to advertise the association; he suggested that Carol and himself, the Haydocks, the Woodfords, and the Dillons play doubles, and that the association be formed from the gathered enthusiasts.  He had asked Harry Haydock to be tentative president.  Harry, he reported, had promised, “All right.  You bet.  But you go ahead and arrange things, and I’ll O.K. ’em.”  Erik planned that the match should be held Saturday afternoon, on the old public court at the edge of town.  He was happy in being, for the first time, part of Gopher Prairie.

Through the week Carol heard how select an attendance there was to be.

Kennicott growled that he didn’t care to go.

Had he any objections to her playing with Erik?

No; sure not; she needed the exercise.  Carol went to the match early.  The court was in a meadow out on the New Antonia road.  Only Erik was there.  He was dashing about with a rake, trying to make the court somewhat less like a plowed field.  He admitted that he had stage fright at the thought of the coming horde.  Willis and Mrs. Woodford arrived, Willis in home-made knickers and black sneakers through at the toe; then Dr. and Mrs. Harvey Dillon, people as harmless and grateful as the Woodfords.

Carol was embarrassed and excessively agreeable, like the bishop’s lady trying not to feel out of place at a Baptist bazaar.

They waited.

The match was scheduled for three.  As spectators there assembled one youthful grocery clerk, stopping his Ford delivery wagon to stare from the seat, and one solemn small boy, tugging a smaller sister who had a careless nose.

“I wonder where the Haydocks are?  They ought to show up, at least,” said Erik.

Carol smiled confidently at him, and peered down the empty road toward town.  Only heat-waves and dust and dusty weeds.

At half-past three no one had come, and the grocery boy reluctantly got out, cranked his Ford, glared at them in a disillusioned manner, and rattled away.  The small boy and his sister ate grass and sighed.

The players pretended to be exhilarated by practising service, but they startled at each dust-cloud from a motor car.  None of the cars turned into the meadow-none till a quarter to four, when Kennicott drove in.

Carol’s heart swelled.  “How loyal he is!  Depend on him!  He’d come, if nobody else did.  Even though he doesn’t care for the game.  The old darling!”

Kennicott did not alight.  He called out, “Carrie!  Harry Haydock ’phoned me that they’ve decided to hold the tennis matches, or whatever you call ’em, down at the cottages at the lake, instead of here.  The bunch are down there now:  Haydocks and Dyers and Clarks and everybody.  Harry wanted to know if I’d bring you down.  I guess I can take the time—­come right back after supper.”

Before Carol could sum it all up, Erik stammered, “Why, Haydock didn’t say anything to me about the change.  Of course he’s the president, but——­”