The Mistress
and the Master went across to the tournament; taking Lad along.
Not that there could be anything of the remotest interest to a
dog in the sight of flanneled young people swatting a ball back
and forth. But Lad was a privileged guest at all outdoor
functions; and he enjoyed being with his two deities.
Thus, when the two climbed the clubhouse veranda, Lad was at
their heels; pacing along in majestic unhappiness and not turning
his beautiful head in response to any of a dozen greetings flung
at him. The Mistress found a seat among a bevy of neighbors. Lad
lay down, decorously, at her feet; and refused to display the
faintest interest in anything that went on around him.
The playing had not yet begun. New arrivals were drifting up the
steps of the clubhouse. Car after car disgorged women in sport
clothes and men in knickerbockers or flannels. There was plenty
of chatter and bustle and motion. Lad paid no heed to any of it.
Then, up to the foot of the veranda steps jarred a flashy
runabout; driven by a flashier youth. At word from the policeman
in charge he parked his car at the rear of the clubhouse among
fifty others, and returned on foot to the steps.
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