Ponty, followed by the two bewildered champions, strolled about till he came upon an indifferent set being played by Gosse and Cazenove against Raggles and another boy called Wade.
"Stop the game for a bit, you youngsters," said the captain.

"Which two of you are the best ?" "I think I and Raggles are," said Gosse, with his usual modesty.
"Oh, then you can sit out.

Give your rackets to these two; they're going to play against Cazenove and Wade." Dick's heart sank within him as he took Gosse's racket and glanced up at the captain's face.
"I'm rather out of practice," faltered he.
"Come, are you ready?
I'll umpire," said the captain.
It was a melancholy exhibition, that scratch match; all the more melancholy that the other courts gradually emptied and a ring of Juniors formed, who stared silently now at the players, then round at Pontifex, and wondered what on earth he found to interest him in a miserable show like this.

For our heroes mulled everything.

Two faults were not enough for them; the holes in their rackets were legion, and their legs never went the way they wanted.