Deserted by his companions in the sport, he was relieving himself of some of his superfluous energy by the novel diversion of playing tennis with himself.

This he accomplished by serving the ball high up in the air and then jumping the net, so as to take it on the other side, following up his return by another leap over the net, and so on till either he or the ball came to grief.

On an ordinary day the exertion involved in this pastime would be quite enough for any ordinary individual, but on a day like the present, with the thermometer at ninety in the shade, it was a trifle too much even to watch.
"For goodness' sake shut up, Horrors," said the elder brother.

"We might as well be playing ourselves as watch you at that sort of thing." The young gentleman addressed as Horrors was at that moment in the midst of one of his aerial flights, and had neither leisure nor breath to answer.
"Do you hear ?" repeated the other.

"If you want to keep warm, go indoors and put on a great-coat, but don't fag us to death with that foolery." "Eight!" exclaimed the young athlete, scoring the number of times the ball had crossed the net, and starting for another jump.