Tuesday morning about eleven o'clock
And while the echo of the words yet held the girl motionless he was gone . * * * * * Down by the road which runs past the hotel , sunken ten feet below its level , are the tennis-courts , and soldiers in scarlet and khaki , and blue-jackets with floating ribbons , and negro bell-boys returning from errands , and white-gowned American women with flowery hats , and men in summer flannels stop as they pass , and sit on the low wall and watch the games . There is always a gallery for the tennis-players . But on a Tuesday morning about eleven o'clock the audience began to melt away in disgust . Without doubt they were having plenty of amusement among themselves , these tennis-players grouped at one side of the court and filling the air with explosions of laughter . But the amusement of the public was being neglected . Why in the world , being rubber-shod as to the foot and racqueted as to the hand , did they not play tennis ?