"A good coach would know what was the best thing to do with that particular ball, wouldn't he? And that's just what he would tell you."
"He wouldn't know," I said modestly. "You don't often meet that sort of ball in good cricket."
"No, I suppose not. That's why I didn't know what to do, I expect. You know I generally know exactly what to do, only I can't do it."
"Is that really so?" I cried excitedly. "Why, then, of course, you ought to coach me!"
* * * * * * *
We had a very jolly afternoon. I fancy I shall be in some form this year. Miss Middleton is one of the best bowlers I have seen, but I brought off some beautiful shots. I wanted some tea badly afterwards.
"What glorious days we have now," said Miss Middleton's mother, as she handed me a cup.
"Glorious," said Miss Middleton's father.
"H'm, yes," I said doubtfully. "But you know I'm afraid it won't last. It's beginning to look rather like—like hail."
"Yes," said Miss Middleton. "We both thought so."