"Oh, why?"
"So as to give the scorer an extra line or two for the byes."
Myra laughed; then, catching my eye, looked preternaturally solemn.
"If you've quite finished breakfast, Mr Gaukrodger," she said, "there'll be just time for me to beat you at croquet before the Rabbits take the field."
"Right O," I said.
Of course, you know, my name isn't really Gaukrodger.
CHAPTER II
ON THE RUN
The Major has taken a great deal of trouble with his ground, and the result pleases everybody. If you are a batsman you applaud the short boundaries; if you are a wicket-keeper (as I am), and Thomas is bowling what he is pleased to call googlies, you have leisure to study some delightful scenery; and if you are a left-handed bowler, with a delivery outside the screen, there is behind you a belt of trees which you cannot fail to admire. When Archie was born, and they announced the fact to the Major, his first question was (so I understand), "Right or left handed?" They told him "Left" to quiet him, and he went out and planted a small forest, so that it should be ready for Archibald's action when he grew up. Unfortunately, Archie turned out to be no bowler at all (in my opinion)—and right-handed at that. Nemesis, as the ha'penny papers say.
"Well?" we all asked, when Archie came back from tossing.
"They lost, and put us in."