"As it was, the weather only allowed you to give a chance to the wicket-keeper off the one ball you had."
"I was getting the pace of the pitch," said Jeremy. "Besides, it wasn't really a chance, because our umpire would never have given the treasurer out first ball. There are certain little courtesies which are bound to be observed."
"Then," said his wife, "it's a pity you don't play more often."
Jeremy got up and made a few strokes with the poker.
"One of us is rather stiff," he said. "Perhaps it's the poker. If I play regularly this season will you promise to bring Baby to watch me?"
"Of course we shall both come."
"And you won't let Baby jeer at me if I'm bowled by a shooter."
"She won't know what a shooter is."
"Then you can tell her that it's the only ball that ever bowls father," said Jeremy. He put down the poker and took up a ball of wool. "I shall probably field somewhere behind the wicket-keeper, where the hottest drives don't come; but if I should miss a catch you must point out to her that the sun was in father's eyes. I want my child to understand the game as soon as possible."
"I'll tell her all that she ought to know," said his wife. "And when you've finished playing with my wool I've got something to do with it."