"I think she'd better stay in to-day."
"What a pity. Nurse tells me she's left-handed, and I particularly want a lot of that; because Little Buxted has a very hot left-hand bowler called—"
"You don't want your daughter to be an athletic girl, do you?"
Jeremy looked at her in surprise and then sat down on the arm of her chair.
"Surely, dear," he said gravely, "we decided that our child was going to play for Kent?"
"Not a girl!"
"Why not? There's nothing in the rules about it. Rule 197 (B) says that you needn't play if you don't like the Manager, but there's nothing about sex in it. I'm sure Baby would love the Manager."
Mrs Jeremy smiled and ruffled his hair.
"Well," said Jeremy, "if nobody will bowl to me, I can at least take my bat out and let it see the grass. After six months of boots it will be a change for it."
He went out into the garden, and did not appear again until lunch.
During the meal he read extracts to his wife from "The Coming
Season's Prospects," and spoke cheerfully of the runs he intended to
make for the village. After lunch he took her on to the tennis lawn.