This exploit of Tom's and his uncle's anger made the boy more careful; and all went well until the day before the cricket match, when Tom and Allan went out for a private practice in the field.
"You aren't standing right. Your leg's before the wicket," said Allan, as Tom stood ready, bat in hand, to receive the ball.
"Oh, I know! but it's only for practice," said Tom quickly. "Send me the ball."
Allan bowled, Tom hit, the ball spun straight up in the air and came down almost at Tom's feet.
"Hullo!" said Allan, pointing to the stumps; "how did you do that?"
Tom looked round and found he had knocked over the stumps. This slight mistake having been set right, Tom was ready to start again. This time, as the ball spun off his bat, there was a crash, and Allan exclaimed in horror, "Oh, Father's precious orchids!" for the ball had gone through the glass of the small greenhouse, and had overturned and injured several cherished plants.
Poor Tom thought he had had enough of cricket for that day, and went in to make his confession to his uncle. Allan's piteous face did more towards softening his father than Tom's regrets, and he said very little about the matter, though possibly he felt the more.
The next day the cricket match came off. Tom very soon found that in playing it was necessary to have done something more than look on. He knew little or nothing of the rules of the game, and brought disgrace on himself, and on his cousin for having introduced so bad a player into the village eleven. Had there been any one to take his place he would have been turned out in spite of anything Allan could say, but as it was they were obliged to put up with him.
When Tom went in, his first action was to put himself out, amid the hootings of fury and amusement of the rest of the party. Even Allan was getting cross with him.