“I don’t know. Of the answer, I suppose. I shouldn’t have thought it was five yet.”
“But it is, and that compels us to decide between tea and cricket.”
“We can get tea in the pavilion. There’s another four.”
“You shall give me a hundred to one that the next ball is not a wicket,” said the Babe.
“In pennies, and make it fifty.”
“Done.”
A very audible click, and an appeal. Reggie got up and felt in his pockets.
“I should have been ashamed to get out to a ball like that. You’ll have to pay for tea, Babe. There you are.”
“Twopence more,” said the Babe.
“Not if I went to the stake for it, Hullo, Ealing, where are you from? Ealing’s got a glorious post-tripos face too. He really deserves to be able to play ‘Praise the Lord, ye heavens, adore Him,’ but he can’t even now.”