On the very next Afternoon the unquenchable demand for Sport asserted itself.
Steve went into the Back Yard with his eldest Son and looked about cautiously.
"Is the Look-Out stationed on the Fence?" he asked.
"He is."
"Is the Garden Gate securely locked?"
"It is."
"Are the Mallets properly muffled?"
"They are."
"Then t'hell with the Law! We'll have a Game of Croquet."
MORAL: If it is in the Blood, the only Remedy is the substitution of
Iced Tea.