Just then Hodson came up.
“How is he?”
“Too bad to play, he says. Isn’t it beastly?”
“Do you mean it, Burr junior?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m very, very queer. I couldn’t play.”
“You ain’t shamming, are you?”
“Look at me and see,” I replied faintly, and directly after I felt a cool hand laid on my burning forehead.
“There’s no gammon about it,” said Hodson. “We must do the best we can. Look sharp, Senna.”
“Yes,” said Burr major; “he’ll have to take a turn at the bowling.”
“I shan’t play if Frank Burr don’t,” said Mercer stoutly.