"But there is no occasion to waste time," he said one day. "You boys have the book, so you cannot do better than well study it up, rules and all. Then you will thoroughly know how to play cricket; all you will want is practice."
"We shall have to study up the book, Phra," said Harry, after parting from the doctor, "and I know it's going to be a hard job. But never mind; when you've got to take physic, it's best to swallow it down at once. Come along."
Phra nodded, set his teeth hard, and they went up to the palace through the hot sunshine, to enter its cool precincts and find Phra's room refreshing in its semi-darkness after the glare without, where Harry said it was hot enough to frizzle up the leaves into tea.
The book was brought, cricket turned to, and they sat down side by side with the book on the table.
"Let's begin at the beginning, and go steadily through it," proposed
Phra.
"No, no; we'll just skim it first."
"Very well. What's this—popping grease? Why do they pop grease?"
"'Tisn't! It's popping crease. 'The popping crease must be four feet from the wicket, and exactly parallel with it.' Bother! I shan't read any more of that. Parallel! Why, it's geometry. Look at something else."
"'The wickets must be pitched,'" read Phra.
"What for? To keep off the wet, I suppose. No! It means pitched into the ground, to make them stand up."