"Not till I make a man on 'ee, boy."
"May I present my friend Sir Gilbert Young, sir?" said Frank Godolphin, coming up at this moment through the gathering crowd.
My lord bowed and swept off his hat in the courtly fashion of the day, in response to a still lower salutation from the young Cambridge man.
"I am honoured, my lord," said Sir Gilbert.
"My lard, i' fecks!" ejaculated Sherebiah's father, with a startled look. "My lard,—an' I ha'n't even pulled my forelock! Boy, doff your cap to my lard! And the Book says, 'They shall stand afore princes', and I'm a-sitten!"
The old fellow began to struggle to his feet with the aid of his staff, but Godolphin laid his hand on his arm, and pressed him down.
"Sit fast, gaffer," he said. "See, the players are coming out again. I am pleased to have met one of Noll's veterans so hale and hearty, and I hope your son will turn out as great a comfort to you as mine."
He put his arm fondly through Frank's, and returned to his carriage. The crowd was collecting about the rope, and the Cambridge men were already taking their places in the field. Their score of a hundred was higher than the average in those days, and the villagers were eagerly discussing the chances of their team excelling it. They had seen nothing of the other side's bowling powers, but as they compared notes on the various merits as batsmen of Honest John, and Long Robin, and Lumpy, and the rest, many of them shook their heads and looked rather down in the mouth.
The first pair of batsmen came to the wickets. They were Old Everlasting and Soapy Dick. The former took the first over, bowled by Gilbert Young, the captain of the team, and calmly blocked every ball of the four, giving a wink to his friends in the crowd when over was called. Soapy Dick, at the other wicket, was a little man with very red hair brushed up into a sort of top-knot in front. He handled his bat in a nervous manner, and was made still more nervous by the cries of the crowd.
"Hit un, Soapy!" cried one yokel. "Doan't be afeard, man."