Long-Baddeley formed part of Lord Fordingbridge’s property.
The Squire and Lionel advanced to greet their visitors. They shook hands with Fordingbridge, Joel Tibber, and those members of XI whom they knew personally. Mild chaff was exchanged. The Squire inquired after the twins.
“Two big bouncing boys,” proclaimed the father. “It would do your heart good to see them, Sir Geoffrey.”
“The more the merrier. Never expected to see you.”
“I’m not playing, but I had to come. Lionel looks as fit as a fiddle.”
“Yes, yes; India’s made a strong man of him.”
Lionel bandied pleasantries with Mr. Tibber, the captain of Long-Baddeley—
“I’ve put on chain armour under my flannels, Joel.”
“Ah-h-h! Pitch won’t be so nice an’ bumpy, seemin’ly, after them there rains.”
He spoke with sincere regret. A hard, bumpy pitch meant many wickets for Mr. Tibber. He preferred village greens for his deadly work. The Parsons, wearing his Cambridge “blue,” joined the group. In the cricket field he looked ten years younger. Lionel couldn’t see either Moxon or Joyce. But the onlookers had not yet arrived. Margot and Lady Pomfret were expected at noon.