Two and five!
Could it be done? Candour compels us to state that Fabian tactics might have succeeded, had not Fordingbridge been present. He, good sportsman, suffered no exasperating delays. Batsmen dared not tarry, drawing on their gloves.
One and three!
George Mucklow took heart of grace. Funk exuded from every pore of the tenth batsman’s skin as he, like George, tremblingly asked the umpire for block.
“Block be damned!” shouted his lordship. “Hit the next ball to the boundary, and I’ll give you a fiver.”
This counsel of perfection undid the unhappy youth. Hamlin bowled straight and true for the middle stump. The youth smote and missed.
“Bif!” yelled Lionel.
All out and one minute to spare. As the Nether-Applewhite team carried the Parson shoulder high to the marquee, the stable clock tolled solemnly the defeat of Long-Baddeley. Fishpingle and Alfred hurried to the house, but the Squire’s voice roared after them—
“Ben!”
“Sir Geoffrey?”