Elsie was silent again, and gazed at him, open-eyed. Pip saw that he had struck the right note.
"I gave up the cricket-match to play with you," he said. "Will you play with me?"
Elsie was defenceless against this appeal. She knew, better than most girls, perhaps, what it must cost a man to decline an invitation to play for England.
"All right, Pip," she said gently, getting up and shaking her skirt, "I'll play you. Nine o'clock to-morrow morning. I shall beat you, though," she added.
Pip said nothing. It is always politic to make a virtue of necessity. That is why one allows a woman the last word.
They were very silent as they walked home in the twilight. Pip, having achieved the object with which he had set out, had no further remarks to make. Elsie seemed less at ease, and kept shooting half-amused, half-angry glances at the obtuse young man beside her. She objected to being treated as something between a Prehistoric Peep and a Scratch Medal.
Presently they came to Raven Innes's cottage.
"Are you coming in, Pip?" inquired Elsie as she stood at the door.
"No, thanks. Raven would keep me up all hours, and I'm going to bed very early. Good-night."