Mr. Hanbury presently arrived at the net, with two more small boys picked up on the way. Each was given an innings, with a little helpful coaching, Pip coming last. He stood up to the bowling manfully, and occasionally slogged one of his weaker brethren; but his bat was anything but straight, and Ham bowled him at will.
"M' yes," said Mr. Hanbury, "you are only an average lot of batsmen. Can any of you bowl?"
There was a respectful chorus of "No, sir," as custom demanded.
"Well, try. I am going to have a knock."
Pip and company bowled a few laborious overs, and speedily proved that their estimate of their own powers was based upon truth, their preceptor treating their deliveries with little ceremony.
Finally they were ranged in a semicircle, and Ham gave them fielding practice.
Here Pip felt more at home. He was quick on his feet and possessed a "nippy" pair of hands. His ground fielding was especially good.
"Hallo!" cried Mr. Hanbury, as Pip got to a ball which kept low down on his left, and returned it particularly smartly; "which hand did you throw in that ball with, young man?"
Pip surveyed two grubby paws doubtfully.
"I think it was my left, sir," he said apologetically. "I can't help it sometimes."