“Shut up, can’t you?” I said. “I was just in a doze.”
“Why don’t you face your position,” said he, “as becomes a valiant man of Little Clumpton? You’ve got to play Grace in an hour or two, and yet the bowling at your command is incapable of getting a girls’ school out. As I am truly anxious that you shall bring no disgrace upon your club, might I suggest that you get a little practice before the match begins?”
“Almost a suggestion for you,” said I. “Are you willing to assist me?”
“Oh, I’ll see you through with it,” said the Optimist, who, I have reason to believe, was the most unselfish person in the world. Let this explain, then, how it came about that at a little before eight, the pair of us dressed, and presently sallied below to obtain a ball wherewith I might develop the theory and practice of bowling. It was not, of course, to be expected that our companions in the late pious orgies would be yet abroad; indeed, we felt ourselves to be quite early. It was not at all a difficult affair to procure the article of which we were in need, as the first domestic to whom we broached the subject directed us to a receptacle where bats, balls, stumps, pads, gloves and “blanco” were heaped together in profuse disorder. On sallying out to the lawn, however, the very first object our eyes fell on gave us no inconsiderable shock.
Miss Grace was assisting Biffin to prepare the wicket with a small but apparently heavy hand-roller. Involuntarily the pair of us, guilty as we felt ourselves to be, made a motion to withdraw. Alas! too late! we had been observed.
“Mornin’, Cheery; mornin’, Dimmy,” cried Miss Grace, in a voice as strong as a blackbird’s. “Come and roll a bit. We’ve been at it an hour or more.”
There was no alternative but somewhat reluctantly to approach.
“Why, what an early bird you are!” I began. “I thought you said breakfast was at half-past ten.”
“For you idle men,” said she. “I’ve had one already, and shall be ready for another by then. ’Must lend Biffin a hand; he’d never have these wickets O.K. else.”
“What time does the match begin?” I asked, to keep up the conversation, whilst I tried to smuggle unseen the tell-tale ball into my coat.