“O’ course, a girl can’t declare, you know, Charlie,” said Grace.
“Well, why a girl?” asked Toddles, hiding his face in his cap. “And why should she want to declare? And what is it she wants to declare?”
“Depends on what you’re playing at,” said Archie darkly.
“I am afraid, gentlemen,” said the Rector, “that you are not entirely familiar with the rules of the game. I think you may safely leave the matter with Laura. I’ve always said that she had more purely technical knowledge than all the rest of us put together.”
“Beg pardon, sir,” said Biffin, “but I’ve allus said the very same about Miss Laura. Allus back her opinion, I would. Although, begging pardon, sir, I think she’s fair hout this time.”
“Clean bowled, Biffin, I suppose you mean?” said the Rector.
“Hout, sir, fair hout!” said that ancient villain, chuckling till the score-book shook.
Meantime the Rector was patting his daughter’s cheek. And almost simultaneously some person or persons unknown buffeted me violently in the ribs. My suspicions rested on Toddles.
EPILOGUE
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