“You don’t take me in,” said Grace.
“She won’t kiss Toddles’ cap,” said T. S. M., with the brutality of his time of life, “because she thinks if she holds out long enough she’ll be able to kiss Toddles himself.”
“Tommy!” said his sister, “if you were not so young, I should think you were rude.”
A second later she added most uncompromisingly, “And it’s all right. I’m not going to be had. I’m not going to kiss Toddles’s cap, if it is a Harlequin, and if he did make a hundred against Cambridge in it. And I’m not going to take the oath, and I’m not going to play the giddy ox at all. Archie, you’re out, under rule seven, and out you’ve got to go. What’s your opinion, Biffin? Is Mr. Archie out, or is he not?”
“Hout, miss,” said Biffin. “Hout, most certingly.”
“There you are!” said the Gloucestershire captain. “Next man get his pads on. And if he’s not in in two minutes, his wicket’ll be claimed, under rule forty-five.”
“Well, as the umpire is against me,” said Archie, “I suppose I shall have to go. All the same, I think the M.C.C. ought to know about it. These rules seem a bit unusual.”
“It’s ’cause you’re like the cucumbers, you know, Archie,” said W. G. “It’s ’cause you can’t see.”
It is scarcely necessary to give a detailed narration of my first county match. In a little over an hour the four Middlesex representatives were disposed of for thirty-three. This was considered a small score for the ground; but as both sides fielded, and very admirably too, and hitting carried penalties with it, the Middlesex total calls for no comment. Besides, the Gloucestershire captain was a remarkably alert tactician, who knew the game of cricket perfectly well, and the Rectory rules even better. Her placing of the field betrayed an intimate acquaintance with the characteristics of each batsman; and her slow bowling was perfect in length, and as full of deception as it possibly could be. It might be true that Miss Grace had no beard; but it did not prevent her representing W. G. in most essentials. Indeed so much so, that when the youthful Harrow captain came in second wicket, she was heard to remark, “Oh, he’s a young ’un, is he! I think I can do for him.” And in addition to her other gifts, she possessed that rare but invaluable quality in a captain, of practically dictating the decisions of the umpire. There is no doubt that the Gloucestershire captain was invariably conscientious in her appeals, and the umpire equally so in his decisions. But their common faith in one another was beautiful. If Miss Grace did make an appeal, the excellent Biffin felt bound to endorse it. In his eyes Miss Grace’s judgment had an absolute and sovereign rectitude. Old pro. and county man as he was, Biffin had never an opinion of his own on any point on which Miss Grace happened to already entertain one. And this phenomenon in itself, I think, supplies a sufficient reason why the fair sex has yet to be seen in serious cricket. It simply would not do.
The fielding was excellent. Miss Grace’s eye was on it, and all of us, whether we felt inclined that way or not, performed prodigies of valour. And if the handsomest girl in the county brings off a bewilderingly brilliant “caught and bowled” before one’s eyes, stops the hottest cracks one hand, and fields and returns smashing hits all in one action, any man, with the least pretensions to be a player, is certain to be a bit above himself. Therefore do not be surprised that my fielding in all positions was very good indeed, and won encomiums from men who were accustomed to the best.