‘How does Edgar shape?’ asked Robert Foster.
‘I consider him one of our best bats, and expect great things of him. He has a happy knack of making a big score when it is most wanted. He is a smart fielder and a good change bowler. In fact, I cannot pay him a higher compliment than to say he is as good a man as his father,’ said Murch.
Edgar was now at the nets, and making the balls fly about merrily.
‘He does not seem very stiff after the voyage,’ said Robert Foster. ‘His wrist play is good, but his style could be improved a bit. I must give him a wrinkle or two.’
‘That will be going over to the enemy’s camp,’ said Murch, with a laugh; ‘but we shall be glad of such a valuable coach.’
‘By Jove! so it will,’ said Robert Foster. ‘But I cannot resist the temptation, all the same. We cricketers, I am glad to say, are always ready to help each other, and I have had many a good wrinkle given me by Australians.’
‘Ah! it is a game that stands ahead of all other games,’ said Murch enthusiastically. ‘It is a genuine sport, and a manly sport. It not only gives pleasure to the players, but to thousands of people in all parts of the world. Lovers of cricket, no matter where you go, are always willing to help each other.’
‘You are right,’ said Robert Foster. ‘Cricket will never take a back seat to any other game.’
‘Look out!’ said Murch, as he dodged a ball hit by Edgar. ‘Your son is evidently bent upon letting us know he is at the nets.’
When he had finished his turn with the bat Edgar joined his father and Murch.