"No, Tom; I can't say rightly as how I do."
"You did. It was at the 'Crown and Anchor.' I had no money. I said if you'd stand Sam I'd pay you back again; but I never did. I'll pay you now."
Mr. Benyon paid him, five times over. The old gentleman bore it like a lamb. Whack--whack--whack--whack--whack! and the fall of his wicket at the end. As he returned towards the tent he wiped his wrinkled brow.
"I always said I wasn't no cricketer, and I ain't," he said.
CHAPTER III.
AND BATS.
Our innings was over--for thirteen runs. We sat there, moping in a crowd, I among the rest, when Mr. Benyon, bustling up, reminded me of my duties as a captain.
"Now then, turn out. Send your men into the field. We can't stop here all day. I'm first man in; soon I'll have to go, and I haven't had a smack at a cricket-ball these twenty years!"
We looked at each other. One part of his address gave us a certain gratification--that part in which he stated that he soon would have to go. We turned out. I suppose a more unpromising set of fieldsmen never yet took their places in the field. The Latchmere men went slouching towards the tent; some of them, I noticed, instead of going in stole towards the rear. These, I suspect, stole off the ground; I never set eyes on them again.
"Mr. Trentham, I--I can't bowl," whispered Mr. Sapsworth to me as we moved across the turf.