"Hullo," said Morris, "Grab a mallet, and come on."
Bobby liked Morris, who was a short, redheaded boy of jolly aspect. Gerald, a youth of perhaps twelve years of age, rather tall and slender, of very dark, clear, pale complexion, nodded carelessly. Bobby took an immediate distaste for him. He looked altogether too superior, and sleepy and distinguished—yes, and stylish. Bobby was very young and inexperienced; but even he could feel that Gerald's round straw hat, and norfolk-cut jacket, and neat, loose, short trousers buckled at the knee contrasted a little more than favourably with his own chip hat, blue blouse and tight breeches. Also he was already dusty, while Gerald was immaculate.
As to Kitty and Margaret, they were nice, neat, clean, pretty little girls—but not like Celia!
Bobby found a mallet and ball in the long wooden case, and joined the game. He was not skilful at it, and soon fell behind the others in the progress through the wickets. Indeed, when, after two strokes, he had at last gained position for the "middle arch," he met Gerald coming the other way. Gerald shot for his ball; hit it; and then, with a disdainful air, knocked Bobby away out of bounds across the lawn. This was quite within the rules, but it made Bobby angry just the same. As he trudged doggedly away after his ball, he felt himself very much alone under what he thought must be the derisive eyes of all the rest. The game ended before he had gained the turning stake.
"Skunked," remarked Morris cheerfully.
Gerald said nothing, did not even look; but Bobby liked Morris's comment better than Gerald's assumed indifference.
"Let's have another game—partners," suggested Gerald to Celia.
But Bobby, to his own great surprise, found courage to speak up.
"Let's not play croquet any more," said he. "Let's have a game of Hi-Spy."
"It's too hot," interposed Gerald quickly.