“Then it’s hardly bad enough to prevent your playing,” said Raleigh, drily.
Loman did not like this. He and Raleigh never got on well together, and it was evident the captain was more angry than sympathetic now.
“Whatever shall we do for bowlers?” said some one.
“I’m awfully sorry,” said Loman, wishing he was anywhere but where he was; “but how am I to help?”
“Whatever induced you to sprain your wrist?” said Wren. “You might just as well have put it off till Monday.”
“Just fancy how foolish we shall look if those young beggars beat us, as they are almost sure to do,” said Winter.
Loman was quickly losing his temper, for all this was, or seemed to be, addressed pointedly to him.
“What’s the use of talking like that?” he retorted. “You ass, you! as if I could help.”
“Shouldn’t wonder if you could help,” replied Winter.
“Perhaps,” suggested some one, “it was the Dominican put him out of joint. It certainly did give him a rap over the knuckles.”