Amongst others, Parson and Telson incautiously quit their seats, which are promptly “bagged” by Bosher and Lawkins, who have had their eyes on them all the morning, and are determined now, at any rate, to take the reward of their patience, and hold them against all comers.
The crowd in the tent has not a long time wherein to feast its eyes on the old captain, for Willoughby goes out to field almost at once, and Templeton’s innings begins. Whatever may have been the case with the school, Templeton seems quite unable to perform under the eyes of the great “M.C.C.” man, and wicket after wicket falls in rapid succession, until with the miserable total of fifty-one they finally retire for this innings.
“A follow-on,” says Game, who from near the tent is patronisingly looking on, in company with Ashley, Tipper, and Wibberly. “I suppose they ought to do them in one innings now?”
“Ought to try,” says Tipper. “Some of these kids play fairly well.”
“They get well coached, that’s what it is. What with Bloomfield, and Fairbairn, and Mr Parrett, they’ve been drilled, and no mistake.”
“Let’s see,” says Wibberly, “there are five Parretts in the eleven, aren’t there.”
Ashley laughs.
“I don’t fancy any one thought of counting,” says he. “Perhaps we’d better not, or it may turn out as bad for us as in the Rockshire match.”
“After all,” says Tipper, “I’m just as glad those rows are over. We’re none the worse off now.”
“No, I suppose not,” says Game, a little doubtfully; “and Bloomfield and he are such friends. It’s just as well to keep in with the captain.”