"Why don't you play with the children?" asked his aunt at last.
"Play with the kids?" gasped Tom. "Why, auntie, they are all girls except Hugh, and he not even in knickerbockers! And they don't know how!"
"Well, can't you teach them?" his aunt asked. Tom looked at her with some surprise. He was very fond of her and would do much to please her, but this seemed rather unreasonable.
"I—I have only a bat," he murmured? "there aren't any stumps!"
"O, I'll soon make you some stumps," said the lady briskly. "Come out into the garden and I'll soon get them."
She was as good as her word. In a few minutes she had found three sticks, pointed the ends with her pocket-knife, and driven them in with the gardener's mallet on the lower lawn. A flower-pot was placed on the centre stick. Then she produced a ball from her pocket.
"Now," she said, "you have everything you will want, and I leave you to teach your scratch team."
Tom laughed. The phrase "your scratch team" pleased him. His aunt's energy had infected him, and he began to marshal his forces.
"Now, look here, girls," he said; "Maggie, you're wicket-keeper, and Fan and Kitty must field, and Hugh shall bowl."
But Hugh proved such an indifferent bowler that even the girls began to clamour.