THE END OF THE SEASON.
The letters of the alphabet were talking.
"It's been a wonderful season," said S. "I 'm very proud of it."
"Yes," said C; "I don't suppose so much interest was ever taken in cricket before. The number of people able to spend time at a match has been the greatest ever known."
L agreed. "Even on the middle days of the week," he said, "Lord's has been packed."
"Lord's, forsooth!" O struck in. "Lord's has been empty compared with the Oval. The Ovalites have lost no opportunity of watching their heroes."
"When you say 'their heroes' you mean also mine," said H. "But they are not confined to the Oval. I have some at Lord's too; in fact, all over the country. It has been, all the best critics say, an H year." He ticked them off on his fingers. "For Surrey, Hobbs and Hitch; for Middlesex, Hendren and Hearne; for Yorkshire, Hirst and Holmes; for Notts, Hardstaff; for Kent, Hardinge and Hubble; for Worcestershire, Howell. And four of them," he added, "are going to play for England in Australia. It's a feather in my cap, I can tell you," H went on. "And I needed the encouragement too. No one is treated so badly as I am, especially in London, where I'm being dropped all day long or forced into company which I don't care about. Isn't that true?"
"Not 'arf!" said C, who is a good deal of a Cockney.
"There!" said H with a sigh, "I told you so."