"There's no doubt that our friend the aspirate has done it this year," said T; "but some of us are not downhearted. Look at all my Tyldesleys."
"We're quite willing to look at them," said C, "but don't ask us to count them. Meanwhile what about my Cook in the same county? And good old hard-working Coe and Cox?"
"Yes," said L, "and what about Lancashire itself—almost at the top of the tree? And Lee of Middlesex? H may have the greatest number of heroes, but we're not to be sneezed at. And even his wonderful Hobbs couldn't win the championship. It rested between M and me. I'm proud to be M's next-door neighbour."
"It's been a great season for me," said M. "I admit to being nervous on the second day of the last great match, but all's well now. What a game that was! And it's not only of Middlesex that I'm proud; if you glance at the batting averages you will notice Mead not a great way removed from the top; and Makepeace not far below him, and I hold Murrell in special esteem."
"Yes," said R, "and if you continue to look you will find Rhodes at the head of the bowling, and Rushby and Richmond in honourable places, and the steady Russell with over two thousand runs to his name. There are also two brothers named Relf. Good heavens, the H's aren't everything!"
"He doesn't claim, I hope," B struck in, "that Brown begins with H, or Bowley, or Bat or Ball or Bails?"
"Nor," said S, "that Sandham and Sutcliffe and Stevens and Seymour and the gallant little Strudwick (who, like all wicket-keepers, is so liable to be overlooked) never existed? Not to mention my latest recruit, Mr. Skeet? Some letters can be too haughty and—"
"Grasping," said G. "But all of you must be careful of me. I carry big Gunns."
THE HAPPY WARRIOR.