“Me dance!” cried Ellis, with a doleful expression. “Tell me, Bracebridge, did you ever see a bear attempt to practise the Terpsichorean art. I should be very like the monster if I were to try it. But it is not that—there is something I cannot tell you about which makes me so unhappy, that I never expect to get over it. Nobody here knows anything about it, but some day they may, and then I shall be worse off than I am now.”
“Well, I don’t want you to tell me,” replied Ernest, for he had an innate dislike to petty confidences. “But, I repeat, come and join us in our games. Just practise cricket, for instance, every day for a month or so, with single wickets, and you’ll be able to join in our matches, and play as well as any one, I dare say.”
“Oh, no! I’ve no hopes of myself. I’m sure I shall never play cricket,” said Ellis, shaking his head.
“We’ll see about that,” observed Ernest, laughing at his friend’s lugubrious expression of countenance. “But I’ll tell you what you can do; you can play a game of rounders. It is not often that I play now, but I will get up a game for your sake.”
Ellis was easily persuaded to accept Ernest’s offer. They went out into the playground, and the latter was not long in finding plenty of players ready to join the game. Everybody was very much surprised when they saw Ernest select Ellis on his side.
“Why, Bracebridge, you’ll never do with that fellow; he’ll be out directly,” cried several boys.
“Never mind; he’ll play better than you suppose in a little time,” was the answer. “Everybody must make a beginning.”
Five of a side were chosen, and the ground was marked out. Five sticks were run into the earth, about sixteen yards apart, the lines between them
forming the sides of a pentagon, with one stick in the centre. The centre was the place for the feeder.