Norman seized the bat, looking as if he was going to do great things, and Fanny went, as he desired her, to a distance.
The first time he struck the trap he upset it, and the ball tumbled down by his side. Again and again he tried to hit the ball, but always missed it, and it sometimes scarcely rose out of the cup.
“What a stupid bat this is,” he exclaimed, losing patience, “I wonder you could manage to make the ball jump out of it.”
“All you want is patience and practice,” answered Fanny, “try and try again, I do not mind looking out for you?”
Norman made a few more attempts, with equal want of success.
“You have done something to the trap I am sure, or I should be able to hit the ball,” he cried out.
“Nonsense!” said Fanny laughing, “it is entirely your own fault, strike the tail more gently and keep your eye on the ball, you will be able to hit it.”
Once more he tried, but instead of hitting the trap more gently, Norman used greater force, and consequently upset it, and looking to see what had happened, instead of keeping his eyes on the ball, the latter in falling hit him slightly on the head; this was enough for him, and when Fanny, laughing, was coming up to him, altogether losing his temper he threw the bat at her with all his force. It fortunately missed her head, but striking her on the shoulder hurt her very much.
“O Norman, how could you do that!” she exclaimed, seizing him by the arm. “I was only going to show you how to use the bat, and you might have killed me,” she said, naturally feeling very angry with him. “You naughty, naughty boy!”
Norman lifted up his fist as if about to strike her, Fanny seized his other arm, he struggled to free himself. At that moment Mrs Vallery came out of the house.