This uncle was a man of wealth. After winning two fortunes on the Stock Exchange and losing them both, he had at length amassed a third, with which he retired in triumph to the country, leaving Throgmorton Street to exist as best it could without him. He had bought a 'show-place' at a village which lay twenty miles by rail to the east of Beckford, and it had always been Norris's wish to see this show-place, a house which was said to combine the hoariest of antiquity with a variety of modern comforts. Merely to pay a flying visit there would be good. But his uncle held out an additional attraction. If Norris could catch the one-forty from Horton, he would arrive just in time to take part in a cricket match, that day being the day of the annual encounter with the neighbouring village of Pudford. The rector of Pudford, the opposition captain, so wrote Norris's uncle, had by underhand means lured down three really decent players from Oxford--not Blues, but almost--who had come to the village ostensibly to read classics with him as their coach, but in reality for the sole purpose of snatching from Little Bindlebury (his own village) the laurels they had so nobly earned the year before. He had heard that Norris was captaining the Beckford team this year, and had an average of thirty-eight point nought three two, so would he come and make thirty-eight point nought three two for Little Bindlebury? 'This,' thought Norris, 'is Fame. This is where I spread myself. I must be in this at any price.' He showed the letter to Baker. 'What a pity,' said Baker. 'What's a pity?' 'That you won't be able to go. It seems rather a catch.' 'Can't go?' said Norris; 'my dear sir, you're talking through your hat. Think I'm going to refuse an invitation like this? Not if I know it. I'm going to toddle off to Jephson, get an exeat, and catch that one-forty. And if I don't paralyse the Pudford bowling, I'll shoot myself.' 'But the House match! Leicester's! This afternoon!' gurgled the amazed Baker. 'Oh, hang Leicester's. Surely the rest of you can lick the Kids' Happy League without my help. If you can't, you ought to be ashamed of yourselves. I've chosen you a wicket with my own hands, fit to play a test match on.' 'Of course we ought to lick them. But you can never tell at cricket what's going to happen. We oughtn't to run any risks when we've got such a good chance of winning the pot. Why, it's centuries since we won the pot. Don't you go.' 'I must, man. It's the chance of a lifetime.' Baker tried another method of attack. 'Besides,' he said, 'you don't suppose Jephson'll let you off to play in a beastly little village game when there's a House match on?' 'He must never know!' hissed Norris, after the manner of the Surrey-side villain. 'He's certain to ask why you want to get off so early.' 'I shall tell him my uncle particularly wishes me to come early.' 'Suppose he asks why?' 'I shall say I can't possibly imagine.'