Compton began to find it too up-hill. At last, when they reached Highmore gate, he lost his patience, and said, “I see how it is. I have lost my sweet playmate forever. Good-by, Ruperta; I won't trouble you any more.” And he held out his hand to the young lady for a final farewell. Ruperta whipped both her hands behind her back like a school-girl, and then, recovering her dignity, cast one swift glance of gentle reproach, then suddenly assuming vast stateliness, marched into Highmore like the mother of a family. These three changes of manner she effected all in less than two seconds. Poor Compton went away sorely puzzled by this female kaleidoscope, but not a little alarmed and concerned at having mortally offended so much feminine dignity. After that he did not venture to accost her for some time, but he cast a few sheep's-eyes at her in church. Now Ruperta had told her mother all; and her mother had not forbidden her to speak to Compton, but had insisted on reserve and discretion. She now told her mother she thought he would not speak to her any more, she had snubbed him so. “Dear me!” said Mrs. Bassett, “why did you do that? Can you not be polite and nothing more?” “No, mamma.” “Why not? He is very amiable. Everybody says so.” “He is. But I keep remembering what a forward girl I was, and I am afraid he has not forgotten it either, and that makes me hate the poor little fellow; no, not hate him; but keep him off. I dare say he thinks me a cross, ill-tempered thing; and I _am_ very unkind to him, but I can't help it.” “Never mind,” said Mrs. Bassett; “that is much better than to be too forward. Papa would never forgive that.” By-and-by there was a cricket-match in the farmer's meadow, Highcombe and Huntercombe eleven against the town of Staveleigh. All clubs liked to play at Huntercombe, because Sir Charles found the tents and the dinner, and the young farmers drank his champagne to their hearts' content. Ruperta took her maid and went to see the match. They found it going against Huntercombe. The score as follows-- Staveleigh. First innings, a hundred and forty-eight runs. Huntercombe eighty-eight. Staveleigh. Second innings, sixty runs, and only one wicket down; and Johnson and Wright, two of their best men, well in, and masters of the bowling. This being communicated to Ruperta, she became excited, and her soul in the game. The batters went on knocking the balls about, and scored thirteen more before the young lady's eyes. “Oh, dear!” said she, “what is that boy about? Why doesn't he bowl? They pretend he is a capital bowler.” At this time Compton was standing long-field on, only farther from the wicket than usual.