Johnson, at the wicket bowled to, being a hard but not very scientific hitter, lifted a half volley ball right over the bowler's head, a hit for four, but a skyscraper. Compton started the moment he hit, and, running with prodigious velocity, caught the ball descending, within a few yards of Ruperta; but, to get at it, he was obliged to throw himself forward into the air; he rolled upon the grass, but held the ball in sight all the while. Mr. Johnson was out, and loud acclamations rent the sky. Compton rose, and saw Ruperta clapping her hands close by. She left off and blushed, directly he saw her. He blushed too, and touched his cap to her, with an air half manly, half sheepish, but did not speak to her. This was the last ball of the over, and, as the ball was now to be delivered from the other wicket, Compton took the place of long-leg. The third ball was overpitched to leg, and Wright, who, like most country players, hit freely to leg, turned half, and caught this ball exactly right, and sent it whizzing for five. But the very force of the stroke was fatal to him; the ball went at first bound right into Compton's hands, who instantly flung it back, like a catapult, at Wright's wicket. Wright, having hit for five, and being unable to see what had become of the ball, started to run, as a matter of course. But the other batsman, seeing the ball go right into long-leg's hands like a bullet, cried, “Back!” Wright turned, and would have got back to his wicket if the ball had required handling by the wicket-keeper; but, by a mixture of skill with luck, it came right at the wicket. Seeing which, the wicket-keeper very judiciously let it alone, and it carried off the bails just half a second before Mr. Wright grounded his bat. “How's that, umpire?” cried the wicket-keeper. “Out!” said the Staveleigh umpire, who judged at that end. Up went the ball into the air, amid great excitement of the natives. Ruperta, carried away by the general enthusiasm, nodded all sparkling to Compton, and that made his heart beat and his soul aspire. So next over he claimed his rights, and took the ball. Luck still befriended him: he bowled four wickets in twelve overs; the wicket-keeper stumped a fifth: the rest were “the tail,” and disposed of for a few runs, and the total was no more than Huntercombe's first innings. Our hero then took the bat, and made forty-seven runs before he was disposed of, five wickets down for a hundred and ten runs. The match was not won yet, nor sure to be; but the situation was reversed. On going out, he was loudly applauded; and Ruperta naturally felt proud of her admirer. Being now free, he came to her irresolutely with some iced champagne. Ruperta declined, with thanks; but he looked so imploringly that she sipped a little, and said, warmly, “I hope we shall win: and, if we do, I know whom we shall have to thank.” “And so do I: you, Miss Bassett.” “Me? Why, what have _I_ done in the matter?”