"No, one wouldn't, would it? But the zebu would keep on. Crocodiles live on sand-banks, don't they? Well, then, the zebu would come and live near the sandbank too--just so far as the crocodile would never see him. Then every time the crocodile wasn't looking the zebu would butt him. Don't you think he would beat the crocodile?" "Well, perhaps he would." "How long do you think it would take the zebu to beat the crocodile?" "Well, it would depend upon how often he got in his butt." "Well, suppose he butted him once every three hours, don't you think--?" "Oh, bother the zebu!" "That's what the crocodile would say," cried Laddie, clapping his hands. "Well, I agree with the crocodile," said Daddy. "And it's time all good children were in bed," said the Lady as the glimmer of the nurse's apron was seen in the gloom. II--ABOUT CRICKET Supper was going on down below and all good children should have been long ago in the land of dreams. Yet a curious noise came from above. "What on earth--?" asked Daddy. "Laddie practising cricket," said the Lady, with the curious clairvoyance of motherhood. "He gets out of bed to bowl. I do wish you would go up and speak seriously to him about it, for it takes quite an hour off his rest." Daddy departed upon his mission intending to be gruff, and my word, he can be quite gruff when he likes! When he reached the top of the stairs, however, and heard the noise still continue, he walked softly down the landing and peeped in through the half-opened door. The room was dark save for a night-light. In the dim glimmer he saw a little white-clad figure, slight and supple, taking short steps and swinging its arm in the middle of the room. "Halloa!" said Daddy. The white-clad figure turned and ran forward to him. "Oh, Daddy, how jolly of you to come up!" Daddy felt that gruffness was not quite so easy as it had seemed. "Look here! You get into bed!" he said, with the best imitation he could manage. "Yes, Daddy. But before I go, how is this?" He sprang forward and the arm swung round again in a swift and graceful gesture. Daddy was a moth-eaten cricketer of sorts, and he took it in with a critical eye. "Good, Laddie. I like a high action. That's the real Spofforth swing." "Oh, Daddy, come and talk about cricket!" He was pulled on the side of the bed, and the white figure dived between the sheets. "Yes; tell us about cwicket!" came a cooing voice from the corner. Dimples was sitting up in his cot. "You naughty boy! I thought one of you was asleep, anyhow. I mustn't stay. I keep you awake." "Who was Popoff?" cried Laddie, clutching at his father's sleeve. "Was he a very good bowler?" "Spofforth was the best bowler that ever walked on to a cricket-field. He was the great Australian Bowler and he taught us a great deal." "Did he ever kill a dog?" from Dimples. "No, boy. Why?" "Because Laddie said there was a bowler so fast that his ball went frue a coat and killed a dog."