made all these antics the more flustering and annoying was that David, with guileless sincerity, frankly confessed that he was often by no means clear himself what the ball was going to do. “I always mean it to do something rum,” he said, “but of course it doesn’t always come off, and sometimes it does just the opposite. That’s such awful fun. It’s all silly tosh, my bowling, you know. Comes off in house-matches sometimes, but any school team would hit me over the moon.” This perfectly sincere view of his own performance was not shared by Humphreys, the captain of the school eleven who had twice been one of David’s victims, and to whom this opinion was expressed. “But the one you bowled me with in the first innings,” said that much-injured young man, “came round my legs and took the middle-stump, blast you. Didn’t you mean that?” David put his head on one side, considering. “Yes, I think I did,” he said. “It was rather a good ball for me. I thought it might do something of the sort. Every one gets a good ball in sometimes if they go on long enough.” “Well, I wish you would keep them for school-matches,” said Humphreys. “And second innings you had me with a roaring full-pitch, ninety-five miles an hour. I thought it was only eighty-five, and so I missed it by ten miles.” David laughed. “Sorry. It was rather a fast one,” he said. “I thought it had got you in the tummy. Jolly glad it was only your wicket.” “So’m I,” remarked Humphreys. “Come and bathe.” * * * * * Since then, every day had added to the pace of the ground, and this Sunday afternoon, as David strolled down with Bags, he looked at the turf with extreme content. “Just my luck all over,” he said, “that it should be getting into the state that suits me best for Old Boys’ match. Lord, what a pity I said that! I shan’t be able to send down a decent ball now. But I should love to bowl Frank. Bags, I do think about cricket so tremendously in the summer half. I lie awake making plans.” He took a short run and brought his arm over his shoulder in a complicated fashion. “Why shouldn’t I bring my arm up overhand like that,” he said, “and turn my wrist over underhand? You might say that the ball would simply fly up gently in the air and fall at my feet. But something might be done with it. You can usually do something with anything if you give your mind to it.” “Like you with Jev,” remarked Bags. “Oh, that’s only Adams’s rot.” He broke off and focused his blue eyes on a group of figures coming up the field towards them. “Lord, here’s Mother Gray and Violet coming,” he said. “I say, is my tie straight? Who’s the man with them?” “Don’t know. Friend of theirs probably.” “Clever fellow! Hope they’ll ask me to tea.” David had been carrying his straw hat in his hand, but put it on, in order to have the joy of taking it off to them. “Same man who was in chapel this morning with them,” said Bags in an undertone.