The ball executed some rapid movements to and fro across the field. Our side was pressing hard. There was a violent convergence of miscellaneous backs and suchlike irregulars upon the threatened goal. Mr. Britling's dozen was rapidly losing its disciplined order. One of the sidecar ladies and the gallant Indian had shifted their activities to the defensive back, and with them was a spectacled gentleman waving his stick, high above all recognised rules. Mr. Direck's captain and both Britling boys hurried to join the fray. Mr. Britling, who seemed to Mr. Direck to be for a captain rather too demagogic, also ran back to rally his forces by loud cries. "Pass outwardly!" was the burthen of his contribution. The struggle about the Britling goal ceased to be a game and became something between a fight and a social gathering. Mr. Britling's goal-keeper could be heard shouting, "I can't see the ball! _Lift your feet!_" The crowded conflict lurched towards the goal posts. "My shin!" cried Mr. Manning. "No, you _don't!_" Whack, but again whack! Whack! "Ah! _would_ you?" Whack. "Goal!" cried the side-car gentleman. "Goal!" cried the Britling boys.... Mr. Manning, as goal-keeper, went to recover the ball, but one of the Britling boys politely anticipated him. The crowd became inactive, and then began to drift back to loosely conceived positions. "It's no good swarming into goal like that," Mr. Britling, with a faint asperity in his voice, explained to his followers. "We've got to keep open and not _crowd_ each other." Then he went confidentially to the energetic young Indian to make some restrictive explanation of his activities. Mr. Direck strolled back towards Cecily. He was very warm and a little blown, but not, he felt, disgraced. He was winning. "You'll have to take your coat off," she said. It was a good idea. It had occurred to several people and the boundary line was already dotted with hastily discarded jackets and wraps and so forth. But the lady in the motoring dust coat was buttoning it to the chin. "One goal love," said the minor Britling boy. "We haven't begun yet, Sunny," said Cecily. "Sonny! That's American," said Mr. Direck. "No. We call him Sunny Jim," said Cecily. "They're bullying off again." "Sunny Jim's American too," said Mr. Direck, returning to his place....