"There you are," I said triumphantly, but my neighbour wouldn't hear of it. "Ole Lees asked to be took off, and ole Dalmeny" (I forget how he pronounced it, but I know it was one of the wrong ways)--"ole Dalmeny told him he'd have to stick on a bit." Now that made a great impression on me, and I agreed with my friend that Dalmeny was in the wrong. "When I am captaining a team," I said, "and one of the bowlers wants to come off, I am always ready to meet him half-way, more than half-way. Better than that, if I have resolved upon any course of action, I always let my team know beforehand; and I listen to their objections in a fair-minded spirit." It was in accordance with this rule of mine that I said casually, as we were changing, "If we win the toss I shall put them in." There was a chorus of protest. "That's right, go it," I said. "Henry objects because, as a first-class cricketer, he is afraid of what _The Sportsman_ will say if we lose. The editor naturally objects--it ruins his chance of being mistaken for a county player if he has to field first. Bolton objects because heavy exercise on a hot day spoils his lunch. Thompson objects because that's the way he earns his living at the Bar. His objection is merely technical, and is reserved as a point of law for the Court of Crown Cases Reserved. Markham is a socialist and objects to authority. Also he knows he's got to field long-leg both ends. Gerald----" "But why?" said Henry. "Because I want you all to see the wicket first. Then you can't say you weren't warned." Whereupon I went out and lost the toss. As we walked into the field the editor told me a very funny story. I cannot repeat it here for various reasons. First, it has nothing to do with cricket; and, secondly, it is, I understand, coming out in his next number, and I should probably get into trouble. Also it is highly technical, and depends largely for its success upon adequate facial expression. But it amused me a good deal. Just as he got to the exciting part, Thompson came up. "Do you mind if I go cover?" he asked. "Do," I said abstractedly. "And what did the vicar say?" The editor chuckled. "Well, you see, the vicar, knowing, of course, that----" "Cover, I suppose," said Gerald, as he caught us up. "What? Oh yes, please. The vicar did know, did he?" "Oh, the vicar _knew_. That's really the whole point." I shouted with laughter. "Good, isn't it?" said the editor. "Well, then----" "Have you got a cover?" came Markham's voice from behind us. I turned round. "Oh, Markham," I said, "I shall want you cover, if you don't mind. Sorry--I must tell these men where to go--well, then, you were saying----" The editor continued the story. We were interrupted once or twice, but he finished it just as their first two men came out. I particularly liked that bit about the---- "Jove," I said suddenly, "we haven't got a wicket-keeper. That's always the way. Can you keep?" I asked the editor.