"I am afraid that we are going to be beaten, madam," he said dolefully. "Nesborough made a hundred and ninety-eight, and we have six wickets down for fifty." Wilhelmina seemed scarcely to realize the tragedy which his words unfolded. "I suppose they are the stronger team, aren't they?" she remarked. "They ought to be. Nesborough is quite a large town." "We have beaten them regularly until the last two years," Mr. Hurd answered. "We should beat them now but for their fast bowler, Mills. I don't know how it is, but our men will not stand up to him." "Perhaps they are afraid of being hurt," Wilhelmina suggested innocently. "If that is he bowling now, I'm sure I don't wonder at it." Mr. Hurd frowned. "We don't have men in the eleven who are afraid of getting hurt," he remarked stiffly. A shout of dismay from the onlookers, a smothered exclamation from Mr. Hurd, and a man was seen on his way to the pavilion. His wickets were spreadeagled, and the ball was being tossed about the field. "Another wicket!" the agent exclaimed testily. "Crooks played all round that ball!" "Isn't that your son going in, Mr. Hurd?" Wilhelmina asked. "Yes! Stephen is in now," his father answered. "If he gets out, the match is over." "Who is the other batsman?" Deyes asked. "Antill, the second bailiff," Mr. Hurd answered. "He's captain, and he can stay in all day, but he can't make runs." They all leaned forward to witness the continuation of the match. Stephen Hurd's career was brief and inglorious. He took guard and looked carefully round the field with the air of a man who is going to give trouble. Then he saw the victoria, with its vision of parasols and fluttering laces, and the sight was fatal to him. He slogged wildly at the first ball, missed it, and paid the penalty. The lady in the carriage frowned, and Mr. Hurd muttered something under his breath as he watched his son on the way back to the tent. "I'm afraid it's all up with us now," he remarked. "We have only three more men to go in." "Then we are going to be beaten," Wilhelmina remarked. "I'm afraid so," Mr. Hurd assented gloomily. The next batsman had issued from the tent and was on his way to the wicket. Wilhelmina, who had been about to give an order to the footman, watched him curiously. "Who is that going in?" she asked abruptly. Mr. Hurd was looking not altogether comfortable. "It is the young man who wanted to preach," he answered. Wilhelmina frowned. "Why is he playing?" she asked. "He has nothing to do with Thorpe." "He came down to see them practise a few evenings ago, and Antill asked him," the agent answered. "If I had known earlier I would have stopped it."