A Case for Another Eminent Authority WHEN I buckled on Toddles’ pads I had all the symptoms of a bad attack. I was a trifle dizzy, I was half blind, my heart just seemed to be trying what it could do, while my limbs were equally irresponsible. There was a great jug of cider laid on a table under the trees, and the Optimist would insist on my taking a draught of it, ere I went in to bat. Grace placed her field with consummate care. Everybody was laughing as I took my guard. “Don’t think he’ll stay three minutes,” said Carteret, quite audibly. Had Carteret only known, it was the kind of remark to make me stay three hours. That slice of Anglo-Saxon in my constitution, that I have already had occasion to advertise, objects above all things to be walked over rough-shod. I knit my teeth. I determined to perish or prevail. That moment, though, I should have been very well satisfied had the perishing anticipated itself by occurring there and then. Grace’s bowling was much as I had judged it to be. I knew her hereditary peculiarities would take a terrible amount of negotiating. And they certainly did. The very first ball I turned half round to, with the idea of getting it away to leg, whereon the flight, slow as it was, so deceived me that had it not been for my exceedingly thoughtful and well-trained right leg I should have suffered the humiliation of being clean bowled middle stump. “How’s that?” cried Grace. “Didn’t pitch straight,” said the Rector. I sighed my deep relief. “There she goes,” said T. S. M. from extra cover. “Begins her games at once. If Biffin had been standin’ it would have been ‘Hout, Miss!’ sure as a gun. Lucky for you, Dimsdale.” “Tommy,” said Grace, “will you have the goodness to change places with Toddles at short-leg? Very close in please, Tommy. I’m going to bowl a few half-volleys just outside the leg stick; so you will look out for your face, won’t you? And you won’t funk ’em, will you, Tommy? And young boys shouldn’t be quite so jolly cheeky, should they?”