Next ball, however, she took the liberty, as was her arbitrary fashion, of settling the business for herself: Grace deliberately knocked down her wicket. Yes, I repeat it in bald prose: Grace deliberately knocked down her wicket. As a preliminary, she withdrew her bat far away from the ball, evidently in the forlorn hope that she would be bowled outright. But as the ball did not happen to be straight by a good deal, and seeing that so long as she remained in my own erratic trundling constituted a source of danger in itself, therefore did she turn round and reduce the stumps with the back of her bat. “Why, Grace,” demanded the General Public eagerly, “what in thunder are you playing at?” “There’s no declaration law in the Rectory rules,” said Grace. “So a side can’t declare its innings, don’t you see?” “Been inadvertently omitted,” said Charlie. “But what did you want to declare for?” said T. S. M. “You hadn’t won.” “Yes, tell us why you wanted to declare,” said Toddles, with his wickedest expression. Perhaps it was the sun that made Grace so hot and red; but, be that as it may, the fact must be put in history. “’Cause I did,” said Grace. “A feminine reason, I fear,” said the Rector. “Well, I think it’s something like this,” said I, with rather more valour than discretion: “there must be lots of times, don’t you know, when a girl would like to declare, and she can’t declare, because, according to the laws of the game, there’s no rule whereby she can declare. You see it, don’t you?” “Clear as mud,” said Charlie. “She can declare when she can’t declare, and she---- Say it again, old chap. Certain to get the hang of it before the end of the season.” “O’ course, a girl can’t declare, you know, Charlie,” said Grace. “Well, why a girl?” asked Toddles, hiding his face in his cap. “And why should she want to declare? And what is it she wants to declare?” “Depends on what you’re playing at,” said Archie darkly. “I am afraid, gentlemen,” said the Rector, “that you are not entirely familiar with the rules of the game. I think you may safely leave the matter with Laura. I’ve always said that she had more purely technical knowledge than all the rest of us put together.” “Beg pardon, sir,” said Biffin, “but I’ve allus said the very same about Miss Laura. Allus back _her_ opinion, I would. Although, begging pardon, sir, I think she’s fair hout this time.” “Clean bowled, Biffin, I suppose you mean?” said the Rector. “Hout, sir, fair hout!” said that ancient villain, chuckling till the score-book shook. Meantime the Rector was patting his daughter’s cheek. And almost simultaneously some person or persons unknown buffeted me violently in the ribs. My suspicions rested on Toddles. EPILOGUE From _The Morning Post_: