“It’s all right,” she said cheerfully; “Toddles’ll have him. He never drops anything he can get to; and he’s judging this to a ‘T.’ What a height it is, though, and deceptive, too! He’ll have to go back a bit now.” Next instant a derisive howl broke from the crowd. The little parson, famed the whole of England over for his brilliancy and certainty at third man and in the country, having slightly misjudged the flight and height of the catch, had had to go back in a hurry at the last moment, with the result that his hands and body were in a very overbalanced kind of position in which to receive the ball. He had failed to hold it. “Oh, Toddles! Toddles!” cried Miss Grace, in agonized accents; “what _are_ you doing?” The relief of the Optimist and myself was such that we must have hugged one another had we not been in a place so public. Poor Miss Grace, though, was perfectly crimson with mortification, and we could fairly hear the tears in her voice as she said with a sublime pathos, “He’ll get a hundred now!” CHAPTER VII Conversational “I’LL never forgive that wretched Toddles!” said Miss Grace. “It _was_ careless of him. It’s inexcusable for a county man to drop anything. The little brute!” “But, my dear Grace,” said the Optimist, kind soul, who looked at everything from a humanitarian standpoint, “the best men are liable to err.” “They shouldn’t be,” said Miss Grace fiercely, “with the practice they get.” “But human nature is fallible,” urged the Optimist gently. “I don’t care a pin about human nature!” said Miss Grace, more fiercely than ever. “What’s human nature got to do with cricket? Did that miserable Toddles drop that catch, or did he not? It’s simply disgraceful. I hate slovenly fielding.” “It was a very difficult catch, though,” said the Optimist, still doing his best for the fallen favourite. “Awful lot of spin on, and look at the height; besides, the sun was in his eyes, and the flight must have been dreadfully deceptive.” “I don’t care about the spin,” said the inexorable Miss Grace, “or the height, or the flight, or the light, or the sight, or the anything. Toddles ought to have had that catch. Jimmy Douglas ’ud have had it in his mouth. And if your Captain does get a hundred, I’ll give that wretched Toddles such a talking to as he won’t forget in a hurry. You can laugh, Mr. Dimsdale. It’s all right for you: sixty-four and only one wicket down. We can’t afford to give away a leg-bye on a wicket like this.” “But I never saw better ground-fielding than Hickory’s to-day,” said I soothingly. Certainly their fielding as a whole had been excellent.