The best bowler in England climbed up on to the roof. “Now then, Grace,” said he briskly. “Keep ’em from that fizz. Two of your beef-slabs round, mind, before that’s touched. That’s for dessert. Brightside, I should recommend you to stick to Caley. I’m certain to bowl you neck and heels if you don’t.” “Same as you’ve been serving ’em this morning,” said Miss Grace. “Don’t be rude, Grace,” said he. “But give me a sandwich. Oh, I say, and do you see which fizz you’ve brought? Whew! won’t there be a row! You know that the Guv’nor particularly said it was not to be touched.” “Well, Charlie, now,” said his sister, “do you think I’d bring that sugary stuff to give to pretty nearly a county team?--one of ’em going out with Stoddy, too. But the Guv.’s an awful good sort, and I’m sure he’ll see it in a proper light when I explain to him that I couldn’t possibly give that horrid what-do-you-call-it to a team like we’ve got to-day. Besides, he’d only have let the Bishop and the Rural Dean have had it. I’ll take good care they don’t get it, though. Let ’em stick to their port. Never saw such a pair of old muffs in my life. ’Don’t know a bat from a bagpipe!” Then, as she distributed a napkinful of the solidest beef sandwiches I ever saw, she continued with manifest perplexity: “Do you know that I can never understand on what principle they go on in the Church to get their preferment. There’s Toddles, now. Look at Toddles. ’Got his Blue, plays for Kent and the Gentlemen, and his cutting’s simply marvellous, and yet he’s just a common curate. And then there’s my old Guv’nor. ’Don’t want to boast, but my old Guv’nor’s---- Well, look what Lillywhite says about him. He’d play the whole Dean and Chapter left hand with a toothpick, and yet _he_ don’t wear gaiters. ’Can’t reckon it up at all. Don’t it seem ridiculous? ’specially when you come to think of the set of old duffers who do.” “Grace, don’t be libellous,” said the best bowler in England, with a face of keen enjoyment. “Drop your jaw and look sharp with those glasses.” “May I participate in this pleasant function?” said a meek voice. The little parson clambered on to the roof and smiled into our midst. “Toddles!” cried Miss Grace, with a flashing eye. “How dare you! Don’t you show your face here, you--you--you little curate! Aren’t you thoroughly ashamed?” “My dear Grace, I have no words in which to express my penitence,” said the little parson, in a broken tone; but as he looked at us his face had such a twinkle in it that I’m sure he must have been a master of deceit. “Oh, you haven’t!” said Miss Grace scornfully. “Well, Toddles, it’s lucky for you that you made that score against Notts yesterday. One can’t say exactly what’s in one’s mind to a man who’s just made a score like that. Say you’re sorry, Toddles, and I’ll forgive you.” “Oh, Grace! how magnanimous you are!” cried the little parson, in throbbing accents. “I can assure you that time only will assuage my sorrow!”