“It’s two-seven and a half, sir,” said Archie, with a particularly pleased expression. “It’s a pretty bit o’ wood,” said the old gentleman, with caresses in his tone. “A pretty bit o’ wood. I think I’d like to try it. Laura, just send me one along. Nice and slow, please; my eyesight’s not what it used to be.” This request made his daughter a very proud and happy person. Having instructed Toddles, in imperious language, to recover the ball _at once_ from the library _débris_, and he having instantly obeyed, she said: “All right, father; here you are. Mind the ‘work.’ There’s an awful lot o’ stuff on,” and bowled him one of her very best. This the old gentleman kept out of his wicket stiffly but skilfully. “It strikes me that father can give us all a point or two yet,” said Miss Grace, evidently charmed with the way in which he had defended his wicket. “He’d still be playing for Middlesex if it were not for his eyesight,” said the best bowler in England. “It’s my sciatica, Charlie; it’s my sciatica!” sighed the old gentleman. “When I was your age, my boy, it was different.” The return of Biffin with the tape measure prolonged this interruption to the game. For it was not until old Mr. Trentham had arrived by mensuration at the exact distance of Archie’s drive, that he retired in high good humour to his shattered library. Even then before the game could be resumed there was a legal argument involved. Gloucestershire argued under “Rectory rules” that, in the event of any batsman breaking a window, or hitting a ball over the hedge, or sending it on to the garden twice in one innings, the said batsman should be out. They acted on the expert advice of W. G., who, as the irreverent Toddles said, knew every move on the board, and one or two that were under it. Middlesex disclaimed all knowledge of the clause in question, and T. S. M. even had the audacity to suggest that it was an invention of W. G.’s to suit the present occasion. W. G., of course, very indignantly denied this, and, fortunately for her side, was able by a simple expedient to prove beyond controversy that the attitude of Middlesex was quite inadmissible, and entirely opposed to the best interests of the game. For, running into the house, she triumphantly returned with a dog’s-eared and time-stained exercise book, wherein, under rule seven, duly set forth in a large, round, juvenile hand, it was found that Archie was most certainly out. “Won’t it look a bit queer, though?” said T. S. M. “A. H. Trentham, broke window, bowled W. G. Grace, three?” “He shouldn’t be so reckless,” said W. G. severely. “Besides, it won’t look queerer than A. H. Trentham sent the ball on the garden twice. The idea of Rectory rules is to sit on brute force a bit you know, and to prop--to propa--just wait while I look in the book. Yes, here it is, ‘and to encourage the propagation and cultivation of pure science.’”