“Which rendered into modern English means,” said Carteret, who, in his spare time, was a barrister, “that the aim of the Rectory rules is to get the other side out as soon as ever you can, and then keep in yourself until you’ve had enough. That’s about it, Grace, isn’t it?” “No, James,” said that authority; “it’s just where you’re wrong. ’Cause some people never have had enough. I’ve not for one.” “She’s as bad as Ranjy for battin’,” said the Harrow captain. “Set’s shillin’s on her sticks, and tempts Biffin to sweat away at ’em till he’s set up heart disease. Dirt mean, I call it. Ought to be half-crowns for a man his years.” “You’re not likely to give anything heart disease in knocking tips off your sticks, are you, Tommy?” said his sister persuasively. Harrow liked not this at all. Therefore, when a serious flaw in Gloucestershire’s line of argument occurred to T. S. M., his face lit up with a sudden satisfaction. “Perhaps Doctor William Gilbert Grace’ll tell us,” said he, dwelling lovingly on every word, “If accordin’ to the blitherin’ rules a fellow’s out every time he breaks a window, why she don’t go out herself every time she breaks the cucumber frame.” The Harrow captain ended amidst the approving shouts of Middlesex. “That’s amongst your timber, Willy,” said the Rev. Mr. Elphinstone, executing a _pas seul_ in the middle of the pitch. “Oh, is it?” said the dauntless W. G. “You just hold on a bit. A window is a window, and a cucumber frame’s a cucumber frame.” “A Daniel come to judgment,” said Archie, otherwise A. E. Stoddart. “Are there no windows in a cucumber frame then?” “Why o’ course there’s not, Archie--I mean, Stoddy,” said W. G., in a tone that might have been mistaken for intimidation. “’May be wrong, you know,” said Archie; “but in my opinion panes of glass constitute windows, if they’re fixed in a cucumber frame, just as much as though they were in a church.” “Stoddy, _you’re_ talking through your hat,” said W. G. “A window’s a thing to see out of, isn’t it?” “S’pose it is,” said the Middlesex captain. “Well, Stoddy,” said the triumphant W. G., “just you tell us how cucumber frames _can_ have windows _if cucumbers can’t see_.” Great uproar from Gloucester, during which the Rev. Mr. Elphinstone was seen to throw himself full length on the lawn, and roll about in sheer _gaieté de cœur_. Even the dignified features of the Middlesex captain were disturbed by a broad smile. “Doctor,” he said, “they’ll have to make you a baronet yet. Oh, you amusing person!” “She may be a kind of conscientious objector, don’t you know?” cried Carteret, the legal luminary, aiming ineffectual kicks at the rolling curate. “Rather think you’d better give the doctor a certificate of exemption, Stoddy, if Grace’ll swear solemnly on oath that she conscientiously believes that cucumbers really cannot see by any chance or possibility.”