“Yes, isn’t it just stunning!” she cried, while her glowing look announced that her chiefest pleasure was to sing its praises. “Every morning when I look out of my window and hear the birds kicking up a jolly noise in the ivy, and see the dew scooting off the wicket, it seems to come to me all at once, as if I’d never thought of it before, that I live at just the primest place that ever was.” “Isn’t it pretty old?” I said. “Oh, yes,” said she. “Been in our family----” “Since Noah,” T. S. M. rudely interposed. “Now then,” said Toddles, “don’t Harrow your sister’s feelings.” “Been in our family,” Miss Grace continued, ignoring these cursory remarks with fine dignity, “since--since--oh well a long time before cricket was invented. Been some awful swells here, too, at one time and another. Old William Lillywhite once came here to tea. Then one or two other awful pots have lived here--Edmund Spenser, Sir Philip Sydney, Joseph Addison, oh! and the girl who invented round arm bowling.” “And the girl who invented round arm bowlin’!” said the Harrow captain. “Now tell us somethin’ else. The girl who invented round arm bowlin’! Grace, when you get your jaw unshipped it’s a pleasure to sit and listen.” “Yes it was a girl,” said Miss Grace determinedly. “The Guv’nor’s got a picture of her in his portfolio. Her name was Willes. What a good sort she must have been! I just love that girl. I wish she was living now, ’cause then I could jolly well go and hug her for inventing it.” “Miss Willes knew a thing or two, however,” said the Harrow captain, “and took care to die in time.” This was thought to be so undeserved, that the youthful Tom was instantly collared low by the little curate, with all the science, natural and applied, of a three-quarter who had been capped for England twice, and flung into a prickly bush of gooseberries. “In my opinion,” the little parson hastened to remark, in an attempt to divert the public mind from this painful incident, “your place has only one fault, Grace. It’s just a bit too small.” “Oh, no,” said Grace; “I wouldn’t have it different for worlds. I wouldn’t even have a fly knocked off it. What there is is perfect. Always reminds me of you, you know, Toddles--it’s little and good.” “My dear Grace,” said the little curate, bowing over his cap; “my dear Grace, even I, the meanest of your servants! But if you believe that your harrowing youngest brother would benefit in manners by a heavy fall upon his head, pray let me hear you say so.”