“Father’s used to curl in the air, you know,” said his daughter to me proudly. “They’re very scarce. There’s no man now that can make ’em do it quite like the Guv’nor--curl one way and break another. ’Fairly gave the batsman fits. If Charlie could only make ’em do it, he’d be the biggest terror that ever was. Don’t you think so, Father?” “I wouldn’t like to say that,” said the modest old gentleman. Nevertheless there was a tender approval in the eye with which he regarded the very fine fast bowler, who was so busy with his strawberries and cream. “That’s right, sir,” said that young man quite anxiously; “for you really must not encourage Grace in this curl in the air sort o’ rot, you know. Whenever she gets me to herself, she whips a ball out of her pocket and says, ‘Now then, Charlie, let’s have you at it,’ measures twenty-two yards, and keeps me trying to find out those patent swerves of yours for about two hours at a stretch.” “Better be doing that than smoking horrible tobacco, or practising the push stroke, or reading for the law in a pink paper that’s got the starting prices in it,” said his sister sternly. “But I say that the Guv’nor’s leg curl can’t be learnt,” said Charlie. “I say it has to come by nature.” “Well,” said his sister, “I don’t care, Charlie, how you have it come, whether by nature, Pickford’s, or the Parcel Post. But you’ve got to get it, Charlie. Just think of the value of it to England and Middlesex. Why, they’d be playing you to leg and have their middles telescoped like fun wouldn’t they, Father?” “I think that’s how I used to effect ’em occasionally,” said the old gentleman, with a twinkle. “It used to be said that the All England Eleven once called a meeting to discuss how these curly twisters should be played. Some of ’em would lie awake at nights trying to find out the scientific way. But I don’t think they ever did. Once I remember bowling Tom Hayward second ball both innings in one match, and it made poor Tom so sick that they had to put leeches on his head.” “Oh, Mr. Dimsdale,” sighed Miss Grace, “I should like you to have seen old father in his day. That’s why he’s a D.D., you know. Cambridge gave it him for his bowling.” “Really!” I said. “Is that a fact?” “Well,” said the Rector, and I never saw a man look more mischievous, “I don’t _quite_ think it was for my learning.” “Toddles,” said Archie, “Oxford’ll elect you to a fellowship if you did get a Fourth in Mods.” “Laura,” said the Rector, “let me assure you again that I don’t think this curl in the air can be acquired. Therefore, I should recommend you to spend your spare time in more profitable employments. For instance, playing with a perfectly straight bat, or weeding the garden, or trying to read Horace without a crib.” This was Charlie’s opportunity. For a moment that boisterous person seemed mightily inconvenienced by the Homeric laughter that shook his being.