Tom was one of those boys who, being fairly quick and clever, think they
know everything and can do everything without being taught. Now, however
quick and clever a boy or girl may be, this is a great mistake, because
it is wiser and safer to profit by the experience of an older person
than to learn by one's own experience. But Tom always knew beforehand
anything that his father or mother could tell him; and the result was
that he often found himself in the wrong, and more than once suffered
for his conceit and self-sufficiency.
Tom had lived in London all his life, with only occasional visits to the
seaside and a few days in the country at Christmas, when his father and
mother usually went on a visit to his uncle's house at Felford. He was
therefore much excited when at breakfast one morning, just after the
Midsummer holidays had begun, his mother handed a letter across the
table to her husband, asking, "What do you think of _that_?"
Tom's quick eyes saw that the writing was his uncle's. He watched, and
saw his father and mother both glance at him.
"Well, Tom, I see you have your suspicions about this letter," said his
father; "and you are right. It _does_ concern you. Your uncle has asked
you to go to Felford. Your aunt and the little ones will be away; but
your uncle will be at home, and Allan will be there to keep you company.
Now, do you think you can be trusted to go alone, and not give your
uncle any trouble, or lead Allan into mischief?"
"Why, of course, Father!" Tom answered readily.
"I am sorry to say there is no 'of course' in the matter; but you can
try this once, and I hope it may be as you say. But you must remember
that your uncle is very strict, and that you will not be allowed"--
"Oh, I know!" said Tom, but his father stopped him.
"If you say that to me again I shall not let you go to your uncle's. If
you know so well, you ought to practise what you know, and give less
anxiety to your mother and me."
At last the day came. His father saw him off at the station; and, after
a journey of two hours, Tom arrived at the Felford station, and found
his uncle's wagon had come to meet him, and Allan was in it. The boys
had much to say to each other; for they had not met for some months, and
were always good friends, Allan being only eight months younger than
Tom. Allan had much to tell of their plans for enjoyment while Tom was
at Felford, and among other pleasant things, there was to be a village
cricket match, in which Allan was to play.
"And you, too, Tom," he said, for he never doubted his cousin's powers.
"It won't be a very grand match, you see, but it will be capital fun,
and the boys play"--
"Oh, I know!" said Tom.
"All right: that will be capital," said Allan; and Tom, who had never
held a bat in his life, found himself engaged to play in the match.
"But I shall find it quite easy," he thought. "I've seen it played, and
the boys at school seem to find it simple enough."
His uncle was out riding when Tom reached Felford, having had business
to attend to, so the boys at once went out into the garden and inspected
the scene of the future cricket match.
Tom looked at it a moment, then visions of Lords came before him, and he
said decidedly, "It wants rolling dreadfully!"
"Father said it was too dry to roll," said Allan, in rather a melancholy
tone. "You see, if"--
"Oh, I know!" interrupted Tom; "but we might try to roll it ourselves,
don't you know. That would be fun, and it would surprise him. Is there a
roller anywhere?"
"Yes, the small garden-roller; but Father said"--
"Oh, I know!" said Tom impatiently. "Let us fetch it."
Allan said no more. It was clear that Tom did not intend to listen to
anything he had to say.
"Do you know how to use the roller?" asked Allan.
"I should hope so! Any one must know that," said Tom; and away they went
to fetch it.
Now, there is a right way and a wrong way to do everything, and a
garden-roller should be _pulled_ and not _pushed_, but this Tom did not
understand; therefore, he set to work with Allan to push the roller
through the garden towards the field, while Twinkle, the fox-terrier,
followed at their heels.
A garden-roller is an awkward thing to manage if you don't understand
it. The iron handle is heavily weighted, and if pressed down and then
released it springs up with great force, owing to the weight with which
it is balanced.
Tom knew nothing of this; and Allan had never been allowed to touch the
roller, so he was as ignorant as Tom. They had paused to draw breath,
when Twinkle's bark of delight made Allan exclaim, "There's Father!"
At that moment Tom took his arms off the iron handle on which they had
been resting, and the handle sprang up. There was a cry from Allan, and
Tom saw to his horror that one end of the iron bar had struck the boy
just above the eye. It was a painful blow, and the bruise began at once
to discolor and swell, so that by the time his father came up poor Allan
was a piteous object.
It was a most unfortunate beginning to Tom's visit. Of course his uncle
was angry, for the garden-roller was quite useless for the purpose of
rolling the field, and the ground was so hard and dry that no rolling,
even with the heaviest horse-roller, would have done any good. Allan
was very sorry for Tom, and took more than a fair share of the blame,
saying he ought to have been more careful; but he was rather distressed
when he found that he had a black eye, and that it could not be well
before the cricket match, when the boys would be sure to chaff him.
This exploit of Tom's and his uncle's anger made the boy more careful;
and all went well until the day before the cricket match, when Tom and
Allan went out for a private practice in the field.
"You aren't standing right. Your leg's before the wicket," said Allan,
as Tom stood ready, bat in hand, to receive the ball.
"Oh, I know! but it's only for practice," said Tom quickly. "Send me the
ball."
Allan bowled, Tom hit, the ball spun straight up in the air and came
down almost at Tom's feet.
"Hullo!" said Allan, pointing to the stumps; "how did you do that?"
Tom looked round and found he had knocked over the stumps. This slight
mistake having been set right, Tom was ready to start again. This time,
as the ball spun off his bat, there was a crash, and Allan exclaimed in
horror, "Oh, Father's precious orchids!" for the ball had gone through
the glass of the small greenhouse, and had overturned and injured
several cherished plants.
Poor Tom thought he had had enough of cricket for that day, and went in
to make his confession to his uncle. Allan's piteous face did more
towards softening his father than Tom's regrets, and he said very
little about the matter, though possibly he felt the more.
The next day the cricket match came off. Tom very soon found that in
playing it was necessary to have done something more than look on. He
knew little or nothing of the rules of the game, and brought disgrace on
himself, and on his cousin for having introduced so bad a player into
the village eleven. Had there been any one to take his place he would
have been turned out in spite of anything Allan could say, but as it was
they were obliged to put up with him.
When Tom went in, his first action was to put himself out, amid the
hootings of fury and amusement of the rest of the party. Even Allan was
getting cross with him.
When the other side went in again, Tom made more effort to follow the
game and catch the ball; but he knew nothing of cricket, and was wearing
his ordinary walking-boots. The grass was dry and slippery, and Tom was
clumsy. He was chasing the ball, and thought he should really succeed in
catching it this time, when his foot slipped and he fell heavily on the
grass. He had broken his leg!
The boys who had laughed before were now full of sympathy. He was at
once taken into the house and the doctor sent for. What poor Tom
suffered for the rest of that day and all the night, only those who have
broken a leg can tell, and added to his pain was the feeling that he had
shown all Allan's friends what a boastful fellow he was.
[Illustration: Pride Goes Before A Fall.]
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