We came back from a "Men Only" sail to find Myra bubbling over with
excitement.
"I've got some news for you," she said, "but I'm not going to tell
you till dinner. Be quick and change."
"Bother, she's going to get married," I murmured.
Myra gurgled and drove us off.
"Put on all your medals and orders, Thomas," she called up the
stairs; "and, Archie, it's a champagne night."
"I believe, old fellow," said Simpson, "she's married already."
Half an hour later we were all ready for the news.
"Just a moment, Myra," said Archie. "I'd better warn you that we're
expecting a good deal, and that if you don't live up to the
excitement you've created, you'll be stood in the corner for the
rest of dinner."
"She's quite safe," said Dahlia.
"Of course I am. Well, now I'm going to begin. This morning, about
eleven, I went and had a bathe, and I met another girl in the sea."
"Horribly crowded the sea is getting nowadays," commented Archie.
"And she began to talk about what a jolly day it was and so on, and
I gave her my card--I mean I said, 'I'm Myra Mannering.' And she
said, 'I'm sure you're keen on cricket.'"
"I like the way girls talk in the sea," said Archie. "So direct."
"What is there about our Myra," I asked, "that stamps her as a
cricketer, even when she's only got her head above water?"
"She'd seen me on land, silly. Well, we went on talking, and at last
she said, 'Will you play us at mixed cricket on Saturday?' And a big
wave came along and went inside me just as I was saying yes."
"Hooray! Myra, your health."
"We're only six, though," added Archie. "Didn't you swim up against
anybody else who looked like a cricketer and might play for us?"
"But we can easily pick up five people by Saturday," said Myra
confidently. "And oh, I do hope we're in form; we haven't played for
years."
. . . . . . .
We lost the toss, and Myra led her team out on to the field. The
last five places in the eleven had been filled with care: a
preparatory school-boy and his little sister (found by Dahlia on the
beach), Miss Debenham (found by Simpson on the road with a punctured
bicycle), Mrs Oakley (found by Archie at the station and
re-discovered by Myra in the Channel), and Sarah, a jolly girl of
sixteen (found by me and Thomas in the tobacconist's, where she was
buying The Sportsman).
"Where would you all like to field?" asked the captain.
"Let's stand round in groups, just at the start, and then see where
we're wanted. Who's going to bowl?"
"Me and Samuel. I wonder if I dare bowl over-hand."
"I'm going to," said Simpson.
"You can't, not with your left hand."
"Why not? Hirst does."
"Then I shan't field point," said Thomas with decision.
However, as it happened, it was short leg who received the first two
balls, beautiful swerving wides, while the next two were well caught
and returned by third man. Simpson's range being thus established,
he made a determined attack on the over proper with lobs, and
managed to wipe off half of it. Encouraged by this, he returned with
such success to overhand that the very next ball got into the
analysis, the batsman reaching out and hitting it over the hedge for
six. Two more range-finders followed before Simpson scored another
dot with a sneak; and then, at what should have been the last ball,
a tragedy occurred.
"Wide," said the umpire.
"But--but I was b-bowling UNDERHAND," stammered Simpson.
"Now you've nothing to fall back on," I pointed out.
Simpson considered the new situation. "Then you fellows can't mind
if I go on with overhand," he said joyfully, and he played his
twelfth.
It was the batsman's own fault. Like a true gentleman he went after
the ball, caught it up near point, and hit it hard in the direction
of cover. Sarah shot up a hand unconcernedly.
"One for six," said Simpson, and went over to Miss Debenham to
explain how he did it.
"He must come off," said Archie. "We have a reputation to keep up.
It's his left hand, of course, but we can't go round to all the
spectators and explain that he can really bowl quite decent long
hops with his right."
In the next over nothing much happened, except that Miss Debenham
missed a sitter. Subsequently Simpson caught her eye from another
part of the field, and explained telegraphically to her how she
should have drawn her hands in to receive the ball. The third over
was entrusted to Sarah.
"So far," said Dahlia, half an hour later, "the Rabbits have not
shone. Sarah is doing it all."
"Hang it, Dahlia, Thomas and I discovered the child. Give the credit
where it is due."
"Well, why don't you put my Bobby on, then? Boys are allowed to play
right-handed, you know."
So Bobby went on, and with Sarah's help finished off the innings.
"Jolly good rot," he said to Simpson, "you're having to bowl
left-handed."
"My dear Robert," I said, "Mr Simpson is a natural base-ball
pitcher, he has an acquired swerve at bandy, and he is a
lepidopterist of considerable charm. But he can't bowl with either
hand."
"Coo!" said Bobby.
The allies came out even more strongly when we went in to bat. I was
the only Rabbit who made ten, and my whole innings was played in an
atmosphere of suspicion very trying to a sensitive man. Mrs Oakley
was in when I took guard, and I played out the over with great care,
being morally bowled by every ball. At the end of it a horrible
thought occurred to me: I had been batting right-handed! Naturally I
changed round for my next ball. (Movements of surprise.)
"Hallo," said the wicket-keeper, "I thought you were left-handed;
why aren't you playing right?"
"No, I'm really right-handed," I said. "I played that way by mistake
just now. Sorry."
He grunted sceptically, and the bowler came up to have things
explained to her. The next ball I hit left-handed for six. (LOUD
MUTTERS.)
"Is he really right-handed?" the bowler asked Mrs Oakley.
"I don't know," she said, "I've never seen him before." (SENSATION.)
"I think, if you don't mind, we'd rather you played right-handed."
"Certainly." The next ball was a full pitch, and I took a
right-handed six. There was an awful hush. I looked round at the
field and prepared to run for it. I felt that they suspected me of
all the undiscovered crimes of the year.
"Look here," I said, nearly crying, "I'll play any way you
like--sideways, or upside down, or hanging on to the branch of a
tree, or--"
The atmosphere was too much for me. I trod on my wickets, burst into
tears, and bolted to the tent.
. . . . . . .
"Well," said Dahlia, "we won."
"Yes," we all agreed, "we won."
"Even if we didn't do much of it ourselves," Simpson pointed out,
"we had jolly good fun."
"We always have THAT," said Myra.