batting at
the pergola end, giving us an exhibition of his famous scoop shot,
which landed full pitch through the drawing-room window. It was a
catastrophe of such dimensions that even the boldest spirit quailed
before it, and the Colonel's butler, batting at the other end,
immediately dissociated himself from the proceedings and bolted from
the field.

Kippy, as befitted a warrior of parts, was the first to recover.

"'Ere," he exclaimed, "we carn't 'ave this; wot do you think the
Colonel will say?"

I do not suppose there was anyone who had not thought of it.

"We got to 'ave fresh rules," Kippy continued. "Anyone breaking a
winder 'as to retire, mend the winder, and 'is side loses ten runs."
Only a super mind could in the time have framed a punishment so
convincingly deterrent.

The scoop shot from the pergola end was ruled out in a sentence, and
we were treated to a masterly and Jessopian demonstration of how to
get an off ball past square-leg.

But no completely efficient form of organisation can be encompassed in
an hour, nor can man legislate for the unknown factor.

In this case Kippy was not aware that, on the far side of the
shrubbery, against an ancient sun-bathed wall, stood the greenhouse
which sheltered the Colonel's prize grapes. And so Jim Butcher,
playing this time from the rockery end, brought off the double event
and caused another new clause to be added to the local rules. With
thirty-seven to his credit and still undefeated he was making history
in the village, though it must be admitted that no one was ever less
anxious to retain the post of honour, and when the gardener laid out
the damaged fruit nothing short of Kippy's appeal would have persuaded
him to continue his innings.

"Wot, retire jest when you're gettin' popler an' can't do no more
'arm an' I've sent off the 'ole brigade of scouts ter spread the noos,
'Jessop thirty, not out, an' 'arf the Colonel's winders napooed.' Wy,
the 'ole blinkin' county will be 'ere as soon as they know wot's goin'
on." Kippy leant forward confidentially, "An' them Serbian boxes 'as
got ter be filled some'ow." It was an irresistible argument, and Jim
Butcher continued his innings under slightly restricted conditions.

At 6.50, with ten minutes to play, the Convalescents, who had shown
great form, required only twelve runs to win the match. Kippy and
Gunner Toady shared the batting. A pretty glance to leg for two by
the Gunner was all that could be t