is a score that takes some making on any ground, but on
a fine day it was not an unusual total for the Wrykyn eleven. Some
years before, against Ripton, they had run up four hundred and
sixteen; and only last season had massacred a very weak team of Old
Wrykynians with a score that only just missed the fourth hundred.

Unfortunately, on the present occasion, there was scarcely time,
unless the bowling happened to get completely collared, to make the
runs. It was a quarter to four when the innings began, and stumps were
to be drawn at a quarter to seven. A hundred an hour is quick work.

Burgess, however, was optimistic, as usual. "Better have a go for
them," he said to Berridge and Marsh, the school first pair.

Following out this courageous advice, Berridge, after hitting three
boundaries in his first two overs, was stumped half-way through the
third.

After this, things settled down. Morris, the first-wicket man, was a
thoroughly sound bat, a little on the slow side, but exceedingly hard
to shift. He and Marsh proceeded to play themselves in, until it
looked as if they were likely to stay till the drawing of stumps.

A comfortable, rather somnolent feeling settled upon the school. A
long stand at cricket is a soothing sight to watch. There was an
absence of hurry about the batsmen which harmonised well with the
drowsy summer afternoon. And yet runs were coming at a fair pace. The
hundred went up at five o'clock, the hundred and fifty at half-past.
Both batsmen were completely at home, and the M.C.C. third-change
bowlers had been put on.

Then the great wicket-keeper took off the pads and gloves, and the
fieldsmen retired to posts at the extreme edge of the ground.

"Lobs," said Burgess. "By Jove, I wish I was in."

It seemed to be the general opinion among the members of the Wrykyn
eleven on the pavilion balcony that Morris and Marsh were in luck. The
team did not grudge them their good fortune, because they had earned
it; but they were distinctly envious.

Lobs are the most dangerous, insinuating things in the world.
Everybody knows in theory the right way to treat them. Everybody knows
that the man who is content not to try to score more than a single
cannot get out to them. Yet nearly everybody does get out to them.

It was the same story to-day. The first over yielded six runs, all
through gentle taps along the ground. In the second, Marsh hit an
over-pitched one along the ground to the terrace bank. T