h. You ought to remember, for I picked up the _Pall
Mall Magazine_ a month later and found you had made copy out of it."

"To be sure," said I. "We discussed cricket, and a number of reputations
then well known, about which the public troubles itself no longer.
Let us try their names upon The Infant here, and discover with how many of
them he is acquainted."

"We discussed," said Verinder, "the vulgarisation of cricket. You made
me say some hard things about it, but be hanged to me if anything I
prophesied then came near to _this_! Listen--

"'I suppose I may say that, after some luck at starting, I played a
pretty good innings: but a total of 240 is poor enough for first
knock on such a wicket as Hove, and, as things stand, the omens are
against us. However, as I write this wire the clouds are gathering,
and there's no denying that a downfall during the night may help our
chances.'"

"What on earth are you reading?" I asked.

"Stay a moment. Here's another--

"'With Jones's wicket down, the opposition declared, somewhat to the
annoyance of the crowd: and indeed, with Robinson set and playing the
prettiest strokes all around the wicket, I must admit that they
voiced a natural disappointment. They had paid their money, and,
after the long period of stonewalling which preceded the tea
interval, a crowded hour of glorious life would have been
exhilarating, and perhaps was no more than their due.
Dickson, however, took his barracking good-humouredly. Towards the
end Jones had twice appealed against the light.'"

"I suppose," said I, "that is how cricket strikes the Yellow Press.
Who are the reporters?"

"The reporters are the captains of two county teams--two first-class
county teams; and they are writing of a match actually in progress at this
moment. Observe A.'s fine sense of loyalty to a captain's duty in his
published opinion that his side is in a bad way. Remark his chivalrous
hope for a sodden wicket to-morrow."

"It is pretty dirty," I agreed.

Verinder snorted. "I once tried to kill a man at mid-on for wearing a
pink shirt. But these fellows! They ought to wear yellow flannels."

"What, by the way, is the tea interval?" I asked.

"It is an interval," answered Verinder seriously, "in which the opposing
captains adjourn to the post office and send telegrams about themselves
and one another."

"Excuse me," put in Sir