good time; and the sight cheered Bobby's
wavering courage as nothing else could. His vague ideas of retreat were
discarded.

But he did not know how to approach. The children inside the low rail
fence were placing the brilliantly-striped wooden balls in a row in
order to determine by 'pinking' at the stake who should have the
advantageous last shot. Bobby, irresolute, halted outside, shifting
uneasily, wanting to join the group, but withheld by the unwonted
bashfulness. Amid shouts and exclamations each clicked his mallet
against his ball, and immediately ran forward with the greatest
eagerness to see how near the stake he had come. At last the group
formed close. A moment's dispute cleared. Celia had won, and now stood
erect, her cheeks flushing, her eyes dancing with triumph. In so doing
she caught sight of Bobby hesitating outside.

"Why, there's Bobby!" she cried. "Come on in, Bobby, and play!"

At the sound of her voice, all his timidity vanished. He entered boldly
and joined the others.

"This is Bobby," announced Celia by way of general introduction, "and
this," she continued, turning to Bobby, "is Gerald, and Morris, and
Kitty and Margaret."

"Hullo," said Morris, "Grab a mallet, and come on."

Bobby liked Morris, who was a short, redheaded boy of jolly aspect.
Gerald, a youth of perhaps twelve years of age, rather tall and slender,
of very dark, clear, pale complexion, nodded carelessly. Bobby took an
immediate distaste for him. He looked altogether too superior, and
sleepy and distinguished--yes, and stylish. Bobby was very young and
inexperienced; but even he could feel that Gerald's round straw hat, and
norfolk-cut jacket, and neat, loose, short trousers buckled at the knee
contrasted a little more than favourably with his own chip hat, blue
blouse and tight breeches. Also he was already dusty, while Gerald was
immaculate.

As to Kitty and Margaret, they were nice, neat, clean, pretty little
girls--but not like Celia!

Bobby found a mallet and ball in the long wooden case, and joined the
game. He was not skilful at it, and soon fell behind the others in the
progress through the wickets. Indeed, when, after two strokes, he had at
last gained position for the "middle arch," he met Gerald coming the
other way. Gerald shot for his ball; hit it; and then, with a disdainful
air, knocked Bobby away out of bounds across the lawn. This was quite
within the rules, but it made Bobby angry just the same. As he