key!"
he screamed.

"He opened the door," I said grandly, "and your mother rushed in, and
next moment her Benjamin was in her arms."

There was a pause.

"Barbara," corrected David.

"Benjamin," said I doggedly.

"Is that a girl's name?"

"No, it's a boy's name."

"But mother wants a girl," he said, very much shaken.

"Just like her presumption," I replied testily. "It is to be a boy,
David, and you can tell her I said so."

He was in a deplorable but most unselfish state of mind. A boy would
have suited him quite well, but he put self aside altogether and was
pertinaciously solicitous that Mary should be given her fancy.

"Barbara," he repeatedly implored me.

"Benjamin," I replied firmly.

For long I was obdurate, but the time was summer, and at last I agreed
to play him for it, a two-innings match. If he won it was to be a girl,
and if I won it was to be a boy.

XXV. The Cricket Match

I think there has not been so much on a cricket match since the day when
Sir Horace Mann walked about Broad Ha'penny agitatedly cutting down the
daisies with his stick. And, be it remembered, the heroes of Hambledon
played for money and renown only, while David was champion of a lady. A
lady! May we not prettily say of two ladies? There were no spectators of
our contest except now and again some loiterer in the Gardens who little
thought what was the stake for which we played, but cannot we conceive
Barbara standing at the ropes and agitatedly cutting down the daisies
every time David missed the ball? I tell you, this was the historic
match of the Gardens.

David wanted to play on a pitch near the Round Pond with which he is
familiar, but this would have placed me at a disadvantage, so I insisted
on unaccustomed ground, and we finally pitched stumps in the Figs. We
could not exactly pitch stumps, for they are forbidden in the Gardens,
but there are trees here and there which have chalk-marks on them
throughout the summer, and when you take up your position with a bat
near one of these you have really pitched stumps. The tree we selected
is a ragged yew which consists of a broken trunk and one branch, and
I viewed the ground with secret satisfaction, for it falls slightly
at about four yards' distance from the tree, and this exactly suits my
style of bowling.

I won the toss and after examining the wicket decided to take first
knock. As a rule when we play the wit at first flows free, but on this
occasion I