high
or low.'

'Yes, but, my lady, a tailor!' Maria repeated, and the Countess,
agreeing with her scorn as she did, could have killed her. At least she
would have liked to run a bodkin into her, and make her scream. In
her position she could not always be Charity itself: nor is this the
required character for a high-born dame: so she rarely affected it.

'Order a fly: discover the direction Mr. Harrington has taken; spare me
further remarks,' she said; and Maria humbly flitted from her presence.

When she was gone, the Countess covered her face with her hands. 'Even
this creature would despise us!' she exclaimed.

The young lady encountered by Mr. Raikes on the road to Fallow field,
was wrong in saying that Beckley would be seen out before the shades of
evening caught up the ball. Not one, but two men of Beckley--the last
two--carried out their bats, cheered handsomely by both parties. The
wickets pitched in the morning, they carried them in again, and plaudits
renewed proved that their fame had not slumbered. To stand before a
field, thoroughly aware that every successful stroke you make is adding
to the hoards of applause in store for you is a joy to your friends, an
exasperation to your foes; I call this an exciting situation, and one
as proud as a man may desire. Then, again, the two last men of an
eleven are twins: they hold one life between them; so that he who dies
extinguishes the other. Your faculties are stirred to their depths. You
become engaged in the noblest of rivalries: in defending your own, you
fight for your comrade's existence. You are assured that the dread of
shame, if not emulation, is making him equally wary and alert.

Behold, then, the two bold men of Beckley fighting to preserve one life.
Under the shadow of the downs they stand, beneath a glorious day, and
before a gallant company. For there are ladies in carriages here,
there are cavaliers; good county names may be pointed out. The sons of
first-rate families are in the two elevens, mingled with the yeomen
and whoever can best do the business. Fallow field and Beckley, without
regard to rank, have drawn upon their muscle and science. One of the
bold men of Beckley at the wickets is Nick Frim, son of the gamekeeper
at Beckley Court; the other is young Tom Copping, son of Squire Copping,
of Dox Hall, in the parish of Beckley. Last year, you must know, Fallow
field beat. That is why Nick Frim, a renowned out-hitter, good to finish
a score