ame into the field.

Heat and lustre were now poured from the sky, on whose soft blue a fleet
of clouds sailed heavily. Nick Frim was very wonderful, no doubt. He
deserved that the Gods should recline on those gold-edged cushions
above, and lean over to observe him. Nevertheless, the ladies were
beginning to ask when Nick Frim would be out. The small boys alone
preserved their enthusiasm for Nick. As usual, the men took a middle
position. Theirs was the pleasure of critics, which, being founded on
the judgement, lasts long, and is without disappointment at the close.
It was sufficient that the ladies should lend the inspiration of their
bonnets to this fine match. Their presence on the field is another
beautiful instance of the generous yielding of the sex simply to grace
our amusement, and their acute perception of the part they have to play.

Mr. Raikes was rather shy of them at first. But his acting rarely
failing to deceive himself, he began to feel himself the perfectly happy
man he impersonated, and where there were ladies he went, and talked of
days when he had creditably handled a bat, and of a renown in the annals
of Cricket cut short by mysterious calamity. The foolish fellow did
not know that they care not a straw for cricketing fame. His
gaiety presently forsook him as quickly as it had come. Instead of
remonstrating at Evan's restlessness, it was he who now dragged Evan
from spot to spot. He spoke low and nervously.

'We're watched!'

There was indeed a man lurking near and moving as they moved, with a
speculative air. Writs were out against Raikes. He slipped from his
friend, saying:

'Never mind me. That old amphitryon's birthday hangs on till the
meridian; you understand. His table invites. He is not unlikely to enjoy
my conversation. What mayn't that lead to? Seek me there.'

Evan strolled on, relieved by the voluntary departure of the weariful
funny friend he would not shake off, but could not well link with.

A long success is better when seen at a distance of time, and Nick Frim
was beginning to suffer from the monotony of his luck. Fallow field
could do nothing with him. He no longer blocked. He lashed out at every
ball, and far flew every ball that was bowled. The critics saw, in this
return to his old practices, promise of Nick's approaching extinction.
The ladies were growing hot and weary. The little boys gasped on the
grass, but like cunning circulators of excitement, spread a report to