13
It was, I remember, a perfectly glorious summer morning. One’s thoughts instinctively flew to the whirr of the mowing machine and a real plumb wicket. The insects hummed in the sun, and there was a murmur of bees that gave everybody a feeling that an English summer morning in Sussex could give anything in Creation a start and a beating.

“Toppin’ mornin’—what?” said Prescott. “Feel like gettin’ some more to-day, if we bat.”

“You won’t,” said Dick Arkwright. “You’ll field, and this big brute of a 동탄오피 Bill can get rid of some of his disgraceful paunch. He hasn’t had much exercise all the week. Exceptin’ of course walkin’ back to the pavilion.”

“Feeling funny, aren’t you?” I sallied back. “And as for ‘big brutes’ and ‘paunches,’ neither you nor Prescott has a lot to telegraph home about.”

Actually I was about a couple of inches taller than either of them and decidedly heavier.

“Anybody of the old crowd playing for the Rovers, Jack?” queried Helen.