The Holiday Round | Page 9

Sarah, a jolly girl of sixteen (found by me and Thomas
in the tobacconist's, where she was buying The Sportsman).
"Where would you all like to field?" asked the captain.
"Let's stand round in groups, just at the start, and then see where we're
wanted. Who's going to bowl?"

"Me and Samuel. I wonder if I dare bowl over-hand."
"I'm going to," said Simpson.
"You can't, not with your left hand."
"Why not? Hirst does."
"Then I shan't field point," said Thomas with decision.
However, as it happened, it was short leg who received the first two
balls, beautiful swerving wides, while the next two were well caught
and returned by third man. Simpson's range being thus established, he
made a determined attack on the over proper with lobs, and managed to
wipe off half of it. Encouraged by this, he returned with such success to
overhand that the very next ball got into the analysis, the batsman
reaching out and hitting it over the hedge for six. Two more
range-finders followed before Simpson scored another dot with a sneak;
and then, at what should have been the last ball, a tragedy occurred.
"Wide," said the umpire.
"But--but I was b-bowling UNDERHAND," stammered Simpson.
"Now you've nothing to fall back on," I pointed out.
Simpson considered the new situation. "Then you fellows can't mind if
I go on with overhand," he said joyfully, and he played his twelfth.
It was the batsman's own fault. Like a true gentleman he went after the
ball, caught it up near point, and hit it hard in the direction of cover.
Sarah shot up a hand unconcernedly.
"One for six," said Simpson, and went over to Miss Debenham to
explain how he did it.
"He must come off," said Archie. "We have a reputation to keep up. It's
his left hand, of course, but we can't go round to all the spectators and
explain that he can really bowl quite decent long hops with his right."

In the next over nothing much happened, except that Miss Debenham
missed a sitter. Subsequently Simpson caught her eye from another part
of the field, and explained telegraphically to her how she should have
drawn her hands in to receive the ball. The third over was entrusted to
Sarah.
"So far," said Dahlia, half an hour later, "the Rabbits have not shone.
Sarah is doing it all."
"Hang it, Dahlia, Thomas and I discovered the child. Give the credit
where it is due."
"Well, why don't you put my Bobby on, then? Boys are allowed to play
right-handed, you know."
So Bobby went on, and with Sarah's help finished off the innings.
"Jolly good rot," he said to Simpson, "you're having to bowl
left-handed."
"My dear Robert," I said, "Mr Simpson is a natural base-ball pitcher, he
has an acquired swerve at bandy, and he is a lepidopterist of
considerable charm. But he can't bowl with either hand."
"Coo!" said Bobby.
The allies came out even more strongly when we went in to bat. I was
the only Rabbit who made ten, and my whole innings was played in an
atmosphere of suspicion very trying to a sensitive man. Mrs Oakley
was in when I took guard, and I played out the over with great care,
being morally bowled by every ball. At the end of it a horrible thought
occurred to me: I had been batting right-handed! Naturally I changed
round for my next ball. (Movements of surprise.)
"Hallo," said the wicket-keeper, "I thought you were left-handed; why
aren't you playing right?"
"No, I'm really right-handed," I said. "I played that way by mistake just

now. Sorry."
He grunted sceptically, and the bowler came up to have things
explained to her. The next ball I hit left-handed for six. (LOUD
MUTTERS.)
"Is he really right-handed?" the bowler asked Mrs Oakley.
"I don't know," she said, "I've never seen him before." (SENSATION.)
"I think, if you don't mind, we'd rather you played right-handed."
"Certainly." The next ball was a full pitch, and I took a right-handed six.
There was an awful hush. I looked round at the field and prepared to
run for it. I felt that they suspected me of all the undiscovered crimes of
the year.
"Look here," I said, nearly crying, "I'll play any way you like--sideways,
or upside down, or hanging on to the branch of a tree, or--"
The atmosphere was too much for me. I trod on my wickets, burst into
tears, and bolted to the tent.
. . . . . . .
"Well," said Dahlia, "we won."
"Yes," we all agreed, "we won."
"Even if we didn't do much of it ourselves," Simpson pointed out, "we
had jolly good fun."
"We always have THAT," said Myra.

THE HOUSE-WARMING
I.--WORK FOR ALL

"Well," said