two inches inside the ball. The off-stump shot out of the ground.

'Bowled, Sammy,' said Norris from his place in the slips.

The next man was a clergyman, a large man who suggested possibilities
in the way of hitting. But Gosling was irresistible. For three balls
the priest survived. But the last of the over, a fast yorker on the leg
stump, was too much for him, and he retired.

Two for none. The critic in the deck chair felt that the match was as
good as over.

But this idyllic state of things was not to last. The newcomer, a tall
man with a light moustache, which he felt carefully after every ball,
soon settled down. He proved to be a conversationalist. Until he had
opened his account, which he did with a strong drive to the ropes, he
was silent. When, however, he had seen the ball safely to the boundary,
he turned to Reece and began.

'Rather a nice one, that. Eh, what? Yes. Got it just on the right
place, you know. Not a bad bat this, is it? What? Yes. One of Slogbury
and Whangham's Sussex Spankers, don't you know. Chose it myself. Had it
in pickle all the winter. Yes.'

'Play, sir,' from the umpire.

'Eh, what? Oh, right. Yes, good make these Sussex--_Spankers_. Oh,
well fielded.'

At the word spankers he had effected another drive, but Marriott at