I think there has not been so much on a cricket match since theday when Sir Horace Mann walked about Broad Ha'penny agitatedlycutting down the daisies with his stick. And, be it remembered,the heroes of Hambledon played for money and renown only, whileDavid was champion of a lady. A lady! May we not prettily sayof two ladies? There were no spectators of our contest exceptnow and again some loiterer in the Gardens who little thoughtwhat was the stake for which we played, but cannot we conceiveBarbara standing at the ropes and agitatedly cutting down thedaisies every time David missed the ball? I tell you, this wasthe historic match of the Gardens.

David wanted to play on a pitch near the Round Pond with which heis familiar, but this would have placed me at a disadvantage, soI insisted on unaccustomed ground, and we finally pitched stumpsin the Figs. We could not exactly pitch stumps, for they areforbidden in the Gardens, but there are trees here and therewhich have chalk-marks on them throughout the summer, and whenyou take up your position with a bat near one of these you havereally pitched stumps. The tree we selected is a ragged yewwhich consists of a broken trunk and one branch, and I viewed theground with secret satisfaction, for it falls slightly at aboutfour yards' distance from the tree, and this exactly suits mystyle of bowling.

I won the toss and after examining the wicket decided to takefirst knock. As a rule when we play the wit at first flows free,but on this occasion I strode to the crease in an almost eeriesilence. David had taken off his blouse and rolled up his shirt-sleeves, and his teeth were set, so I knew he would begin bysending me down some fast ones.

His delivery is underarm and not inelegant, but he sometimestries a round-arm ball, which I have seen double up the fielderat square leg. He has not a good length, but he varies hisaction bewilderingly, and has one especially teasing ball whichfalls from the branches just as you have stepped out of yourground to look for it. It was not, however, with his teaser thathe bowled me that day. I had notched a three and two singles,when he sent me down a medium to fast which got me in two mindsand I played back to it too late. Now, I am seldom out on areally grassy wicket for such a meagre score, and as David and Ichanged places without a word, there was a cheery look on hisface that I found very galling. He ran in to my second ball andcut it neatly to the on for a single, and off my fifth and sixthhe had two pretty drives for three, both behind the wicket. This, however, as I hoped, proved the undoing of him, for he nowhit out confidently at everything, and with his score at nine Ibeat him with my shooter.

The look was now on my face.

I opened my second innings by treating him with uncommon respect,for I knew that his little arm soon tired if he was unsuccessful,and then when he sent me loose ones I banged him to the railings.What cared I though David's lips were twitching.

When he ultimately got past my defence, with a jumpy one whichbroke awkwardly from the off, I had fetched twenty-three so thathe needed twenty to win, a longer hand than he had ever yet made.As I gave him the bat he looked brave, but something wet fell onmy hand, and then a sudden fear seized me lest David should notwin.

At the very outset, however, he seemed to master the bowling, andsoon fetched about ten runs in a classic manner. Then I tossedhim a Yorker which he missed and it went off at a tangent as soonas it had reached the tree. "Not out," I cried hastily, for theface he turned to me was terrible.

Soon thereafter another incident happened, which I shall alwaysrecall with pleasure. He had caught the ball too high on thebat, and I just missed the catch. "Dash it all!" said Iirritably, and was about to resume bowling, when I noticed thathe was unhappy. He hesitated, took up his position at the wicket,and then came to me manfully. "I am a cad," he said in distress,"for when the ball was in the air I prayed." He had prayed thatI should miss the catch, and as I think I have already told you,it is considered unfair in the Gardens to pray for victory.

My splendid David! He has the faults of other little boys, buthe has a noble sense of fairness. "We shall call it a no-ball,David," I said gravely.

I suppose the suspense of the reader is now painful, andtherefore I shall say at once that David won the match with twolovely fours, the one over my head and the other to leg all alongthe ground. When I came back from fielding this last ball Ifound him embracing his bat, and to my sour congratulations hecould at first reply only with hysterical sounds. But soon hewas pelting home to his mother with the glorious news.

And that is how we let Barbara in.