TOM, DICK, AND HARRY
This story will interest and amuse all cricketers, and while from themale point of view it may serve as a good illustration of thefickleness of woman and the impossibility of forecasting what courseshe will take, the fair sex will find in it an equally shining proofof the colossal vanity of man.
"It's like this."
Tom Ellison sat down on the bed, and paused.
"Whack it out," said Dick Henley encouragingly.
"We're all friends here, and the password's 'Portland.' What's thematter?"
"I hate talking to a man when he's shaving. I don't want to have youcutting your head off."
"Don't worry about me. This is a safety razor. And, anyhow, what's theexcitement? Going to make my flesh creep?"
Tom Ellison kicked uncomfortably at the chair he was trying to balanceon one leg.
"It's so hard to explain."
"Have a dash at it."
"Well, look here, Dick, we've always been pals. What?"
"Of course we have."
"We went to the Empire last Boatrace night together----"
"And got chucked out simultaneously."
"In fact, we've always been pals. What?"
"Of course we have."
"Then, whenever there was a rag on, and a bonner in the quad, youalways knew you could help yourself to my chairs."
"You had the run of mine."
"We've shared each other's baccy."
"And whisky."
"In short, we've always been pals. What?"
"Of course we have."
"Then," said Tom Ellison, "what are you trying to cut me out for?"
"Cut you out?"
"You know what I mean. What do you think I came here for? To playcricket? Rot! I'd much rather have gone on tour with the Authentics. Icame here to propose to Dolly Burn."
Dick Henley frowned.
"I wish you'd speak of her as Miss Burn," he said austerely.
"There you are, you see," said Tom with sombre triumph; "you oughtn'tto have noticed a thing like that. It oughtn't to matter to you what Icall her. I always think of her as Dolly."
"You've no right to."
"I shall have soon."
"I'll bet you won't."
"How much?"
"Ten to one in anything."
"Done," said Tom. "I mean," he added hastily, "don't be a fool. Thereare some things one can't bet on. As you ought to have known," he saidprimly.
"Now, look here," said Dick, "this thing has got to be settled. You sayI'm trying to cut you out. I like that! We may fairly describe that asrich. As if my love were the same sort of passing fancy that yours is.You know you fall in love, as you call it, with every girl you meet."
"I don't."
"Very well. If the subject is painful we won't discuss it. Still, howabout that girl you used to rave about last summer? Ethel Something?"
Tom blushed.
"A mere platonic friendship. We both collected autographs. And, if itcomes to that, how about Dora Thingummy? You had enough to say abouther last winter."
Dick reddened.
"We were on good terms. Nothing more. She always sliced with herbrassy. So did I. It formed a sort of bond."
There was a pause.
"After all," resumed Dick, "I don't see the point of all this. Whyrake up the past? You aren't writing my life."
"You started raking."
"Well, to drop that, what do you propose to do about this? You're agood chap, Tom, when you aren't making an ass of yourself; but I'mhanged if I'm going to have you interfering between me and Dolly."
"Miss Burn."
Another pause.
"Look here," said Dick. "Cards on the table. I've loved her since lastCommem."
"So have I."
"We went up the Char together in a Canader. Alone."
"She also did the trip with me. No chaperone."
"Twice with me."
"Same here."
"She gave me a couple of dances at the Oriel ball."
"So she did me. She said my dancing was so much better than theaverage young man's."
"She told me I must have had a great deal of practice at waltzing."
"In the matter of photographs," said Tom, "she gave me one."
"Me, too."
"Do you mean 'also' or 'a brace'?" inquired Tom anxiously.
"'Also,'" confessed Dick with reluctance.
"Signed?"
"Rather!"
A third pause.
"I tell you what it is," said Tom; "we must agree on something, or weshall both get left. All we're doing now is to confuse the poor girl.She evidently likes us both the same. What I mean is, we're both soalike that she can't possibly make a choice unless one of us chucksit. You don't feel like chucking it, Dick. What?"
"You needn't be more of an idiot than you can help."
"I only asked. So we are evidently both determined to stick to it. Weshall have to toss, then, to settle which is to back out and give theother man a show."
"Toss!" shouted Dick. "For Dolly! Never!"
"But we must do something. You won't back out like a sensible man. Wemust settle it somehow."
"It's all right," said Dick. "I've got it. We both seem to have comehere and let ourselves in for this rotten little village match, on awicket which will probably be all holes and hillocks, simply forDolly's sake. So it's only right that we should let the match decidethis thing for us. It won't be so cold-blooded as tossing. See?"
"You mean----?"
"Whichever of us makes the bigger score today wins. The loser has tokeep absolutely off the grass. Not so much as a look or a remark aboutthe weather. Then, of course, after the winner has had his innings, ifhe hasn't brought the thing off, and she has chucked him, the losercan have a look in. But not a moment before. Understand?"
"All right."
"It'll give an interest to a rotten match," said Dick.
Tom rose to a point of order.
"There's one objection. You, being a stodgy sort of bat, and having ahabit of sitting on the splice, always get put in first. I'm a hitter,so they generally shove me in about fourth wicket. In this sort ofmatch the man who goes in fourth wicket is likely to be not out half adozen at the end of the innings. Nobody stays in more than threeballs. Whereas you, going in first, will have time for a decent knockbefore the rot starts. Follow?"
"I don't want to take any advantage of you," said Dickcondescendingly. "I shan't need it. We'll see Drew after breakfast andget him to put us both in first."
The Rev. Henry Drew, cricketing curate, was the captain of the side.
Consulted on the matter after breakfast, the Rev. Henry looked grave.He was taking this match very seriously, and held decided views on thesubject of managing his team.
"The point is, my dear Ellison," he said, "that I want the bowlingbroken a bit before you go in. Then your free, aggressive style wouldhave a better chance. I was thinking of putting you in fourth wicket.Would not that suit you?"
"I thought so. Tell him, Dick."
"Look here, Drew," said Dick; "you'll regard what I'm going to say assaid under seal of the confessional and that sort of thing, won'tyou?"
"I shall, of course, respect any confidence you impart to me, my dearHenley. What is this dreadful secret?"
Dick explained.
"So you see," he concluded, "it's absolutely necessary that we shouldstart fair."
The Rev. Henry looked as disturbed as if he had suddenly detectedsymptoms of Pelagianism in a member of his Sunday-school class.
"Is such a contest quite----? Is it not a little--um?" he said.
"Not at all," said Dick, hastening to justify himself and friend. "Wemust settle the thing somehow, and neither of us will back out. If wedidn't do this we should have to toss."
"Heaven forbid!" said the curate, shocked.
"Well, is it a deal? Will you put us in first?"
"Very well."
"Thanks," said Tom.
"Good of yo
u," said Dick.
"Don't mention it," said Harry.
* * * * *
There are two sorts of country cricket. There is the variety you getat a country-house, where the wicket is prepared with a care asmeticulous as that in fashion on any county ground; where red marl andsuch-like aids to smoothness have been injected into the turf allthrough the winter; and where the out-fielding is good and theboundaries spacious. And there is the village match, where cows areapt to stroll on to the pitch before the innings and cover-pointstands up to his neck in a furze-bush.
The game which was to decide the fate of Tom and Dick belonged to thelatter variety. A pitch had been mown in the middle of a meadow(kindly lent by Farmer Rollitt on condition that he should be allowedto umpire, and his eldest son Ted put on to bowl first). The teamconsisted of certain horny-handed sons of toil, with terrificgolf-shots in the direction of square-leg, and the enemy's ranks werecomposed of the same material. Tom and Dick, in ordinarycircumstances, would have gone in to bat in such a match with afeeling of lofty disdain, as befitting experts from the civilisedworld, come to teach the rustic mind what was what.
But on the present occasion the thought of all that depended on theirbats induced a state of nerves which would have done credit to a testmatch.
"Would you mind taking first b-b-ball, old man?" said Tom.
"All r-right," said Dick. He had been on the point of making therequest himself, but it would not do to let Tom see that he wasnervous.
He took guard from Farmer Rollitt, and settled himself into positionto face the first delivery.
Whether it is due to the pure air of the country or to daily manualtoil is not known, but the fact remains that bowlers in villagematches, whatever their other shortcomings, seldom fall short in thematter of speed. The present trundler, having swung his arm round likea flail, bounded to the crease and sent down a ball which hummed inthe air. It pitched halfway between the wickets in a slight hollowcaused by the foot of a cow and shot. Dick reached blindly forward,and the next moment his off-stump was out of the ground.
A howl of approval went up from the supporters of the enemy, lyingunder the trees.
Tom sat down, limp with joy. Dick out for a duck! What incredible goodfortune! He began to frame in his mind epigrammatic sentences for usein the scene which would so shortly take place between Miss Dolly Burnand himself. The next man came in and played flukily but successfullythrough the rest of the over. "Just a single," said Tom to himself ashe faced the bowler at the other end. "Just one solitary single. MissBurn--may I call you Dolly? Do you remember that moonlight night? Onthe Char? In my Canadian canoe? We two?"
"'S THAT?" shrieked bowler and wicket-keeper as one man.
Tom looked blankly at them. He had not gone within a mile and a halfof the ball, he was certain. And yet--there was the umpire with hishand raised, as if he were the Pope bestowing a blessing.
He walked quickly back to the trees, flung off his pads, and began tosmoke furiously.
"Well?" said a voice.
Dick was standing before him, grinning like a gargoyle.
"Of all the absolutely delirious decisions----" began Tom.
"Oh, yes," said Dick rudely, "I know all about that. Why, I could hearthe click from where I was sitting. The point is, what's to be donenow? We shall have to settle it on the second innings."
"If there is one."
"Oh, there'll be a second innings all right. There's another man out.On a wicket like this we shall all be out in an hour, and we'll havethe other side out in another hour, and then we'll start again on thisbusiness. I shall play a big game next innings. It was only thatinfernal ball shooting that did me."
"And I," said Tom; "if the umpire has got over his fit of deliriumtremens, or been removed to Colney Hatch, shall almost certainly makea century."
It was four o'clock by the time Tom and Dick went to the wickets forthe second time. Their side had been headed by their opponents by adozen on the first innings--68 to 56.
A splendid spirit of confidence animated the two batsmen. The umpirewho had effected Tom's downfall in the first innings had sincereceived a hard drive in the small of the back as he turned coyly awayto avoid the ball, and was now being massaged by strong men in thetaproom of the village inn. It was the sort of occurrence, said Tom,which proved once and for all the existence of an all-seeing,benevolent Providence.
As for Dick, he had smoothed out a few of the more importantmountain-ranges which marred the smoothness of the wicket, and wasfeeling that all was right with the world.
The pair started well. The demon bowler of the enemy, having beenfeted considerably under the trees by enthusiastic admirers during theinnings of his side, was a little incoherent in his deliveries. Fourfull-pitches did he send down to Dick in his first over, and Dick hadplaced 16 to his credit before Tom, who had had to look on anxiously,had opened his account. Dick was a slow scorer as a rule, but he knewa full-pitch to leg when he saw one.
From his place at the other crease Tom could see Miss Burn and hermother sitting under the trees, watching the game.
The sight nerved him. By the time he had played through his first overhe had reduced Dick's lead by half. An oyster would have hit out insuch circumstances, and Tom was always an aggressive batsman. By theend of the third over the scores were level. Each had made 20.
Enthusiasm ran high amongst the spectators, or such of them as werenatives of the village. Such a stand for the first wicket had not beenseen in all the matches ever played in the neighbourhood. When Tom,with a nice straight drive (which should have been a 4, but wasstopped by a cow and turned into a single), brought up the century,small boys burst buttons and octogenarians wept like babes.
The bowling was collared. The demon had long since retired grumblingto the deep field. Weird trundlers, with actions like nothing else onearth, had been tried, had fired their ringing shot, and passed. Oneindividual had gone on with lobs, to the acute delight of everybodyexcept the fieldsmen who had to retrieve the balls and theabove-mentioned cow. And still Tom and Dick stayed in and smote, whilein the west the sun slowly sank.
The Rev. Henry looked anxious. It was magnificent, but it must not beoverdone. A little more and they would not have time to get the foeout for the second time. In which case the latter would win on thefirst innings. And this thought was as gall to him.
He walked out and addressed the rival captain.
"I think," said he, "we will close our innings."
Tom and Dick made two bee-lines for the scorer and waitedpalpitatingly for the verdict.
"What's my score?" panted Tom.
"Fifty-fower, sur."
"And mine?" gasped Dick.
"Fifty-fower, too, sur."
* * * * *
"You see, my dear fellows," said the Rev. Henry when they hadfinished--and his voice was like unto oil that is poured into awound--"we had to win this match, and if you had gone on batting weshould not have had time to get them out. As it is, we shall have tohurry."
"But, hang it----" said Tom.
"But, look here----" said Dick.
"Yes?"
"What on earth are we to do?" said Tom.
"We're in precisely the same hole as we were before," said Dick.
"We don't know how to manage it."
"We're absolutely bunkered."
"Our competition, you see."
"About Miss Burn, don't you know."
"Which is to propose first?"
"We can't settle it."
The Rev. Henry smiled a faint, saintly smile and raised a protestinghand.
"My advice," he said, "is that both of you should refrain fromproposing."
"What?" said Dick.
"_Wha-at_?" said Tom.
"You see," purred the Rev. Henry, "you are both very young fellows.Probably you do not know your own minds. You take these things tooseri----"
"Now, look here," said Tom.
"None of that
rot," said Dick.
"I shall propose tonight."
"I shall propose this evening."
"I shouldn't," said the Rev. Henry. "The fact is----"
"Well?"
"Well?"
"I didn't tell you before, for fear it should put you off your game;but Miss Burn is engaged already, and has been for three days."
The two rivals started.
"Engaged!" cried Tom.
"Whom to?" hissed Dick.
"Me," murmured Harry.