_First A.B._ (_knowingly_). Ah, but I notice that _in a match_ these
tremendous swipes don't always come off, don'tcher-know. I've seen
some tremendous sloggers at the nets make a wonderful poor show when
between wickets with a watchful "field" round 'em.

_Second A.B._ (_with candour_). Ah, quite so, of course. Everyone must
have noticed that. With a demon bowler in front of yer sending 'em
down like hundred-tonners, and a blarmed cat of a wicket-keeper on the
grab just at your back, not to mention a pouncer at point, it puzzles
the best of them to get 'em away, though "in a position of greater
freedom and less responsibility," practising at the nets, to wit, with
only the ground-bowler and a few scouts fielding, they may punish 'em
properly.

_First A.B._ Ah, well, one must allow that the Champion plays the game
right away all the time.

_Second A B._ Yea. Age cannot wither him, nor custom stale his
infinite variety. Wonderful, all the same, what perversely bad hits
he will persist in making, at times. Does things now and again you'd
think a school-girl with a bat would be ashamed of.

_First A.B._ Ah, by the way, what do you think of these here
new-fangled Lady-Cricketers?

_Second A.B._ (_significantly_). Ask the Old 'Un what _he_ thinks of
'em.

_First A.B._ Ah! can't abide 'em, can he? And yet he likes the Ladies