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."