as he filled his pipe slowly, "will be
either a lie or extremely unimpressive."
"It will be neither, Henry. If I put my own name on it, and talked about
_my_ double century, of course it would be a lie; but the inscription
will be to Stanley Bolland."
"Who's he?"
"I don't know. I've just made him up. But now, supposing my little
shield says, 'Stanley Bolland. H.P.C.C.--Season 1912. Batting average
116.34.'--how is that a lie?"
"What does H.P.C.C. stand for?"
"I don't know. It doesn't mean anything really. I'll leave out 'Batting
average' if it makes it more truthful. 'Stanley Bolland. H.P.C.C., 1912.
116.34.' It's really just a little note I make on the back of my bat to
remind me of something or other I've forgotten. 116.34 is probably
Bolland's telephone number or the size of something I want at his shop.
But by a pure accident the wicket-keeper thinks it means something else;
and he tells the bowler at the end of the over that it's that chap
Bolland who had an average of over a century for the Hampstead
Polytechnic last year. Of course that makes the bowler nervous and he
starts sending down long-hops."
"I see," said Henry; and he began to read his paper again.
So to-morrow I take my bat to the silversmith's and have a little
engraved shield fastened on. Of course, with a really trustworthy weapon
I am certain to collect pots of runs this season. But there is no harm
in making things as easy as possible for oneself.
And yet there is this to be thought of. Even the very best bat in the
world may fail to score, and it might so happen that I was dismissed
(owing to some defect in the pitch) before my silver shield had time to
impress the opposition. Or again, I might (through ill-health) perform
so badly that quite a wrong impression of the standard of the Hampstead
Polytechnic would be created, an impression which I should hate to be
the innocent means of circulating.
So on second thoughts I lean to a different inscription. On the back of
my bat a plain silver shield will say quite simply this:--
TO
STANLEY BOLLAND,
FOR SAVING LIFE AT SEA.
FROM A FEW ADMIRERS.
Thus I shall have two strings to my bow. And if, by any unhappy chance,
I fail as a cricketer, the wicket-keeper will say to his comrades as I
walk sadly to the pavilion, "A poor bat perhaps, but a brave--a very
brave fellow."
It becomes us all to make at least one effort to brighten cricket.
UNCLE EDWARD
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