d Form.

"The Happy Family" turned up to a man, and encamped _en masse_ upon the
turf within twenty yards of the pavilion. Bibbs was the last to arrive
on the scene of action, and did so with a bag of sweets in one hand, a
book in the other, and a piece of paper, pinned by some joker to the
tail of his coat, bearing the legend, "Please to kick me"--a request
which was immediately responded to in a most hearty and generous fashion
by all present.

Kicking the unfortunate Bibbs afforded every one such exquisite
enjoyment that an effort was made to prolong the pastime by forcible
attempts to fasten the placard on to other members of the company, and
a general _melee_, would have followed if the attention of the
combatants had not been attracted in another direction. Ronleigh having
won the toss and elected to go in first, the Wraxby men strolled out of
the pavilion to take the field.

They were a likely-looking lot of fellows--the faded flannel caps and
careless way in which they sauntered towards the pitch proclaiming the
fact that each one was a veteran player.

"That chap with the wicket-keeping gloves in his hand is Partridge,
their captain," said Carton; "and that fellow who's putting out the
single stump to bowl at is Austin. He does put them in to some
tune; you can hardly see the ball, it's so swift."

There was a faint _clang_ from the pitch.

"See that!" cried Fletcher junior: "that chap Austin's knocked that
single stump out of the ground first ball. My eye, he'll make our
fellows sit up, I'll bet."

"No, he won't," cried "Rats" excitedly. "Old Ally'll knock him into a
cocked hat. He'll soon break his back," added the speaker
complaisantly. "Hullo! men in--Parkes and Rowland."

There is something in the short space of time preceding the first
_clack_ of the bat at a cricket match which rivals in interest even that
exciting moment at football when the centre forward stands hovering over
the ball waiting for the whistle to give the signal for the contest to
commence.

The noisy clatter of "The Happy Family" ceases as the crowd of boys,
ranged all down the sides of the field, turn to watch the opening of the
game.

It is an ideal day for cricket, with a fresh breeze blowing, just
sufficient to temper the hot afternoon sunshine and cause a flutter of
cricket-shirts and boundary flags. Rowland takes centre, twists the
handle of his bat round and round in his hands, and is heard amid the
general