Huntercombe eighty-eight.
Staveleigh. Second innings, sixty runs, and only one wicket down; and
Johnson and Wright, two of their best men, well in, and masters of the
bowling.
This being communicated to Ruperta, she became excited, and her soul in
the game.
The batters went on knocking the balls about, and scored thirteen more
before the young lady's eyes.
"Oh, dear!" said she, "what is that boy about? Why doesn't he bowl?
They pretend he is a capital bowler."
At this time Compton was standing long-field on, only farther from the
wicket than usual.
Johnson, at the wicket bowled to, being a hard but not very scientific
hitter, lifted a half volley ball right over the bowler's head, a hit
for four, but a skyscraper. Compton started the moment he hit, and,
running with prodigious velocity, caught the ball descending, within a
few yards of Ruperta; but, to get at it, he was obliged to throw
himself forward into the air; he rolled upon the grass, but held the
ball in sight all the while.
Mr. Johnson was out, and loud acclamations rent the sky.
Compton rose, and saw Ruperta clapping her hands close by.
She left off and blushed, directly he saw her. He blushed too, and
touched his cap to her, with an air half manly, half sheepish, but did
not speak to her.
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