MRS. MALLORY

The prospects here are much as last year, except that her youngest born, Joan, is now five, and consequently rather more likely to wander in the way of a cricket ball or fall down in front of the roller than she was twelve months ago.  Otherwise Mrs. Mallory faces the approaching season with calm, if not with complete appreciation.

DICK

Of Dick’s prospects there is no need to speak at length.  He will have two hours’ batting every day against, from a batsman’s point of view, ideal bowling, and in addition the whole-hearted admiration of all of us.  In short, the outlook here is distinctly hopeful.

PHYLLIS

The prospects of this player are, from her own point of view, bright, as she will be allowed to field for two hours a day to the beloved Dick.  She is also fully qualified now to help with the heavy roller.  A new experiment is to be tried this season, and she will be allowed to bowl for an odd five-minutes at the end of Dick’s innings to me.

BOBBY

enters upon the coming season with confidence, as he thinks there is a chance of my bowling to him too; but he is mistaken.  As before, he will be in charge of the heavy roller, and he will also be required to slacken the ropes of the net at the end of the day.  His prospects, however, are certainly improved this season, as he will be qualified to bowl for the whole two hours, but only on the distinct understanding (with Phyllis) that he does his own fielding for himself.

Of the prospects of

JOAN

I have already spoken above.  There remain only the prospects of

MYSELF

which are frankly rotten.  They consist chiefly of two hours’ bowling to the batting of Dick (who hits them back very hard), and ten minutes’ batting to the bowling of Phyllis (slow, mild) and Bobby (fast wides); for Dick, having been ordered by the captain not to strain himself by trying to bowl, is not going to try.  It is extremely doubtful whether Bobby will approve of my action, while if he or Phyllis should, by an unlucky accident, get me out, I should never hear the last of it.  In this case, however, there must be added to Bobby’s prospects the possibility of getting his head definitely smacked.

Fortunately—­it is my only consolation—­the season will be a short one.  It ends on Tuesday.

THE FIRST GAME

  There comes a Day (I can hear it coming),
    One of those glorious deep blue days,
  When larks are singing and bees are humming,
    And Earth gives voice in a thousand ways—­
      Then I, my friends, I too shall sing,
      And hum a foolish little thing,
And whistle like (but not too like) a blackbird in the Spring.