‘Now, shall I tell upon you?’ said Rose.

‘No, don’t!’ hastily replied the little woman, blushing.  And the cavaliers laughed out, and the ladies smiled, and Dorothy added:  ’It isn’t much, after all.’

‘Then, come; let’s have it, or I shall be jealous,’ said the Squire.

‘Shall I tell?’ Rose asked slily.

’It ‘s unfair to betray one of your sex, Rose,’ remarked the sweetly-smiling lady.

‘Yes, Lady Racial—­mayn’t a woman have secrets?’ Dorothy put it with great natural earnestness, and they all laughed aloud.  ’But I know a secret of Rosey’s,’ continued Miss Dorothy, ’and if she tells upon me, I shall tell upon her.’

‘They’re out!’ cried Rose, pointing her whip at the wickets.  ’Good night to Beckley!  Tom Copping ‘s run out.’

Questions as to how it was done passed from mouth to mouth.  Questions as to whether it was fair sprang from Tom’s friends, and that a doubt existed was certain:  the whole field was seen converging toward the two umpires.

Farmer Broadmead for Fallow field, Master Nat Hodges for Beckley.

It really is a mercy there’s some change in the game,’ said Mrs. Shorne, waving her parasol.  ’It ’s a charming game, but it wants variety a little.  When do you return, Rose?’

‘Not for some time,’ said Rose, primly.  ’I like variety very well, but I don’t seek it by running away the moment I’ve come.’

‘No, but, my dear,’ Mrs. Shorne negligently fanned her face, ’you will have to come with us, I fear, when we go.  Your uncle accompanies us.  I really think the Squire will, too; and Mr. Forth is no chaperon.  Even you understand that.’

’Oh, I can get an old man—­don’t be afraid, said Rose.  ’Or must I have and old woman, aunt?’

The lady raised her eyelids slowly on Rose, and thought:  ’If you were soundly whipped, my little madam, what a good thing it would be for you.’  And that good thing Mrs. Shorne was willing to do for Rose.  She turned aside, and received the salute of an unmistakable curate on foot.

‘Ah, Mr. Parsley, you lend your countenance to the game, then?’

The curate observed that sound Churchmen unanimously supported the game.

‘Bravo!’ cried Rose.  ’How I like to hear you talk like that, Mr. Parsley.  I didn’t think you had so much sense.  You and I will have a game together—­single wicket.  We must play for something—­what shall it be?’

‘Oh—­for nothing,’ the curate vacuously remarked.

‘That’s for love, you rogue!’ exclaimed the Squire.  ‘Come, come, none o’ that, sir—­ha! ha!’

‘Oh, very well; we’ll play for love,’ said Rose.

‘And I’ll hold the stakes, my dear—­eh?’

‘You dear old naughty Squire!—­what do you mean?’

Rose laughed.  But she had all the men surrounding her, and Mrs. Shorne talked of departing.