savin’ it. I think it’s wrong to save money. Money doesn’t
do any good to you or to anyone else. Not while you’re savin’ it. It’s kinder to help the poor shop people by spendin’ money at their shops. How’r the poor people in
shops goin’ to live if all the people save their money an’ don’t spend any of it? . . . Well, anyway that’s what I think.’ This was for Henry an unusually long
and an unusually eloquent speech. It showed that he had been stirred to the depth of his feelings. There was a moment’s impressed silence. Then the others murmured in sympathy and Douglas
said: ‘Let’s go’n look at ’em again.’
They were in the window of the little general shop at the other end of the village. . . . Three of them, beautiful in shape and strength and size and symmetry, with brass tops
– cricket stumps. They were priced eight and sixpence.
‘Golly!’ said Ginger wistfully. ‘Just think of playin ’ with ’em!’
‘You can get ’em cheaper than that,’ suggested Douglas tentatively, ‘you can get ’em for three and six. Smaller, of course, and not so nice.’
The Outlaws, who were flattening their noses against the glass and gazing at the stumps like so many Moseses gazing at the Promised Land, treated Douglas’ suggestion with contempt.
‘Who’d want to play with cheap ones after seeing these ones?’ said William sternly. ‘There’s no sense in talkin’ about cheap ones now
we’ve seen these ones. I – I’d sooner go on playin’ with the tree than play with other ones now we’ve seen these ones.’
The Outlaws had these holidays developed a passion for cricket. They had, of course, partaken in the pastime in previous years, but listlessly and with boredom as in a pastime organised by the
school authorities and therefore devoid of either sense or interest. Fielding had, of course, provided ample opportunity for studying the smaller fauna which infested the cricket pitch (last term
Ginger had several times been hit squarely in the back while engaged in catching grasshoppers at mid-on), and batting was usually of short duration, but not until these holidays had the Outlaws
regarded cricket as a game to be played for its own sake when not under the eye of Authority. The discovery was a thrilling one. The Outlaws in this as in everything threw moderation to the winds.
They played cricket in season and out of season. They began the game before breakfast and continued it throughout the day with intervals for meals. They considered cricket far more enlivening when
played with four players than when played with twenty-two. Ginger’s elder brother gave them an old ball and Douglas had had a bat for a birthday present. Stumps they did not worry about. They
chalked stumps on a tree trunk and played quite happily with them for a long time. But they found that stumps chalked on a tree trunk have their drawbacks, of which the chief one is that the bowler
and batter are seldom agreed as to when one is hit. The Outlaws generally settled the question by single combat between batter and bowler, which at first was all right because the Outlaws always
enjoyed single combats, but as the game itself became more and more exciting the perpetual abandoning of it to settle the score by single combat became monotonous and rather boring.
It was then that the Outlaws decided to procure stumps. Had they not happened to see the eight and six set all would have been well. They would have stuck sticks into the ground or scraped together enough
money to buy an inferior set at one and eleven. But – not now. Now that they had seen the eight and six set of stumps, the set of stumps de luxe, the set of stumps with brass tops from the
Land of the Ideal, they knew that all the savour would be gone from the game till they possessed them.
‘Eight and six,’ said Douglas gloomily. ‘Well, we shall never get eight and six, so we may as well stop thinking of them, and just do the best we can
do any good to you or to anyone else. Not while you’re savin’ it. It’s kinder to help the poor shop people by spendin’ money at their shops. How’r the poor people in
shops goin’ to live if all the people save their money an’ don’t spend any of it? . . . Well, anyway that’s what I think.’ This was for Henry an unusually long
and an unusually eloquent speech. It showed that he had been stirred to the depth of his feelings. There was a moment’s impressed silence. Then the others murmured in sympathy and Douglas
said: ‘Let’s go’n look at ’em again.’
They were in the window of the little general shop at the other end of the village. . . . Three of them, beautiful in shape and strength and size and symmetry, with brass tops
– cricket stumps. They were priced eight and sixpence.
‘Golly!’ said Ginger wistfully. ‘Just think of playin ’ with ’em!’
‘You can get ’em cheaper than that,’ suggested Douglas tentatively, ‘you can get ’em for three and six. Smaller, of course, and not so nice.’
The Outlaws, who were flattening their noses against the glass and gazing at the stumps like so many Moseses gazing at the Promised Land, treated Douglas’ suggestion with contempt.
‘Who’d want to play with cheap ones after seeing these ones?’ said William sternly. ‘There’s no sense in talkin’ about cheap ones now
we’ve seen these ones. I – I’d sooner go on playin’ with the tree than play with other ones now we’ve seen these ones.’
The Outlaws had these holidays developed a passion for cricket. They had, of course, partaken in the pastime in previous years, but listlessly and with boredom as in a pastime organised by the
school authorities and therefore devoid of either sense or interest. Fielding had, of course, provided ample opportunity for studying the smaller fauna which infested the cricket pitch (last term
Ginger had several times been hit squarely in the back while engaged in catching grasshoppers at mid-on), and batting was usually of short duration, but not until these holidays had the Outlaws
regarded cricket as a game to be played for its own sake when not under the eye of Authority. The discovery was a thrilling one. The Outlaws in this as in everything threw moderation to the winds.
They played cricket in season and out of season. They began the game before breakfast and continued it throughout the day with intervals for meals. They considered cricket far more enlivening when
played with four players than when played with twenty-two. Ginger’s elder brother gave them an old ball and Douglas had had a bat for a birthday present. Stumps they did not worry about. They
chalked stumps on a tree trunk and played quite happily with them for a long time. But they found that stumps chalked on a tree trunk have their drawbacks, of which the chief one is that the bowler
and batter are seldom agreed as to when one is hit. The Outlaws generally settled the question by single combat between batter and bowler, which at first was all right because the Outlaws always
enjoyed single combats, but as the game itself became more and more exciting the perpetual abandoning of it to settle the score by single combat became monotonous and rather boring.
It was then that the Outlaws decided to procure stumps. Had they not happened to see the eight and six set all would have been well. They would have stuck sticks into the ground or scraped together enough
money to buy an inferior set at one and eleven. But – not now. Now that they had seen the eight and six set of stumps, the set of stumps de luxe, the set of stumps with brass tops from the
Land of the Ideal, they knew that all the savour would be gone from the game till they possessed them.
‘Eight and six,’ said Douglas gloomily. ‘Well, we shall never get eight and six, so we may as well stop thinking of them, and just do the best we can
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