Tales of St. Austins | Page 8

'tall, good-looking man';
in other words, Uncle John himself. He had come by the 4.30, I
suppose. Anyway, there he was, and I had insulted him badly. Biffen
told me that he had asked who I was, and that he (Biffen) had given the
information, while he was thinking of something else to say to him
about his digging. By the way, I suppose he dug from force of habit.
Thought he'd find diamonds, perhaps. When Biffen told him this, he
said in a nasty voice: 'Then, when he comes back will you have the
goodness to tell him that my name is John Dalgliesh, and that he will
hear more of this.' And I'm uncommonly afraid I shall. The governor
bars Uncle John awfully, I know, but he wanted me to be particularly
civil to him, because he was to get me a place in some beastly firm
when I leave. I haven't heard from home yet, but I expect to soon. Still,
I'd like to know how I could stand and watch him ruining the wicket for
our spot match of the season. As it is, it won't be as good as it would
have been. The Rugborough slow man will be unplayable if he can find
one of these spots. Altogether, it's a beastly business. Write soon,
though I know you won't--Yours ever, Dick
II
Telegram from Major-General Sir Everard Venables, V.C., K.C.M.G.,
to his son Richard Venables:
Venables, St Austin's. What all this about Uncle John. Says were

grossly rude. Write explanation next post--Venables.

III
Letter from Mrs James Anthony (nee Miss Dorothy Venables) to her
brother Richard Venables:
Dear Dick--What have you been doing to Uncle John? Jim and I are
stopping for a fortnight with father, and have just come in for the whole
thing. Uncle John--_isn't_ he a horrible man?--says you were grossly
insolent to him when he went down to see you. Do write and tell me all
about it. I have heard no details as yet. Father refuses to give them, and
gets simply furious when the matter is mentioned. Jim said at dinner
last night that a conscientious boy would probably feel bound to be
rude to Uncle John. Father said 'Conscience be--'; I forget the rest, but
it was awful. Jim says if he gets any worse we shall have to sit on his
head, and cut the traces. He is getting so dreadfully horsey. Do write
the very minute you get this. I want to know all about it.--Your
affectionate sister, Dorothy
IV
Part of Letter from Richard Venables, of St Austin's, to his father
Major-General Sir Everard Venables, V.C., K.C.M.G.:
... So you see it was really his fault. The Emperor of Germany has no
right to come and dig holes in our best wicket. Take a parallel case.
Suppose some idiot of a fellow (not that Uncle John's that, of course,
but you know what I mean) came and began rooting up your azaleas.
Wouldn't you want to say something cutting? I will apologize to Uncle
John, if you like; but still, I do think he might have gone somewhere
else if he really wanted to dig. So you see, etc., etc.

V
Letter from Richard Venables, of St Austin's, to his sister Mrs James
Anthony:
Dear Dolly--Thanks awfully for your letter, and thank Jim for his
message. He's a ripper. I'm awfully glad you married him and not that
rotter, Thompson, who used to hang on so. I hope the most marvellous
infant on earth is flourishing. And now about Uncle John. Really, I am
jolly glad I did say all that to him. We played Rugborough yesterday,

and the wicket was simply vile. They won the toss, and made two
hundred and ten. Of course, the wicket was all right at one end, and
that's where they made most of their runs. I was wicket-keeping as
usual, and I felt awfully ashamed of the beastly pitch when their captain
asked me if it was the football-field. Of course, he wouldn't have said
that if he hadn't been a pal of mine, but it was probably what the rest of
the team thought, only they were too polite to say so. When we came to
bat it was worse than ever. I went in first with Welch--that's the fellow
who stopped a week at home a few years ago; I don't know whether
you remember him. He got out in the first over, caught off a ball that
pitched where Uncle John had been prospecting, and jumped up. It was
rotten luck, of course, and worse was to follow, for by half-past five we
had eight wickets down for just over the hundred, and only young Scott,
who's simply a slogger, and another fellow to