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"Whatever may befall thee," says that great man in his "Meditations", "it was preordained for thee from everlasting. Nothing happens to anybody which he is not fitted by nature to bear." I like to think that this noble thought came to him after he had sliced a couple of new balls into the woods, and that he jotted it down on the back of his score-card.
"And let's be sure and find something he really wants to present to him as a testimony of our esteem." "Oh, Phoebe," trilled Polly, her emotions getting the better of her as she stood with score-card in hand waiting for the game to begin, "I can't keep from loving him myself and you treat him so mean!"
The soft murmur of many voices in light conversation and laughter filled the air. The peanut venders and score-card sellers kept up their insistent shrill cries. The baseball park was alive now and restless; the atmosphere seemed charged with freedom and pleasure. The players romped like skittish colts, the fans shrieked their witticisms all sound and movements suggested play.
"Playing three hundred and ninety-six," he said, as we drew near. "How are you?" I consulted my score-card. "We have played a snappy seven hundred and eleven." I said. Ralph exulted openly. Rupert Bailey made no comment. He was too busy with the alluvial deposits on his person. "Perhaps you would like to give up the match?" said Ralph to Arthur. "Tchah!" said Arthur. "Might just as well."
The arrangement in tabular form of the features for any product, with the number of points stated for each, all summing 100, constitutes a "score-card." Thus there may be a score-card for Merino sheep, another for Shropshires, one for apples, and for any other objects whatsoever. At competitive exhibitions, the element of comparison comes in.
All round the arena rose the cries of itinerant merchants: 'Iced malvoisie, 'Score-cards; ye cannot tell the jousters without a score-card. All was revelry and excitement. A hush fell on the throng. From either end of the arena a mounted knight in armour had entered. The herald raised his hand. 'Ladeez'n gemmen! Battling Galahad and Agravaine the Dolorous.
Anita was pretty and peachy, delicious, kissable, huggable, a pleasant armful, a lapload of girlish mischief. Charity was beautiful, noble, perilous, a woman to live for, fight for, die for. Kedzie was to Charity as Rosalind to Isolde. It was time for Jim to play Tristan, but he had no more blank verse in him than a polo score-card.
White-faced and stern, he hurried to the bench, where Pat fell all over him and many of the players grasped his hands. Up in her box Madge was crushing her score-card and whispering: "Oh! Billie, I could hug you for that!" Two runs on two pitched balls! That was an opening to stir an exacting audience to the highest pitch of enthusiasm.
One of her opponents, a frivolous lady whose score-card was decorated with green stars, giggled and whispered to the hapless partner not to mind, the Hat was only an old crank anyway; old maids always got like that. She would have continued in the same strain but for a look of deep rebuke from her own partner.
"Where did your brother practise?" he asked. "In the cellar." "Of course it's easier with a long barrel." "Is it?" she said incredulously. "You should see my brother's score-card the first time he shot at that new miniature rifle-range in Hanbridge!" "Why? Is it anything special?" "Well, you should see it. Five bulls, all cutting into each other." "I should have liked to see that."
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