A Prefect's Uncle by P. G. Wodehouse

The M. C. C. match opened auspiciously. Norris, for the first time that season, won the toss. Tom Brown, we read, in a similar position, "with the usual liberality of young hands," put his opponents in first. Norris was not so liberal. He may have been young, but he was not so young as that. The sun was shining on as true a wicket as was ever prepared when he cried "Heads," and the coin, after rolling for some time in diminishing circles, came to a standstill with the dragon undermost. And Norris returned to the Pavilion and informed his gratified team that, all things considered, he rather thought that they would bat, and he would be obliged if Baker would get on his pads and come in first with him.

The M. C. C. men took the field -- O. T. Blackwell, by the way, had shrunk into a mere brother of the century-making A. T. -- and the two School House representatives followed them. An amateur of lengthy frame took the ball, a man of pace, to judge from the number of slips. Norris asked for "two leg. " An obliging umpire informed him that he had got two leg. The long bowler requested short slip to stand finer, swung his arm as if to see that the machinery still worked, and dashed wildly towards the crease. The match had begun.