meaning of strike rate in cricket

meaning of strike rate in cricket is not only a bookmaker with a rich history but also a symbol of trust and quality, always trusted by Asian players.⭐️ "Mr Lawrence has a beautiful voice," said[Pg 78] Lucy. "How touchingly he sang 'Tom Bowling'!",Mr Lawrence looked at the red-headed, monkey-faced, pleading creature, not, in that look designing, it was manifest, to give him the berth; but all on a sudden his face slightly changed, an idea seemed to flash up in him and work in his countenance, just as a light kindled suddenly within a mask made of something transparent might, by the intention of the artist, change its look.,"A nice pair of scare-babies you two are," he said, scathingly. "A great pair you are to help me find old Scroggie's will an' money. Why, say, if you'd only kept your nerve a little, that ghost would'a led us right to the spot, most likely; but 'stead o' that you take to your heels at first sight of it. Say! I thought you both had more sand.",Most women have no character at all.',"Well, it might as well be one thing as another," frowned the woman. "That boy catches everythin' that comes along, anyway. I s'pose I'll have to quit my preservin' to mix him up a dose of allaways."，His mind was full of his son as he sat this[Pg 53] day at his dinner, which was put every afternoon punctually at half-past one upon the table whether Mr Lawrence was at home or whether he was not. The window at which the Admiral was wont of a pleasant evening to sit with his pipe was open; the room was small, with a low ceiling, but one should say a very dream of comfort to a nautical man. Its walls were embellished with pictures of sea-fights, of frigates engaging forts, of encounters between line-of-battle ships. A handsome telescope, a gift for some deed of valour, lay in brackets over the small, richly-carved sideboard.，At six o'clock, greatly wearied, Captain Acton mounted his mare at "The Swan" stables and rode home. He was very pale. Indeed this man loved his daughter, who was his only child. His immediate question, put with bright-eyed passion to the servant who came to the door, was, "Has Miss Lucy returned?"，Billy pursed up his lips in thought. "Say!" he cried, "I've got it. You go on back there where you played possum, an' wait fer Anse. When he comes he's goin' to beg a favor of you, sure as shootin'. He played a dirty trick on me not long ago an' he's been keepin' out of my way ever since. Lied to me so's to get me to thrash a feller that licked him. I'll tell you all about it later. Anse is goin' to ask you to square it with me; he's jest that kind. You promise to get him off this time if he goes away an' leaves you by yourself. Then you come back here, see?""He's gone," Maurice answered his chum's look. "Took to his heels when the lightnin' struck that elm. The shock knocked us both down. He was gone when I come to."

"That night Maurice Keeler an' me went over to Gamble's an' borrowed his old ferret. He's a big ferret an' he'll tackle anythin', even a skunk. With some keg-hoops an' a canvas sack we had made what we needed to catch the weasels in. Then we put a muzzle on the ferret, so he couldn't fang-cut the weasels, an' we went over to Scraff's. As soon as Joe Scraff saw the ferret he began to see light an' turned into the house to get his shotgun. I told him to remember his promise to let me get the weasels alive, so he set on the fence an' watched while we got busy.,"Miss Lucy went out at about half-past seven, sir," said the footman.,Billy whistled. "But fifty sticks, Maurice! It's almost more'n she'll need, don't you think?",He strayed into the beech grove sighing, striving to realize all that had suddenly happened to him. Never in all his dreams had he imagined such a face could belong to mortal girl. He must see her again—yes, he must see her soon again—perhaps speak with her. The very thought of it made him dizzy.,"May I have a word with you, sir?" he exclaimed in a coarse, hoarse, broken voice.,"Did you notice how he was dressed?" he asked.,The sehoolhouse stood with a wide sloping green before it and a tangle of second growth forest behind it. It was not an old building, but had the appearance of senile old age. Its coat of cheap terra-cotta paint had cracked into many wrinkles; its windows looked dully out like the lustreless eyes of an old, old man. The ante-room roof had been blown off by a winter's gale and replaced inaccurately, so that it set awry, jaunty and defiant, challenging the world. Its door hung on one hinge, leaning sleepily against a knife-scarred wall. A rail fence ran about the yard which was filled to choking with a rank growth of smart-weed. In one corner of the yard was a well with a faded blue pump holding the faded red arm of a handle toward the skies, as though evoking high heaven to bear witness that it was never intended to lead such a lonely and useless existence.,"I guess your Dad don't think much of us folks down here, does he?" Billy asked.,"An' you'll help us, as you promised?",Billy climbed the rail fence and crossed the basswood swale to the highland. He approached the beech grove cautiously and peered about him. Seated on a log at the lower end of a grassy glade was a boy about his own age, a boy with round, bullet head poised on a thick neck set between square shoulders.,"I tell you, Jack, we'll hide the stuff there. It'll be safe as a church.","What do you want?" said Mr Lawrence, halting and viewing the fellow with a frowning face and lips which grew tight-set the instant he closed them..