UP Board Solutions for Class 9 English Prose Chapter 3 Playing The Game

UP Board Solutions for Class 9 English Prose Chapter 3 Playing The Game (Arthur Mee) 

About the Author 

Arthur Henry Mee (1875-1943) was a British writer, journalist and educator. As a boy he earned money from reading reports of Parliament to a local blind man. He became an editor in a local newspaper by age 20. At the age of 23 he joined the staff of The Daily Mail. He produced some immortal works with a patriotic tone, especially on the subjects of history and countryside. He is best known for The Harmsworth Self-Educator, The Children's Encyclopaedia, The Children's Newspaper, and The King's England. His book London-Heart of the Empire and Wonder of the World was the landmark in popularity. The sole purpose of his writing was to encourage the raising of a generation of patriotic and moral citizens.

About the Lesson 

The lesson provides us a glaring example of true sport spirit in everyday life. Truly, life In the lesson this challenge is met out by Alan, who played the game in a fine way outside the playground, He helped an old man who was greatly in need the kind of help which was provided by Alan, a school goer. He could not play the cricket match. But through his kind deed he won the heart of his parents and school teachers and classmates. He a field encountering challenges now and then. played, honestly, the real game and also rewarded. Alan's mother came to the gate to see him off. "Goodbye, Alan, do your best," she called out. "I'll try, Mummy," answered Alan, and, waving his hand, he ran out of the gate and up the road. Do his best ! Of course he would. For Alan was playing in the school cricket match and was mightily proud of being chosen to play. He had practised bowling with his father for weeks now, and Daddy said he was shaping well. Daddy was nearly as excited as Alan over the match, and he promised that if Alan's side won he would buy him a bicycle. No wonder Alan was excited ! On his way to the sports-ground Alan had to pass the little three-cornered meadow, and as he reached it, he saw a very old man leaning heavily on his stick. As Alan passed, the old man called out him. "Can I help you ?" asked Alan kindly, going up to him. The old man, in a thin, cracked voice, requested Alan to let him take his arm. He said, "This road is so hilly, and the wind is almost too much for me." "I would love to help you, sir," said Alan, for he knew he could easily make up what time he had lost by running when he left the old man. But the poor old gentleman leaned heavily on Alan's sturdy little arm and tottered along like a baby. So slowly did he walk that five minutes had gone before they were half-way up the road. Alan explained to the old man that he was on his way to a cricket match, and that he must not be late, but he seemed not to hear him. "Where do you live, sir ?" called Alan at last in the old man's ear. "Up the road and some way round the corner," he answered in his thin, weak voice. "I should be so much obliged if you could see me home. You look a very kind little boy." See him home ? And they were still a long way off ! If only he could walk a little faster. Why, the teams would be already on the field, and the captain would be wondering why he did not come. Suddenly the old man stumbled over a loose paving stone, and fell heavily on the ground. "Don't leave me, little boy," murmured the old man. "No, I will stay here," said Alan, and he sat down beside him, for he felt sure that someone would come that way soon.

Alan stared anxiously up and down the road during the minutes that followed. The minutes almost seemed like hours. Then, at last, turning the corner came a jolly-looking policeman. Alan could have shouted for joy. "TIll see this gentleman home, little boy," the policeman said, after Alan explained what. had happened. Then Alan ran off and flew as fast as his legs would carry him to the sports-ground. But the game had started when he arived. "Why, it's Alan," said the teacher, who was standing just inside the entrance. "You're not much good if you can't come up to time. We have put in young Harold Banks in your place. Fortunately, he's putting some good balls over." Alan bit his lip. How could he explain ? He turned away and made his way slowly home. His father opened the door. "Bravo, Alan," he said, patting his little son on the back. "But, Daddy .. ." began Alan. But his father interrupted him. "It's all right, old man," he said. "You see, I came up behind that policeman and he told me what had happened. So I knew you were playing the game although it wasn't on the cricket-pitch. So I went back to the market-place and bought the bicyele , I promised you. It's a beauty. And, Alan, we're proud of you, your mother and I." And in the classroom next morning, the boys gave Alan three loud cheers, as only schoolboys can, for in some mysterious fashion they too had learned all about his kind act.