Kenneth Grahame,
The Argonauts
(1894)
“ At the end of his regulation time Harold stopped crying suddenly, like a clock that had struck its hour; and with a serene and cheerful countenance, wriggled out of Medea's embrace, and ran for a stone to throw at an intrusive blackbird. "O you boys!" cried Medea, throwing wide her arms with abandonment. "Where have you dropped from? How dirty you are! I've been shut up here for a thousand years, and all that time I've never seen any one under a hundred and fifty! Let's play at something, at once!" "Rounders is a good game," I suggested, "Girls can play at rounders. ”
