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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/7028-h.zip b/7028-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d71e30f --- /dev/null +++ b/7028-h.zip diff --git a/7028-h/7028-h.htm b/7028-h/7028-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..468ea35 --- /dev/null +++ b/7028-h/7028-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10025 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" name="linkgenerator" /> + <title> + The Clicking of Cuthbert, by P. G. Wodehouse + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} + .x-small {font-size: 75%;} + .small {font-size: 85%;} + .large {font-size: 115%;} + .x-large {font-size: 130%;} + .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} + .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} + .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} + .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent25 { margin-left: 25%;} + .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} + .indent35 { margin-left: 35%;} + .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; + font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; + text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; + border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} + .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} + span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Clicking of Cuthbert, by P. G. Wodehouse + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Clicking of Cuthbert + +Author: P. G. Wodehouse + +First Posted: February 24, 2003 [EBook #7028] +Last Updated: November 11, 2018 +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CLICKING OF CUTHBERT *** + +Etext produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE CLICKING OF CUTHBERT + </h1> + <h2> + By P. G. Wodehouse + </h2> + <h3> + 1922 + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + DEDICATION + </h3> + <h3> + TO THE IMMORTAL MEMORY OF + </h3> + <h3> + JOHN HENRIE AND PAT ROGIE + </h3> + <h3> + WHO AT EDINBURGH IN THE YEAR 1593 A.D. + </h3> + <h3> + WERE IMPRISONED FOR + </h3> + <h3> + "PLAYING OF THE GOWFF ON THE LINKS OF LEITH + </h3> + <h3> + EVERY SABBATH THE TIME OF THE SERMONSES", + </h3> + <h3> + ALSO OF ROBERT ROBERTSON WHO GOT IT IN THE NECK + </h3> + <h3> + IN 1604 A.D. FOR THE SAME REASON + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FORE! + </h2> + <p> + This book marks an epoch in my literary career. It is written in blood. It + is the outpouring of a soul as deeply seared by Fate's unkindness as the + fairway on the dog-leg hole of the second nine was ever seared by my iron. + It is the work of a very nearly desperate man, an eighteen-handicap man + who has got to look extremely slippy if he doesn't want to find himself in + the twenties again. + </p> + <p> + As a writer of light fiction, I have always till now been handicapped by + the fact that my disposition was cheerful, my heart intact, and my life + unsoured. Handicapped, I say, because the public likes to feel that a + writer of farcical stories is piquantly miserable in his private life, and + that, if he turns out anything amusing, he does it simply in order to + obtain relief from the almost insupportable weight of an existence which + he has long since realized to be a wash-out. Well, today I am just like + that. + </p> + <p> + Two years ago, I admit, I was a shallow <i>farceur</i>. My work lacked + depth. I wrote flippantly simply because I was having a thoroughly good + time. Then I took up golf, and now I can smile through the tears and + laugh, like Figaro, that I may not weep, and generally hold my head up and + feel that I am entitled to respect. + </p> + <p> + If you find anything in this volume that amuses you, kindly bear in mind + that it was probably written on my return home after losing three balls in + the gorse or breaking the head off a favourite driver: and, with a + murmured "Brave fellow! Brave fellow!" recall the story of the clown + jesting while his child lay dying at home. That is all. Thank you for your + sympathy. It means more to me than I can say. Do you think that if I tried + the square stance for a bit.... But, after all, this cannot interest you. + Leave me to my misery. + </p> + <p> + POSTSCRIPT.—In the second chapter I allude to Stout Cortez staring + at the Pacific. Shortly after the appearance of this narrative in serial + form in America, I received an anonymous letter containing the words, "You + big stiff, it wasn't Cortez, it was Balboa." This, I believe, is + historically accurate. On the other hand, if Cortez was good enough for + Keats, he is good enough for me. Besides, even if it <i>was</i> Balboa, + the Pacific was open for being stared at about that time, and I see no + reason why Cortez should not have had a look at it as well. + </p> + <p> + P. G. WODEHOUSE. +</p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + CONTENTS + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto" cellpadding="4" border="3"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> FORE! </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> 1 — <i>The Clicking of Cuthbert</i> + </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> 2 — <i>A Woman is only a Woman</i> + </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> 3 — <i>A Mixed Threesome</i> </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> 4 — <i>Sundered Hearts</i> </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> 5 — <i>The Salvation of George + Mackintosh</i> </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> 6 — <i>Ordeal By Golf</i> </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> 7 — <i>The Long Hole</i> </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> 8 — <i>The Heel of Achilles</i> </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> 9 — <i>The Rough Stuff</i> </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> 10 — <i>The Coming of Gowf</i> </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_PROL"> PROLOGUE </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_EPIL"> EPILOGUE </a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 1 — <i>The Clicking of Cuthbert</i> + </h2> + <p> + The young man came into the smoking-room of the clubhouse, and flung his + bag with a clatter on the floor. He sank moodily into an arm-chair and + pressed the bell. + </p> + <p> + "Waiter!" + </p> + <p> + "Sir?" + </p> + <p> + The young man pointed at the bag with every evidence of distaste. + </p> + <p> + "You may have these clubs," he said. "Take them away. If you don't want + them yourself, give them to one of the caddies." + </p> + <p> + Across the room the Oldest Member gazed at him with a grave sadness + through the smoke of his pipe. His eye was deep and dreamy—the eye + of a man who, as the poet says, has seen Golf steadily and seen it whole. + </p> + <p> + "You are giving up golf?" he said. + </p> + <p> + He was not altogether unprepared for such an attitude on the young man's + part: for from his eyrie on the terrace above the ninth green he had + observed him start out on the afternoon's round and had seen him lose a + couple of balls in the lake at the second hole after taking seven strokes + at the first. + </p> + <p> + "Yes!" cried the young man fiercely. "For ever, dammit! Footling game! + Blanked infernal fat-headed silly ass of a game! Nothing but a waste of + time." + </p> + <p> + The Sage winced. + </p> + <p> + "Don't say that, my boy." + </p> + <p> + "But I do say it. What earthly good is golf? Life is stern and life is + earnest. We live in a practical age. All round us we see foreign + competition making itself unpleasant. And we spend our time playing golf! + What do we get out of it? Is golf any <i>use</i>? That's what I'm asking + you. Can you name me a single case where devotion to this pestilential + pastime has done a man any practical good?" + </p> + <p> + The Sage smiled gently. + </p> + <p> + "I could name a thousand." + </p> + <p> + "One will do." + </p> + <p> + "I will select," said the Sage, "from the innumerable memories that rush + to my mind, the story of Cuthbert Banks." + </p> + <p> + "Never heard of him." + </p> + <p> + "Be of good cheer," said the Oldest Member. "You are going to hear of him + now." + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + It was in the picturesque little settlement of Wood Hills (said the Oldest + Member) that the incidents occurred which I am about to relate. Even if + you have never been in Wood Hills, that suburban paradise is probably + familiar to you by name. Situated at a convenient distance from the city, + it combines in a notable manner the advantages of town life with the + pleasant surroundings and healthful air of the country. Its inhabitants + live in commodious houses, standing in their own grounds, and enjoy so + many luxuries—such as gravel soil, main drainage, electric light, + telephone, baths (h. and c.), and company's own water, that you might be + pardoned for imagining life to be so ideal for them that no possible + improvement could be added to their lot. Mrs. Willoughby Smethurst was + under no such delusion. What Wood Hills needed to make it perfect, she + realized, was Culture. Material comforts are all very well, but, if the <i>summum + bonum</i> is to be achieved, the Soul also demands a look in, and it was + Mrs. Smethurst's unfaltering resolve that never while she had her strength + should the Soul be handed the loser's end. It was her intention to make + Wood Hills a centre of all that was most cultivated and refined, and, + golly! how she had succeeded. Under her presidency the Wood Hills Literary + and Debating Society had tripled its membership. + </p> + <p> + But there is always a fly in the ointment, a caterpillar in the salad. The + local golf club, an institution to which Mrs. Smethurst strongly objected, + had also tripled its membership; and the division of the community into + two rival camps, the Golfers and the Cultured, had become more marked than + ever. This division, always acute, had attained now to the dimensions of a + Schism. The rival sects treated one another with a cold hostility. + </p> + <p> + Unfortunate episodes came to widen the breach. Mrs. Smethurst's house + adjoined the links, standing to the right of the fourth tee: and, as the + Literary Society was in the habit of entertaining visiting lecturers, many + a golfer had foozled his drive owing to sudden loud outbursts of applause + coinciding with his down-swing. And not long before this story opens a + sliced ball, whizzing in at the open window, had come within an ace of + incapacitating Raymond Parsloe Devine, the rising young novelist (who rose + at that moment a clear foot and a half) from any further exercise of his + art. Two inches, indeed, to the right and Raymond must inevitably have + handed in his dinner-pail. + </p> + <p> + To make matters worse, a ring at the front-door bell followed almost + immediately, and the maid ushered in a young man of pleasing appearance in + a sweater and baggy knickerbockers who apologetically but firmly insisted + on playing his ball where it lay, and, what with the shock of the + lecturer's narrow escape and the spectacle of the intruder standing on the + table and working away with a niblick, the afternoon's session had to be + classed as a complete frost. Mr. Devine's determination, from which no + argument could swerve him, to deliver the rest of his lecture in the + coal-cellar gave the meeting a jolt from which it never recovered. + </p> + <p> + I have dwelt upon this incident, because it was the means of introducing + Cuthbert Banks to Mrs. Smethurst's niece, Adeline. As Cuthbert, for it was + he who had so nearly reduced the muster-roll of rising novelists by one, + hopped down from the table after his stroke, he was suddenly aware that a + beautiful girl was looking at him intently. As a matter of fact, everyone + in the room was looking at him intently, none more so than Raymond Parsloe + Devine, but none of the others were beautiful girls. Long as the members + of Wood Hills Literary Society were on brain, they were short on looks, + and, to Cuthbert's excited eye, Adeline Smethurst stood out like a jewel + in a pile of coke. + </p> + <p> + He had never seen her before, for she had only arrived at her aunt's house + on the previous day, but he was perfectly certain that life, even when + lived in the midst of gravel soil, main drainage, and company's own water, + was going to be a pretty poor affair if he did not see her again. Yes, + Cuthbert was in love: and it is interesting to record, as showing the + effect of the tender emotion on a man's game, that twenty minutes after he + had met Adeline he did the short eleventh in one, and as near as a toucher + got a three on the four-hundred-yard twelfth. + </p> + <p> + I will skip lightly over the intermediate stages of Cuthbert's courtship + and come to the moment when—at the annual ball in aid of the local + Cottage Hospital, the only occasion during the year on which the lion, so + to speak, lay down with the lamb, and the Golfers and the Cultured met on + terms of easy comradeship, their differences temporarily laid aside—he + proposed to Adeline and was badly stymied. + </p> + <p> + That fair, soulful girl could not see him with a spy-glass. + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Banks," she said, "I will speak frankly." + </p> + <p> + "Charge right ahead," assented Cuthbert. + </p> + <p> + "Deeply sensible as I am of——" + </p> + <p> + "I know. Of the honour and the compliment and all that. But, passing + lightly over all that guff, what seems to be the trouble? I love you to + distraction——" + </p> + <p> + "Love is not everything." + </p> + <p> + "You're wrong," said Cuthbert, earnestly. "You're right off it. Love——" + And he was about to dilate on the theme when she interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + "I am a girl of ambition." + </p> + <p> + "And very nice, too," said Cuthbert. + </p> + <p> + "I am a girl of ambition," repeated Adeline, "and I realize that the + fulfilment of my ambitions must come through my husband. I am very + ordinary myself——" + </p> + <p> + "What!" cried Cuthbert. "You ordinary? Why, you are a pearl among women, + the queen of your sex. You can't have been looking in a glass lately. You + stand alone. Simply alone. You make the rest look like battered repaints." + </p> + <p> + "Well," said Adeline, softening a trifle, "I believe I am fairly + good-looking——" + </p> + <p> + "Anybody who was content to call you fairly good-looking would describe + the Taj Mahal as a pretty nifty tomb." + </p> + <p> + "But that is not the point. What I mean is, if I marry a nonentity I shall + be a nonentity myself for ever. And I would sooner die than be a + nonentity." + </p> + <p> + "And, if I follow your reasoning, you think that that lets <i>me</i> out?" + </p> + <p> + "Well, really, Mr. Banks, <i>have</i> you done anything, or are you likely + ever to do anything worth while?" + </p> + <p> + Cuthbert hesitated. + </p> + <p> + "It's true," he said, "I didn't finish in the first ten in the Open, and I + was knocked out in the semi-final of the Amateur, but I won the French + Open last year." + </p> + <p> + "The—what?" + </p> + <p> + "The French Open Championship. Golf, you know." + </p> + <p> + "Golf! You waste all your time playing golf. I admire a man who is more + spiritual, more intellectual." + </p> + <p> + A pang of jealousy rent Cuthbert's bosom. + </p> + <p> + "Like What's-his-name Devine?" he said, sullenly. + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Devine," replied Adeline, blushing faintly, "is going to be a great + man. Already he has achieved much. The critics say that he is more Russian + than any other young English writer." + </p> + <p> + "And is that good?" + </p> + <p> + "Of course it's good." + </p> + <p> + "I should have thought the wheeze would be to be more English than any + other young English writer." + </p> + <p> + "Nonsense! Who wants an English writer to be English? You've got to be + Russian or Spanish or something to be a real success. The mantle of the + great Russians has descended on Mr. Devine." + </p> + <p> + "From what I've heard of Russians, I should hate to have that happen to <i>me</i>." + </p> + <p> + "There is no danger of that," said Adeline scornfully. + </p> + <p> + "Oh! Well, let me tell you that there is a lot more in me than you think." + </p> + <p> + "That might easily be so." + </p> + <p> + "You think I'm not spiritual and intellectual," said Cuthbert, deeply + moved. "Very well. Tomorrow I join the Literary Society." + </p> + <p> + Even as he spoke the words his leg was itching to kick himself for being + such a chump, but the sudden expression of pleasure on Adeline's face + soothed him; and he went home that night with the feeling that he had + taken on something rather attractive. It was only in the cold, grey light + of the morning that he realized what he had let himself in for. + </p> + <p> + I do not know if you have had any experience of suburban literary + societies, but the one that flourished under the eye of Mrs. Willoughby + Smethurst at Wood Hills was rather more so than the average. With my + feeble powers of narrative, I cannot hope to make clear to you all that + Cuthbert Banks endured in the next few weeks. And, even if I could, I + doubt if I should do so. It is all very well to excite pity and terror, as + Aristotle recommends, but there are limits. In the ancient Greek tragedies + it was an ironclad rule that all the real rough stuff should take place + off-stage, and I shall follow this admirable principle. It will suffice if + I say merely that J. Cuthbert Banks had a thin time. After attending + eleven debates and fourteen lectures on <i>vers libre</i> Poetry, the + Seventeenth-Century Essayists, the Neo-Scandinavian Movement in Portuguese + Literature, and other subjects of a similar nature, he grew so enfeebled + that, on the rare occasions when he had time for a visit to the links, he + had to take a full iron for his mashie shots. + </p> + <p> + It was not simply the oppressive nature of the debates and lectures that + sapped his vitality. What really got right in amongst him was the torture + of seeing Adeline's adoration of Raymond Parsloe Devine. The man seemed to + have made the deepest possible impression upon her plastic emotions. When + he spoke, she leaned forward with parted lips and looked at him. When he + was not speaking—which was seldom—she leaned back and looked + at him. And when he happened to take the next seat to her, she leaned + sideways and looked at him. One glance at Mr. Devine would have been more + than enough for Cuthbert; but Adeline found him a spectacle that never + palled. She could not have gazed at him with a more rapturous intensity if + she had been a small child and he a saucer of ice-cream. All this Cuthbert + had to witness while still endeavouring to retain the possession of his + faculties sufficiently to enable him to duck and back away if somebody + suddenly asked him what he thought of the sombre realism of Vladimir + Brusiloff. It is little wonder that he tossed in bed, picking at the + coverlet, through sleepless nights, and had to have all his waistcoats + taken in three inches to keep them from sagging. + </p> + <p> + This Vladimir Brusiloff to whom I have referred was the famous Russian + novelist, and, owing to the fact of his being in the country on a + lecturing tour at the moment, there had been something of a boom in his + works. The Wood Hills Literary Society had been studying them for weeks, + and never since his first entrance into intellectual circles had Cuthbert + Banks come nearer to throwing in the towel. Vladimir specialized in grey + studies of hopeless misery, where nothing happened till page three hundred + and eighty, when the moujik decided to commit suicide. It was tough going + for a man whose deepest reading hitherto had been Vardon on the Push-Shot, + and there can be no greater proof of the magic of love than the fact that + Cuthbert stuck it without a cry. But the strain was terrible and I am + inclined to think that he must have cracked, had it not been for the daily + reports in the papers of the internecine strife which was proceeding so + briskly in Russia. Cuthbert was an optimist at heart, and it seemed to him + that, at the rate at which the inhabitants of that interesting country + were murdering one another, the supply of Russian novelists must + eventually give out. + </p> + <p> + One morning, as he tottered down the road for the short walk which was now + almost the only exercise to which he was equal, Cuthbert met Adeline. A + spasm of anguish flitted through all his nerve-centres as he saw that she + was accompanied by Raymond Parsloe Devine. + </p> + <p> + "Good morning, Mr. Banks," said Adeline. + </p> + <p> + "Good morning," said Cuthbert hollowly. + </p> + <p> + "Such good news about Vladimir Brusiloff." + </p> + <p> + "Dead?" said Cuthbert, with a touch of hope. + </p> + <p> + "Dead? Of course not. Why should he be? No, Aunt Emily met his manager + after his lecture at Queen's Hall yesterday, and he has promised that Mr. + Brusiloff shall come to her next Wednesday reception." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, ah!" said Cuthbert, dully. + </p> + <p> + "I don't know how she managed it. I think she must have told him that Mr. + Devine would be there to meet him." + </p> + <p> + "But you said he was coming," argued Cuthbert. + </p> + <p> + "I shall be very glad," said Raymond Devine, "of the opportunity of + meeting Brusiloff." + </p> + <p> + "I'm sure," said Adeline, "he will be very glad of the opportunity of + meeting you." + </p> + <p> + "Possibly," said Mr. Devine. "Possibly. Competent critics have said that + my work closely resembles that of the great Russian Masters." + </p> + <p> + "Your psychology is so deep." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, yes." + </p> + <p> + "And your atmosphere." + </p> + <p> + "Quite." + </p> + <p> + Cuthbert in a perfect agony of spirit prepared to withdraw from this + love-feast. The sun was shining brightly, but the world was black to him. + Birds sang in the tree-tops, but he did not hear them. He might have been + a moujik for all the pleasure he found in life. + </p> + <p> + "You will be there, Mr. Banks?" said Adeline, as he turned away. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, all right," said Cuthbert. + </p> + <p> + When Cuthbert had entered the drawing-room on the following Wednesday and + had taken his usual place in a distant corner where, while able to feast + his gaze on Adeline, he had a sporting chance of being overlooked or + mistaken for a piece of furniture, he perceived the great Russian thinker + seated in the midst of a circle of admiring females. Raymond Parsloe + Devine had not yet arrived. + </p> + <p> + His first glance at the novelist surprised Cuthbert. Doubtless with the + best motives, Vladimir Brusiloff had permitted his face to become almost + entirely concealed behind a dense zareba of hair, but his eyes were + visible through the undergrowth, and it seemed to Cuthbert that there was + an expression in them not unlike that of a cat in a strange backyard + surrounded by small boys. The man looked forlorn and hopeless, and + Cuthbert wondered whether he had had bad news from home. + </p> + <p> + This was not the case. The latest news which Vladimir Brusiloff had had + from Russia had been particularly cheering. Three of his principal + creditors had perished in the last massacre of the <i>bourgeoisie</i>, and + a man whom he owed for five years for a samovar and a pair of overshoes + had fled the country, and had not been heard of since. It was not bad news + from home that was depressing Vladimir. What was wrong with him was the + fact that this was the eighty-second suburban literary reception he had + been compelled to attend since he had landed in the country on his + lecturing tour, and he was sick to death of it. When his agent had first + suggested the trip, he had signed on the dotted line without an instant's + hesitation. Worked out in roubles, the fees offered had seemed just about + right. But now, as he peered through the brushwood at the faces round him, + and realized that eight out of ten of those present had manuscripts of + some sort concealed on their persons, and were only waiting for an + opportunity to whip them out and start reading, he wished that he had + stayed at his quiet home in Nijni-Novgorod, where the worst thing that + could happen to a fellow was a brace of bombs coming in through the window + and mixing themselves up with his breakfast egg. + </p> + <p> + At this point in his meditations he was aware that his hostess was looming + up before him with a pale young man in horn-rimmed spectacles at her side. + There was in Mrs. Smethurst's demeanour something of the unction of the + master-of-ceremonies at the big fight who introduces the earnest gentleman + who wishes to challenge the winner. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Mr. Brusiloff," said Mrs. Smethurst, "I do so want you to meet Mr. + Raymond Parsloe Devine, whose work I expect you know. He is one of our + younger novelists." + </p> + <p> + The distinguished visitor peered in a wary and defensive manner through + the shrubbery, but did not speak. Inwardly he was thinking how exactly + like Mr. Devine was to the eighty-one other younger novelists to whom he + had been introduced at various hamlets throughout the country. Raymond + Parsloe Devine bowed courteously, while Cuthbert, wedged into his corner, + glowered at him. + </p> + <p> + "The critics," said Mr. Devine, "have been kind enough to say that my poor + efforts contain a good deal of the Russian spirit. I owe much to the great + Russians. I have been greatly influenced by Sovietski." + </p> + <p> + Down in the forest something stirred. It was Vladimir Brusiloff's mouth + opening, as he prepared to speak. He was not a man who prattled readily, + especially in a foreign tongue. He gave the impression that each word was + excavated from his interior by some up-to-date process of mining. He + glared bleakly at Mr. Devine, and allowed three words to drop out of him. + </p> + <p> + "Sovietski no good!" + </p> + <p> + He paused for a moment, set the machinery working again, and delivered + five more at the pithead. + </p> + <p> + "I spit me of Sovietski!" + </p> + <p> + There was a painful sensation. The lot of a popular idol is in many ways + an enviable one, but it has the drawback of uncertainty. Here today and + gone tomorrow. Until this moment Raymond Parsloe Devine's stock had stood + at something considerably over par in Wood Hills intellectual circles, but + now there was a rapid slump. Hitherto he had been greatly admired for + being influenced by Sovietski, but it appeared now that this was not a + good thing to be. It was evidently a rotten thing to be. The law could not + touch you for being influenced by Sovietski, but there is an ethical as + well as a legal code, and this it was obvious that Raymond Parsloe Devine + had transgressed. Women drew away from him slightly, holding their skirts. + Men looked at him censoriously. Adeline Smethurst started violently, and + dropped a tea-cup. And Cuthbert Banks, doing his popular imitation of a + sardine in his corner, felt for the first time that life held something of + sunshine. + </p> + <p> + Raymond Parsloe Devine was plainly shaken, but he made an adroit attempt + to recover his lost prestige. + </p> + <p> + "When I say I have been influenced by Sovietski, I mean, of course, that I + was once under his spell. A young writer commits many follies. I have long + since passed through that phase. The false glamour of Sovietski has ceased + to dazzle me. I now belong whole-heartedly to the school of Nastikoff." + </p> + <p> + There was a reaction. People nodded at one another sympathetically. After + all, we cannot expect old heads on young shoulders, and a lapse at the + outset of one's career should not be held against one who has eventually + seen the light. + </p> + <p> + "Nastikoff no good," said Vladimir Brusiloff, coldly. He paused, listening + to the machinery. + </p> + <p> + "Nastikoff worse than Sovietski." + </p> + <p> + He paused again. + </p> + <p> + "I spit me of Nastikoff!" he said. + </p> + <p> + This time there was no doubt about it. The bottom had dropped out of the + market, and Raymond Parsloe Devine Preferred were down in the cellar with + no takers. It was clear to the entire assembled company that they had been + all wrong about Raymond Parsloe Devine. They had allowed him to play on + their innocence and sell them a pup. They had taken him at his own + valuation, and had been cheated into admiring him as a man who amounted to + something, and all the while he had belonged to the school of Nastikoff. + You never can tell. Mrs. Smethurst's guests were well-bred, and there was + consequently no violent demonstration, but you could see by their faces + what they felt. Those nearest Raymond Parsloe jostled to get further away. + Mrs. Smethurst eyed him stonily through a raised lorgnette. One or two low + hisses were heard, and over at the other end of the room somebody opened + the window in a marked manner. + </p> + <p> + Raymond Parsloe Devine hesitated for a moment, then, realizing his + situation, turned and slunk to the door. There was an audible sigh of + relief as it closed behind him. + </p> + <p> + Vladimir Brusiloff proceeded to sum up. + </p> + <p> + "No novelists any good except me. Sovietski—yah! Nastikoff—bah! + I spit me of zem all. No novelists anywhere any good except me. P. G. + Wodehouse and Tolstoi not bad. Not good, but not bad. No novelists any + good except me." + </p> + <p> + And, having uttered this dictum, he removed a slab of cake from a near-by + plate, steered it through the jungle, and began to champ. + </p> + <p> + It is too much to say that there was a dead silence. There could never be + that in any room in which Vladimir Brusiloff was eating cake. But + certainly what you might call the general chit-chat was pretty well down + and out. Nobody liked to be the first to speak. The members of the Wood + Hills Literary Society looked at one another timidly. Cuthbert, for his + part, gazed at Adeline; and Adeline gazed into space. It was plain that + the girl was deeply stirred. Her eyes were opened wide, a faint flush + crimsoned her cheeks, and her breath was coming quickly. + </p> + <p> + Adeline's mind was in a whirl. She felt as if she had been walking gaily + along a pleasant path and had stopped suddenly on the very brink of a + precipice. It would be idle to deny that Raymond Parsloe Devine had + attracted her extraordinarily. She had taken him at his own valuation as + an extremely hot potato, and her hero-worship had gradually been turning + into love. And now her hero had been shown to have feet of clay. It was + hard, I consider, on Raymond Parsloe Devine, but that is how it goes in + this world. You get a following as a celebrity, and then you run up + against another bigger celebrity and your admirers desert you. One could + moralize on this at considerable length, but better not, perhaps. Enough + to say that the glamour of Raymond Devine ceased abruptly in that moment + for Adeline, and her most coherent thought at this juncture was the + resolve, as soon as she got up to her room, to burn the three signed + photographs he had sent her and to give the autographed presentation set + of his books to the grocer's boy. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Smethurst, meanwhile, having rallied somewhat, was endeavouring to + set the feast of reason and flow of soul going again. + </p> + <p> + "And how do you like England, Mr. Brusiloff?" she asked. + </p> + <p> + The celebrity paused in the act of lowering another segment of cake. + </p> + <p> + "Dam good," he replied, cordially. + </p> + <p> + "I suppose you have travelled all over the country by this time?" + </p> + <p> + "You said it," agreed the Thinker. + </p> + <p> + "Have you met many of our great public men?" + </p> + <p> + "Yais—Yais—Quite a few of the nibs—Lloyid Gorge, I meet + him. But——" Beneath the matting a discontented expression came + into his face, and his voice took on a peevish note. "But I not meet your + real great men—your Arbmishel, your Arreevadon—I not meet + them. That's what gives me the pipovitch. Have <i>you</i> ever met + Arbmishel and Arreevadon?" + </p> + <p> + A strained, anguished look came into Mrs. Smethurst's face and was + reflected in the faces of the other members of the circle. The eminent + Russian had sprung two entirely new ones on them, and they felt that their + ignorance was about to be exposed. What would Vladimir Brusiloff think of + the Wood Hills Literary Society? The reputation of the Wood Hills Literary + Society was at stake, trembling in the balance, and coming up for the + third time. In dumb agony Mrs. Smethurst rolled her eyes about the room + searching for someone capable of coming to the rescue. She drew blank. + </p> + <p> + And then, from a distant corner, there sounded a deprecating, cough, and + those nearest Cuthbert Banks saw that he had stopped twisting his right + foot round his left ankle and his left foot round his right ankle and was + sitting up with a light of almost human intelligence in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Er——" said Cuthbert, blushing as every eye in the room seemed + to fix itself on him, "I think he means Abe Mitchell and Harry Vardon." + </p> + <p> + "Abe Mitchell and Harry Vardon?" repeated Mrs. Smethurst, blankly. "I + never heard of——" + </p> + <p> + "Yais! Yais! Most! Very!" shouted Vladimir Brusiloff, enthusiastically. + "Arbmishel and Arreevadon. You know them, yes, what, no, perhaps?" + </p> + <p> + "I've played with Abe Mitchell often, and I was partnered with Harry + Vardon in last year's Open." + </p> + <p> + The great Russian uttered a cry that shook the chandelier. + </p> + <p> + "You play in ze Open? Why," he demanded reproachfully of Mrs. Smethurst, + "was I not been introducted to this young man who play in opens?" + </p> + <p> + "Well, really," faltered Mrs. Smethurst. "Well, the fact is, Mr. Brusiloff——" + </p> + <p> + She broke off. She was unequal to the task of explaining, without hurting + anyone's feelings, that she had always regarded Cuthbert as a piece of + cheese and a blot on the landscape. + </p> + <p> + "Introduct me!" thundered the Celebrity. + </p> + <p> + "Why, certainly, certainly, of course. This is Mr.——." + </p> + <p> + She looked appealingly at Cuthbert. + </p> + <p> + "Banks," prompted Cuthbert. + </p> + <p> + "Banks!" cried Vladimir Brusiloff. "Not Cootaboot Banks?" + </p> + <p> + "<i>Is</i> your name Cootaboot?" asked Mrs. Smethurst, faintly. + </p> + <p> + "Well, it's Cuthbert." + </p> + <p> + "Yais! Yais! Cootaboot!" There was a rush and swirl, as the effervescent + Muscovite burst his way through the throng and rushed to where Cuthbert + sat. He stood for a moment eyeing him excitedly, then, stooping swiftly, + kissed him on both cheeks before Cuthbert could get his guard up. "My dear + young man, I saw you win ze French Open. Great! Great! Grand! Superb! Hot + stuff, and you can say I said so! Will you permit one who is but eighteen + at Nijni-Novgorod to salute you once more?" + </p> + <p> + And he kissed Cuthbert again. Then, brushing aside one or two + intellectuals who were in the way, he dragged up a chair and sat down. + </p> + <p> + "You are a great man!" he said. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, no," said Cuthbert modestly. + </p> + <p> + "Yais! Great. Most! Very! The way you lay your approach-putts dead from + anywhere!" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I don't know." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brusiloff drew his chair closer. + </p> + <p> + "Let me tell you one vairy funny story about putting. It was one day I + play at Nijni-Novgorod with the pro. against Lenin and Trotsky, and + Trotsky had a two-inch putt for the hole. But, just as he addresses the + ball, someone in the crowd he tries to assassinate Lenin with a rewolwer—you + know that is our great national sport, trying to assassinate Lenin with + rewolwers—and the bang puts Trotsky off his stroke and he goes five + yards past the hole, and then Lenin, who is rather shaken, you understand, + he misses again himself, and we win the hole and match and I clean up + three hundred and ninety-six thousand roubles, or fifteen shillings in + your money. Some gameovitch! And now let me tell you one other vairy funny + story——" + </p> + <p> + Desultory conversation had begun in murmurs over the rest of the room, as + the Wood Hills intellectuals politely endeavoured to conceal the fact that + they realized that they were about as much out of it at this re-union of + twin souls as cats at a dog-show. From time to time they started as + Vladimir Brusiloff's laugh boomed out. Perhaps it was a consolation to + them to know that he was enjoying himself. + </p> + <p> + As for Adeline, how shall I describe her emotions? She was stunned. Before + her very eyes the stone which the builders had rejected had become the + main thing, the hundred-to-one shot had walked away with the race. A rush + of tender admiration for Cuthbert Banks flooded her heart. She saw that + she had been all wrong. Cuthbert, whom she had always treated with a + patronizing superiority, was really a man to be looked up to and + worshipped. A deep, dreamy sigh shook Adeline's fragile form. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later Vladimir and Cuthbert Banks rose. + </p> + <p> + "Goot-a-bye, Mrs. Smet-thirst," said the Celebrity. "Zank you for a most + charming visit. My friend Cootaboot and me we go now to shoot a few holes. + You will lend me clobs, friend Cootaboot?" + </p> + <p> + "Any you want." + </p> + <p> + "The niblicksky is what I use most. Goot-a-bye, Mrs. Smet-thirst." + </p> + <p> + They were moving to the door, when Cuthbert felt a light touch on his arm. + Adeline was looking up at him tenderly. + </p> + <p> + "May I come, too, and walk round with you?" + </p> + <p> + Cuthbert's bosom heaved. + </p> + <p> + "Oh," he said, with a tremor in his voice, "that you would walk round with + me for life!" + </p> + <p> + Her eyes met his. + </p> + <p> + "Perhaps," she whispered, softly, "it could be arranged." + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + "And so," (concluded the Oldest Member), "you see that golf can be of the + greatest practical assistance to a man in Life's struggle. Raymond Parsloe + Devine, who was no player, had to move out of the neighbourhood + immediately, and is now, I believe, writing scenarios out in California + for the Flicker Film Company. Adeline is married to Cuthbert, and it was + only his earnest pleading which prevented her from having their eldest son + christened Abe Mitchell Ribbed-Faced Mashie Banks, for she is now as keen + a devotee of the great game as her husband. Those who know them say that + theirs is a union so devoted, so——" + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The Sage broke off abruptly, for the young man had rushed to the door and + out into the passage. Through the open door he could hear him crying + passionately to the waiter to bring back his clubs. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 2 — <i>A Woman is only a Woman</i> + </h2> + <p> + On a fine day in the spring, summer, or early autumn, there are few spots + more delightful than the terrace in front of our Golf Club. It is a + vantage-point peculiarly fitted to the man of philosophic mind: for from + it may be seen that varied, never-ending pageant, which men call Golf, in + a number of its aspects. To your right, on the first tee, stand the cheery + optimists who are about to make their opening drive, happily conscious + that even a topped shot will trickle a measurable distance down the steep + hill. Away in the valley, directly in front of you, is the lake hole, + where these same optimists will be converted to pessimism by the wet + splash of a new ball. At your side is the ninth green, with its sinuous + undulations which have so often wrecked the returning traveller in sight + of home. And at various points within your line of vision are the third + tee, the sixth tee, and the sinister bunkers about the eighth green—none + of them lacking in food for the reflective mind. + </p> + <p> + It is on this terrace that the Oldest Member sits, watching the younger + generation knocking at the divot. His gaze wanders from Jimmy Fothergill's + two-hundred-and-twenty-yard drive down the hill to the silver drops that + flash up in the sun, as young Freddie Woosley's mashie-shot drops weakly + into the waters of the lake. Returning, it rests upon Peter Willard, large + and tall, and James Todd, small and slender, as they struggle up the + fair-way of the ninth. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Love (says the Oldest Member) is an emotion which your true golfer should + always treat with suspicion. Do not misunderstand me. I am not saying that + love is a bad thing, only that it is an unknown quantity. I have known + cases where marriage improved a man's game, and other cases where it + seemed to put him right off his stroke. There seems to be no fixed rule. + But what I do say is that a golfer should be cautious. He should not be + led away by the first pretty face. I will tell you a story that + illustrates the point. It is the story of those two men who have just got + on to the ninth green—Peter Willard and James Todd. + </p> + <p> + There is about great friendships between man and man (said the Oldest + Member) a certain inevitability that can only be compared with the age-old + association of ham and eggs. No one can say when it was that these two + wholesome and palatable food-stuffs first came together, nor what was the + mutual magnetism that brought their deathless partnership about. One + simply feels that it is one of the things that must be so. Similarly with + men. Who can trace to its first beginnings the love of Damon for Pythias, + of David for Jonathan, of Swan for Edgar? Who can explain what it was + about Crosse that first attracted Blackwell? We simply say, "These men are + friends," and leave it at that. + </p> + <p> + In the case of Peter Willard and James Todd, one may hazard the guess that + the first link in the chain that bound them together was the fact that + they took up golf within a few days of each other, and contrived, as time + went on, to develop such equal form at the game that the most expert + critics are still baffled in their efforts to decide which is the worse + player. I have heard the point argued a hundred times without any + conclusion being reached. Supporters of Peter claim that his driving off + the tee entitles him to an unchallenged pre-eminence among the world's + most hopeless foozlers—only to be discomfited later when the + advocates of James show, by means of diagrams, that no one has ever + surpassed their man in absolute incompetence with the spoon. It is one of + those problems where debate is futile. + </p> + <p> + Few things draw two men together more surely than a mutual inability to + master golf, coupled with an intense and ever-increasing love for the + game. At the end of the first few months, when a series of costly + experiments had convinced both Peter and James that there was not a + tottering grey-beard nor a toddling infant in the neighbourhood whose + downfall they could encompass, the two became inseparable. It was + pleasanter, they found, to play together, and go neck and neck round the + eighteen holes, than to take on some lissome youngster who could spatter + them all over the course with one old ball and a cut-down cleek stolen + from his father; or some spavined elder who not only rubbed it into them, + but was apt, between strokes, to bore them with personal reminiscences of + the Crimean War. So they began to play together early and late. In the + small hours before breakfast, long ere the first faint piping of the + waking caddie made itself heard from the caddie-shed, they were half-way + through their opening round. And at close of day, when bats wheeled + against the steely sky and the "pro's" had stolen home to rest, you might + see them in the deepening dusk, going through the concluding exercises of + their final spasm. After dark, they visited each other's houses and read + golf books. + </p> + <p> + If you have gathered from what I have said that Peter Willard and James + Todd were fond of golf, I am satisfied. That is the impression I intended + to convey. They were real golfers, for real golf is a thing of the spirit, + not of mere mechanical excellence of stroke. + </p> + <p> + It must not be thought, however, that they devoted too much of their time + and their thoughts to golf—assuming, indeed, that such a thing is + possible. Each was connected with a business in the metropolis; and often, + before he left for the links, Peter would go to the trouble and expense of + ringing up the office to say he would not be coming in that day; while I + myself have heard James—and this not once, but frequently—say, + while lunching in the club-house, that he had half a mind to get + Gracechurch Street on the 'phone and ask how things were going. They were, + in fact, the type of men of whom England is proudest—the back-bone + of a great country, toilers in the mart, untired businessmen, keen + red-blooded men of affairs. If they played a little golf besides, who + shall blame them? + </p> + <p> + So they went on, day by day, happy and contented. And then the Woman came + into their lives, like the Serpent in the Links of Eden, and perhaps for + the first time they realized that they were not one entity—not one + single, indivisible Something that made for topped drives and short putts—but + two individuals, in whose breasts Nature had implanted other desires than + the simple ambition some day to do the dog-leg hole on the second nine in + under double figures. My friends tell me that, when I am relating a story, + my language is inclined at times a little to obscure my meaning; but, if + you understand from what I have been saying that James Todd and Peter + Willard both fell in love with the same woman—all right, let us + carry on. That is precisely what I was driving at. + </p> + <p> + I have not the pleasure of an intimate acquaintance with Grace Forrester. + I have seen her in the distance, watering the flowers in her garden, and + on these occasions her stance struck me as graceful. And once, at a + picnic, I observed her killing wasps with a teaspoon, and was impressed by + the freedom of the wrist-action of her back-swing. Beyond this, I can say + little. But she must have been attractive, for there can be no doubt of + the earnestness with which both Peter and James fell in love with her. I + doubt if either slept a wink the night of the dance at which it was their + privilege first to meet her. + </p> + <p> + The next afternoon, happening to encounter Peter in the bunker near the + eleventh green, James said: + </p> + <p> + "That was a nice girl, that Miss What's-her-name." + </p> + <p> + And Peter, pausing for a moment from his trench-digging, replied: + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + And then James, with a pang, knew that he had a rival, for he had not + mentioned Miss Forrester's name, and yet Peter had divined that it was to + her that he had referred. + </p> + <p> + Love is a fever which, so to speak, drives off without wasting time on the + address. On the very next morning after the conversation which I have + related, James Todd rang Peter Willard up on the 'phone and cancelled + their golf engagements for the day, on the plea of a sprained wrist. + Peter, acknowledging the cancellation, stated that he himself had been on + the point of ringing James up to say that he would be unable to play owing + to a slight headache. They met at tea-time at Miss Forrester's house. + James asked how Peter's headache was, and Peter said it was a little + better. Peter inquired after James's sprained wrist, and was told it + seemed on the mend. Miss Forrester dispensed tea and conversation to both + impartially. + </p> + <p> + They walked home together. After an awkward silence of twenty minutes, + James said: + </p> + <p> + "There is something about the atmosphere—the aura, shall I say?—that + emanates from a good woman that makes a man feel that life has a new, a + different meaning." + </p> + <p> + Peter replied: + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + When they reached James's door, James said: + </p> + <p> + "I won't ask you in tonight, old man. You want to go home and rest and + cure that headache." + </p> + <p> + "Yes," said Peter. + </p> + <p> + There was another silence. Peter was thinking that, only a couple of days + before, James had told him that he had a copy of Sandy MacBean's "How to + Become a Scratch Man Your First Season by Studying Photographs" coming by + parcel-post from town, and they had arranged to read it aloud together. By + now, thought Peter, it must be lying on his friend's table. The thought + saddened him. And James, guessing what was in Peter's mind, was saddened + too. But he did not waver. He was in no mood to read MacBean's masterpiece + that night. In the twenty minutes of silence after leaving Miss Forrester + he had realized that "Grace" rhymes with "face", and he wanted to sit + alone in his study and write poetry. The two men parted with a distant + nod. I beg your pardon? Yes, you are right. Two distant nods. It was + always a failing of mine to count the score erroneously. + </p> + <p> + It is not my purpose to weary you by a minute recital of the happenings of + each day that went by. On the surface, the lives of these two men seemed + unchanged. They still played golf together, and during the round achieved + towards each other a manner that, superficially, retained all its ancient + cheeriness and affection. If—I should say—when, James topped + his drive, Peter never failed to say "Hard luck!" And when—or, + rather, if Peter managed not to top his, James invariably said "Great!" + But things were not the same, and they knew it. + </p> + <p> + It so happened, as it sometimes will on these occasions, for Fate is a + dramatist who gets his best effects with a small cast, that Peter Willard + and James Todd were the only visible aspirants for the hand of Miss + Forrester. Right at the beginning young Freddie Woosley had seemed + attracted by the girl, and had called once or twice with flowers and + chocolates, but Freddie's affections never centred themselves on one + object for more than a few days, and he had dropped out after the first + week. From that time on it became clear to all of us that, if Grace + Forrester intended to marry anyone in the place, it would be either James + or Peter; and a good deal of interest was taken in the matter by the local + sportsmen. So little was known of the form of the two men, neither having + figured as principal in a love-affair before, that even money was the best + you could get, and the market was sluggish. I think my own flutter of + twelve golf-balls, taken up by Percival Brown, was the most substantial of + any of the wagers. I selected James as the winner. Why, I can hardly say, + unless that he had an aunt who contributed occasional stories to the + "Woman's Sphere". These things sometimes weigh with a girl. On the other + hand, George Lucas, who had half-a-dozen of ginger-ale on Peter, based his + calculations on the fact that James wore knickerbockers on the links, and + that no girl could possibly love a man with calves like that. In short, + you see, we really had nothing to go on. + </p> + <p> + Nor had James and Peter. The girl seemed to like them both equally. They + never saw her except in each other's company. And it was not until one day + when Grace Forrester was knitting a sweater that there seemed a chance of + getting a clue to her hidden feelings. + </p> + <p> + When the news began to spread through the place that Grace was knitting + this sweater there was a big sensation. The thing seemed to us practically + to amount to a declaration. + </p> + <p> + That was the view that James Todd and Peter Willard took of it, and they + used to call on Grace, watch her knitting, and come away with their heads + full of complicated calculations. The whole thing hung on one point—to + wit, what size the sweater was going to be. If it was large, then it must + be for Peter; if small, then James was the lucky man. Neither dared to + make open inquiries, but it began to seem almost impossible to find out + the truth without them. No masculine eye can reckon up purls and plains + and estimate the size of chest which the garment is destined to cover. + Moreover, with amateur knitters there must always be allowed a margin for + involuntary error. There were many cases during the war where our girls + sent sweaters to their sweethearts which would have induced strangulation + in their young brothers. The amateur sweater of those days was, in fact, + practically tantamount to German propaganda. + </p> + <p> + Peter and James were accordingly baffled. One evening the sweater would + look small, and James would come away jubilant; the next it would have + swollen over a vast area, and Peter would walk home singing. The suspense + of the two men can readily be imagined. On the one hand, they wanted to + know their fate; on the other, they fully realized that whoever the + sweater was for would have to wear it. And, as it was a vivid pink and + would probably not fit by a mile, their hearts quailed at the prospect. + </p> + <p> + In all affairs of human tension there must come a breaking point. It came + one night as the two men were walking home. + </p> + <p> + "Peter," said James, stopping in mid-stride. He mopped his forehead. His + manner had been feverish all the evening. + </p> + <p> + "Yes?" said Peter. + </p> + <p> + "I can't stand this any longer. I haven't had a good night's rest for + weeks. We must find out definitely which of us is to have that sweater." + </p> + <p> + "Let's go back and ask her," said Peter. + </p> + <p> + So they turned back and rang the bell and went into the house and + presented themselves before Miss Forrester. + </p> + <p> + "Lovely evening," said James, to break the ice. + </p> + <p> + "Superb," said Peter. + </p> + <p> + "Delightful," said Miss Forrester, looking a little surprised at finding + the troupe playing a return date without having booked it in advance. + </p> + <p> + "To settle a bet," said James, "will you please tell us who—I should + say, whom—you are knitting that sweater for?" + </p> + <p> + "It is not a sweater," replied Miss Forrester, with a womanly candour that + well became her. "It is a sock. And it is for my cousin Juliet's youngest + son, Willie." + </p> + <p> + "Good night," said James. + </p> + <p> + "Good night," said Peter. + </p> + <p> + "Good night," said Grace Forrester. + </p> + <p> + It was during the long hours of the night, when ideas so often come to + wakeful men, that James was struck by an admirable solution of his and + Peter's difficulty. It seemed to him that, were one or the other to leave + Woodhaven, the survivor would find himself in a position to conduct his + wooing as wooing should be conducted. Hitherto, as I have indicated, + neither had allowed the other to be more than a few minutes alone with the + girl. They watched each other like hawks. When James called, Peter called. + When Peter dropped in, James invariably popped round. The thing had + resolved itself into a stalemate. + </p> + <p> + The idea which now came to James was that he and Peter should settle their + rivalry by an eighteen-hole match on the links. He thought very highly of + the idea before he finally went to sleep, and in the morning the scheme + looked just as good to him as it had done overnight. + </p> + <p> + James was breakfasting next morning, preparatory to going round to + disclose his plan to Peter, when Peter walked in, looking happier than he + had done for days. + </p> + <p> + "'Morning," said James. + </p> + <p> + "'Morning," said Peter. + </p> + <p> + Peter sat down and toyed absently with a slice of bacon. + </p> + <p> + "I've got an idea," he said. + </p> + <p> + "One isn't many," said James, bringing his knife down with a jerk-shot on + a fried egg. "What is your idea?" + </p> + <p> + "Got it last night as I was lying awake. It struck me that, if either of + us was to clear out of this place, the other would have a fair chance. You + know what I mean—with Her. At present we've got each other stymied. + Now, how would it be," said Peter, abstractedly spreading marmalade on his + bacon, "if we were to play an eighteen-hole match, the loser to leg out of + the neighbourhood and stay away long enough to give the winner the chance + to find out exactly how things stood?" + </p> + <p> + James started so violently that he struck himself in the left eye with his + fork. + </p> + <p> + "That's exactly the idea I got last night, too." + </p> + <p> + "Then it's a go?" + </p> + <p> + "It's the only thing to do." + </p> + <p> + There was silence for a moment. Both men were thinking. Remember, they + were friends. For years they had shared each other's sorrows, joys, and + golf-balls, and sliced into the same bunkers. + </p> + <p> + Presently Peter said: + </p> + <p> + "I shall miss you." + </p> + <p> + "What do you mean, miss me?" + </p> + <p> + "When you're gone. Woodhaven won't seem the same place. But of course + you'll soon be able to come back. I sha'n't waste any time proposing." + </p> + <p> + "Leave me your address," said James, "and I'll send you a wire when you + can return. You won't be offended if I don't ask you to be best man at the + wedding? In the circumstances it might be painful to you." + </p> + <p> + Peter sighed dreamily. + </p> + <p> + "We'll have the sitting-room done in blue. Her eyes are blue." + </p> + <p> + "Remember," said James, "there will always be a knife and fork for you at + our little nest. Grace is not the woman to want me to drop my bachelor + friends." + </p> + <p> + "Touching this match," said Peter. "Strict Royal and Ancient rules, of + course?" + </p> + <p> + "Certainly." + </p> + <p> + "I mean to say—no offence, old man—but no grounding niblicks + in bunkers." + </p> + <p> + "Precisely. And, without hinting at anything personal, the ball shall be + considered holed-out only when it is in the hole, not when it stops on the + edge." + </p> + <p> + "Undoubtedly. And—you know I don't want to hurt your feelings—missing + the ball counts as a stroke, not as a practice-swing." + </p> + <p> + "Exactly. And—you'll forgive me if I mention it—a player whose + ball has fallen in the rough, may not pull up all the bushes within a + radius of three feet." + </p> + <p> + "In fact, strict rules." + </p> + <p> + "Strict rules." + </p> + <p> + They shook hands without more words. And presently Peter walked out, and + James, with a guilty look over his shoulder, took down Sandy MacBean's + great work from the bookshelf and began to study the photograph of the + short approach-shot showing Mr. MacBean swinging from Point A, through + dotted line B-C, to Point D, his head the while remaining rigid at the + spot marked with a cross. He felt a little guiltily that he had stolen a + march on his friend, and that the contest was as good as over. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + I cannot recall a lovelier summer day than that on which the great + Todd-Willard eighteen-hole match took place. It had rained during the + night, and now the sun shone down from a clear blue sky on to turf that + glistened more greenly than the young grass of early spring. Butterflies + flitted to and fro; birds sang merrily. In short, all Nature smiled. And + it is to be doubted if Nature ever had a better excuse for smiling—or + even laughing outright; for matches like that between James Todd and Peter + Willard do not occur every day. + </p> + <p> + Whether it was that love had keyed them up, or whether hours of study of + Braid's "Advanced Golf" and the Badminton Book had produced a belated + effect, I cannot say; but both started off quite reasonably well. Our + first hole, as you can see, is a bogey four, and James was dead on the pin + in seven, leaving Peter, who had twice hit the United Kingdom with his + mashie in mistake for the ball, a difficult putt for the half. Only one + thing could happen when you left Peter a difficult putt; and James + advanced to the lake hole one up, Peter, as he followed, trying to console + himself with the thought that many of the best golfers prefer to lose the + first hole and save themselves for a strong finish. + </p> + <p> + Peter and James had played over the lake hole so often that they had + become accustomed to it, and had grown into the habit of sinking a ball or + two as a preliminary formality with much the same stoicism displayed by + those kings in ancient and superstitious times who used to fling jewellery + into the sea to propitiate it before they took a voyage. But today, by one + of those miracles without which golf would not be golf, each of them got + over with his first shot—and not only over, but dead on the pin. Our + "pro." himself could not have done better. + </p> + <p> + I think it was at this point that the two men began to go to pieces. They + were in an excited frame of mind, and this thing unmanned them. You will + no doubt recall Keats's poem about stout Cortez staring with eagle eyes at + the Pacific while all his men gazed at each other with a wild surmise, + silent upon a peak in Darien. Precisely so did Peter Willard and James + Todd stare with eagle eyes at the second lake hole, and gaze at each other + with a wild surmise, silent upon a tee in Woodhaven. They had dreamed of + such a happening so often and woke to find the vision false, that at first + they could not believe that the thing had actually occurred. + </p> + <p> + "I got over!" whispered James, in an awed voice. + </p> + <p> + "So did I!" muttered Peter. + </p> + <p> + "In one!" + </p> + <p> + "With my very first!" + </p> + <p> + They walked in silence round the edge of the lake, and holed out. One putt + was enough for each, and they halved the hole with a two. Peter's previous + record was eight, and James had once done a seven. There are times when + strong men lose their self-control, and this was one of them. They reached + the third tee in a daze, and it was here that mortification began to set + in. + </p> + <p> + The third hole is another bogey four, up the hill and past the tree that + serves as a direction-post, the hole itself being out of sight. On his + day, James had often done it in ten and Peter in nine; but now they were + unnerved. James, who had the honour, shook visibly as he addressed his + ball. Three times he swung and only connected with the ozone; the fourth + time he topped badly. The discs had been set back a little way, and James + had the mournful distinction of breaking a record for the course by + playing his fifth shot from the tee. It was a low, raking brassey-shot, + which carried a heap of stones twenty feet to the right and finished in a + furrow. Peter, meanwhile, had popped up a lofty ball which came to rest + behind a stone. + </p> + <p> + It was now that the rigid rules governing this contest began to take their + toll. Had they been playing an ordinary friendly round, each would have + teed up on some convenient hillock and probably been past the tree with + their second, for James would, in ordinary circumstances, have taken his + drive back and regarded the strokes he had made as a little preliminary + practice to get him into midseason form. But today it was war to the + niblick, and neither man asked nor expected quarter. Peter's seventh shot + dislodged the stone, leaving him a clear field, and James, with his + eleventh, extricated himself from the furrow. Fifty feet from the tree + James was eighteen, Peter twelve; but then the latter, as every golfer + does at times, suddenly went right off his game. He hit the tree four + times, then hooked into the sand-bunkers to the left of the hole. James, + who had been playing a game that was steady without being brilliant, was + on the green in twenty-six, Peter taking twenty-seven. Poor putting lost + James the hole. Peter was down in thirty-three, but the pace was too hot + for James. He missed a two-foot putt for the half, and they went to the + fourth tee all square. + </p> + <p> + The fourth hole follows the curve of the road, on the other side of which + are picturesque woods. It presents no difficulties to the expert, but it + has pitfalls for the novice. The dashing player stands for a slice, while + the more cautious are satisfied if they can clear the bunker that spans + the fairway and lay their ball well out to the left, whence an iron shot + will take them to the green. Peter and James combined the two policies. + Peter aimed to the left and got a slice, and James, also aiming to the + left, topped into the bunker. Peter, realizing from experience the + futility of searching for his ball in the woods, drove a second, which + also disappeared into the jungle, as did his third. By the time he had + joined James in the bunker he had played his sixth. + </p> + <p> + It is the glorious uncertainty of golf that makes it the game it is. The + fact that James and Peter, lying side by side in the same bunker, had + played respectively one and six shots, might have induced an unthinking + observer to fancy the chances of the former. And no doubt, had he not + taken seven strokes to extricate himself from the pit, while his opponent, + by some act of God, contrived to get out in two, James's chances might + have been extremely rosy. As it was, the two men staggered out on to the + fairway again with a score of eight apiece. Once past the bunker and round + the bend of the road, the hole becomes simple. A judicious use of the + cleek put Peter on the green in fourteen, while James, with a Braid iron, + reached it in twelve. Peter was down in seventeen, and James contrived to + halve. It was only as he was leaving the hole that the latter discovered + that he had been putting with his niblick, which cannot have failed to + exercise a prejudicial effect on his game. These little incidents are + bound to happen when one is in a nervous and highly-strung condition. + </p> + <p> + The fifth and sixth holes produced no unusual features. Peter won the + fifth in eleven, and James the sixth in ten. The short seventh they halved + in nine. The eighth, always a tricky hole, they took no liberties with, + James, sinking a long putt with his twenty-third, just managing to halve. + A ding-dong race up the hill for the ninth found James first at the pin, + and they finished the first nine with James one up. + </p> + <p> + As they left the green James looked a little furtively at his companion. + </p> + <p> + "You might be strolling on to the tenth," he said. "I want to get a few + balls at the shop. And my mashie wants fixing up. I sha'n't be long." + </p> + <p> + "I'll come with you," said Peter. + </p> + <p> + "Don't bother," said James. "You go on and hold our place at the tee." + </p> + <p> + I regret to say that James was lying. His mashie was in excellent repair, + and he still had a dozen balls in his bag, it being his prudent practice + always to start out with eighteen. No! What he had said was mere + subterfuge. He wanted to go to his locker and snatch a few minutes with + Sandy MacBean's "How to Become a Scratch Man". He felt sure that one more + glance at the photograph of Mr. MacBean driving would give him the mastery + of the stroke and so enable him to win the match. In this I think he was a + little sanguine. The difficulty about Sandy MacBean's method of tuition + was that he laid great stress on the fact that the ball should be directly + in a line with a point exactly in the centre of the back of the player's + neck; and so far James's efforts to keep his eye on the ball and on the + back of his neck simultaneously had produced no satisfactory results. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + It seemed to James, when he joined Peter on the tenth tee, that the + latter's manner was strange. He was pale. There was a curious look in his + eye. + </p> + <p> + "James, old man," he said. + </p> + <p> + "Yes?" said James. + </p> + <p> + "While you were away I have been thinking. James, old man, do you really + love this girl?" + </p> + <p> + James stared. A spasm of pain twisted Peter's face. + </p> + <p> + "Suppose," he said in a low voice, "she were not all you—we—think + she is!" + </p> + <p> + "What do you mean?" + </p> + <p> + "Nothing, nothing." + </p> + <p> + "Miss Forrester is an angel." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, yes. Quite so." + </p> + <p> + "I know what it is," said James, passionately. "You're trying to put me + off my stroke. You know that the least thing makes me lose my form." + </p> + <p> + "No, no!" + </p> + <p> + "You hope that you can take my mind off the game and make me go to pieces, + and then you'll win the match." + </p> + <p> + "On the contrary," said Peter. "I intend to forfeit the match." + </p> + <p> + James reeled. + </p> + <p> + "What!" + </p> + <p> + "I give up." + </p> + <p> + "But—but——" James shook with emotion. His voice + quavered. "Ah!" he cried. "I see now: I understand! You are doing this for + me because I am your pal. Peter, this is noble! This is the sort of thing + you read about in books. I've seen it in the movies. But I can't accept + the sacrifice." + </p> + <p> + "You must!" + </p> + <p> + "No, no!" + </p> + <p> + "I insist!" + </p> + <p> + "Do you mean this?" + </p> + <p> + "I give her up, James, old man. I—I hope you will be happy." + </p> + <p> + "But I don't know what to say. How can I thank you?" + </p> + <p> + "Don't thank me." + </p> + <p> + "But, Peter, do you fully realize what you are doing? True, I am one up, + but there are nine holes to go, and I am not right on my game today. You + might easily beat me. Have you forgotten that I once took forty-seven at + the dog-leg hole? This may be one of my bad days. Do you understand that + if you insist on giving up I shall go to Miss Forrester tonight and + propose to her?" + </p> + <p> + "I understand." + </p> + <p> + "And yet you stick to it that you are through?" + </p> + <p> + "I do. And, by the way, there's no need for you to wait till tonight. I + saw Miss Forrester just now outside the tennis court. She's alone." + </p> + <p> + James turned crimson. + </p> + <p> + "Then I think perhaps——" + </p> + <p> + "You'd better go to her at once." + </p> + <p> + "I will." James extended his hand. "Peter, old man, I shall never forget + this." + </p> + <p> + "That's all right." + </p> + <p> + "What are you going to do?" + </p> + <p> + "Now, do you mean? Oh, I shall potter round the second nine. If you want + me, you'll find me somewhere about." + </p> + <p> + "You'll come to the wedding, Peter?" said James, wistfully. + </p> + <p> + "Of course," said Peter. "Good luck." + </p> + <p> + He spoke cheerily, but, when the other had turned to go, he stood looking + after him thoughtfully. Then he sighed a heavy sigh. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + James approached Miss Forrester with a beating heart. She made a charming + picture as she stood there in the sunlight, one hand on her hip, the other + swaying a tennis racket. + </p> + <p> + "How do you do?" said James. + </p> + <p> + "How are you, Mr. Todd? Have you been playing golf?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + "With Mr. Willard?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes. We were having a match." + </p> + <p> + "Golf," said Grace Forrester, "seems to make men very rude. Mr. Willard + left me without a word in the middle of our conversation." + </p> + <p> + James was astonished. + </p> + <p> + "Were you talking to Peter?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes. Just now. I can't understand what was the matter with him. He just + turned on his heel and swung off." + </p> + <p> + "You oughtn't to turn on your heel when you swing," said James; "only on + the ball of the foot." + </p> + <p> + "I beg your pardon?" + </p> + <p> + "Nothing, nothing. I wasn't thinking. The fact is, I've something on my + mind. So has Peter. You mustn't think too hardly of him. We have been + playing an important match, and it must have got on his nerves. You didn't + happen by any chance to be watching us?" + </p> + <p> + "No." + </p> + <p> + "Ah! I wish you had seen me at the lake-hole. I did it one under par." + </p> + <p> + "Was your father playing?" + </p> + <p> + "You don't understand. I mean I did it in one better than even the finest + player is supposed to do it. It's a mashie-shot, you know. You mustn't + play too light, or you fall in the lake; and you mustn't play it too hard, + or you go past the hole into the woods. It requires the nicest delicacy + and judgment, such as I gave it. You might have to wait a year before + seeing anyone do it in two again. I doubt if the 'pro.' often does it in + two. Now, directly we came to this hole today, I made up my mind that + there was going to be no mistake. The great secret of any shot at golf is + ease, elegance, and the ability to relax. The majority of men, you will + find, think it important that their address should be good." + </p> + <p> + "How snobbish! What does it matter where a man lives?" + </p> + <p> + "You don't absolutely follow me. I refer to the waggle and the stance + before you make the stroke. Most players seem to fix in their minds the + appearance of the angles which are presented by the position of the arms, + legs, and club shaft, and it is largely the desire to retain these angles + which results in their moving their heads and stiffening their muscles so + that there is no freedom in the swing. There is only one point which + vitally affects the stroke, and the only reason why that should be kept + constant is that you are enabled to see your ball clearly. That is the + pivotal point marked at the base of the neck, and a line drawn from this + point to the ball should be at right angles to the line of flight." + </p> + <p> + James paused for a moment for air, and as he paused Miss Forrester spoke. + </p> + <p> + "This is all gibberish to me," she said. + </p> + <p> + "Gibberish!" gasped James. "I am quoting verbatim from one of the best + authorities on golf." + </p> + <p> + Miss Forrester swung her tennis racket irritably. + </p> + <p> + "Golf," she said, "bores me pallid. I think it is the silliest game ever + invented!" + </p> + <p> + The trouble about telling a story is that words are so feeble a means of + depicting the supreme moments of life. That is where the artist has the + advantage over the historian. Were I an artist, I should show James at + this point falling backwards with his feet together and his eyes shut, + with a semi-circular dotted line marking the progress of his flight and a + few stars above his head to indicate moral collapse. There are no words + that can adequately describe the sheer, black horror that froze the blood + in his veins as this frightful speech smote his ears. + </p> + <p> + He had never inquired into Miss Forrester's religious views before, but he + had always assumed that they were sound. And now here she was polluting + the golden summer air with the most hideous blasphemy. It would be + incorrect to say that James's love was turned to hate. He did not hate + Grace. The repulsion he felt was deeper than mere hate. What he felt was + not altogether loathing and not wholly pity. It was a blend of the two. + </p> + <p> + There was a tense silence. The listening world stood still. Then, without + a word, James Todd turned and tottered away. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Peter was working moodily in the twelfth bunker when his friend arrived. + He looked up with a start. Then, seeing that the other was alone, he came + forward hesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + "Am I to congratulate you?" + </p> + <p> + James breathed a deep breath. + </p> + <p> + "You are!" he said. "On an escape!" + </p> + <p> + "She refused you?" + </p> + <p> + "She didn't get the chance. Old man, have you ever sent one right up the + edge of that bunker in front of the seventh and just not gone in?" + </p> + <p> + "Very rarely." + </p> + <p> + "I did once. It was my second shot, from a good lie, with the light iron, + and I followed well through and thought I had gone just too far, and, when + I walked up, there was my ball on the edge of the bunker, nicely teed up + on a chunk of grass, so that I was able to lay it dead with my + mashie-niblick, holing out in six. Well, what I mean to say is, I feel now + as I felt then—as if some unseen power had withheld me in time from + some frightful disaster." + </p> + <p> + "I know just how you feel," said Peter, gravely. + </p> + <p> + "Peter, old man, that girl said golf bored her pallid. She said she + thought it was the silliest game ever invented." He paused to mark the + effect of his words. Peter merely smiled a faint, wan smile. "You don't + seem revolted," said James. + </p> + <p> + "I am revolted, but not surprised. You see, she said the same thing to me + only a few minutes before." + </p> + <p> + "She did!" + </p> + <p> + "It amounted to the same thing. I had just been telling her how I did the + lake-hole today in two, and she said that in her opinion golf was a game + for children with water on the brain who weren't athletic enough to play + Animal Grab." + </p> + <p> + The two men shivered in sympathy. + </p> + <p> + "There must be insanity in the family," said James at last. + </p> + <p> + "That," said Peter, "is the charitable explanation." + </p> + <p> + "We were fortunate to find it out in time." + </p> + <p> + "We were!" + </p> + <p> + "We mustn't run a risk like that again." + </p> + <p> + "Never again!" + </p> + <p> + "I think we had better take up golf really seriously. It will keep us out + of mischief." + </p> + <p> + "You're quite right. We ought to do our four rounds a day regularly." + </p> + <p> + "In spring, summer, and autumn. And in winter it would be rash not to + practise most of the day at one of those indoor schools." + </p> + <p> + "We ought to be safe that way." + </p> + <p> + "Peter, old man," said James, "I've been meaning to speak to you about it + for some time. I've got Sandy MacBean's new book, and I think you ought to + read it. It is full of helpful hints." + </p> + <p> + "James!" + </p> + <p> + "Peter!" + </p> + <p> + Silently the two men clasped hands. James Todd and Peter Willard were + themselves again. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + And so (said the Oldest Member) we come back to our original + starting-point—to wit, that, while there is nothing to be said + definitely against love, your golfer should be extremely careful how he + indulges in it. It may improve his game or it may not. But, if he finds + that there is any danger that it may not—if the object of his + affections is not the kind of girl who will listen to him with cheerful + sympathy through the long evenings, while he tells her, illustrating + stance and grip and swing with the kitchen poker, each detail of the day's + round—then, I say unhesitatingly, he had better leave it alone. Love + has had a lot of press-agenting from the oldest times; but there are + higher, nobler things than love. A woman is only a woman, but a hefty + drive is a slosh. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 3 — <i>A Mixed Threesome</i> + </h2> + <p> + It was the holiday season, and during the holidays the Greens Committees + have decided that the payment of twenty guineas shall entitle fathers of + families not only to infest the course themselves, but also to decant + their nearest and dearest upon it in whatever quantity they please. All + over the links, in consequence, happy, laughing groups of children had + broken out like a rash. A wan-faced adult, who had been held up for ten + minutes while a drove of issue quarrelled over whether little Claude had + taken two hundred or two hundred and twenty approach shots to reach the + ninth green sank into a seat beside the Oldest Member. + </p> + <p> + "What luck?" inquired the Sage. + </p> + <p> + "None to speak of," returned the other, moodily. "I thought I had bagged a + small boy in a Lord Fauntleroy suit on the sixth, but he ducked. These + children make me tired. They should be bowling their hoops in the road. + Golf is a game for grownups. How can a fellow play, with a platoon of + progeny blocking him at every hole?" + </p> + <p> + The Oldest Member shook his head. He could not subscribe to these + sentiments. + </p> + <p> + No doubt (said the Oldest Member) the summer golf-child is, from the point + of view of the player who likes to get round the course in a single + afternoon, something of a trial; but, personally, I confess, it pleases me + to see my fellow human beings—and into this category golf-children, + though at the moment you may not be broad-minded enough to admit it, + undoubtedly fall—taking to the noblest of games at an early age. + Golf, like measles, should be caught young, for, if postponed to riper + years, the results may be serious. Let me tell you the story of Mortimer + Sturgis, which illustrates what I mean rather aptly. + </p> + <p> + Mortimer Sturgis, when I first knew him, was a care-free man of + thirty-eight, of amiable character and independent means, which he + increased from time to time by judicious ventures on the Stock Exchange. + Although he had never played golf, his had not been altogether an + ill-spent life. He swung a creditable racket at tennis, was always ready + to contribute a baritone solo to charity concerts, and gave freely to the + poor. He was what you might call a golden-mean man, good-hearted rather + than magnetic, with no serious vices and no heroic virtues. For a hobby, + he had taken up the collecting of porcelain vases, and he was engaged to + Betty Weston, a charming girl of twenty-five, a lifelong friend of mine. + </p> + <p> + I like Mortimer. Everybody liked him. But, at the same time, I was a + little surprised that a girl like Betty should have become engaged to him. + As I said before, he was not magnetic; and magnetism, I thought, was the + chief quality she would have demanded in a man. Betty was one of those + ardent, vivid girls, with an intense capacity for hero-worship, and I + would have supposed that something more in the nature of a plumed knight + or a corsair of the deep would have been her ideal. But, of course, if + there is a branch of modern industry where the demand is greater than the + supply, it is the manufacture of knights and corsairs; and nowadays a + girl, however flaming her aspirations, has to take the best she can get. I + must admit that Betty seemed perfectly content with Mortimer. + </p> + <p> + Such, then, was the state of affairs when Eddie Denton arrived, and the + trouble began. + </p> + <p> + I was escorting Betty home one evening after a tea-party at which we had + been fellow-guests, when, walking down the road, we happened to espy + Mortimer. He broke into a run when he saw us, and galloped up, waving a + piece of paper in his hand. He was plainly excited, a thing which was + unusual in this well-balanced man. His broad, good-humoured face was + working violently. + </p> + <p> + "Good news!" he cried. "Good news! Dear old Eddie's back!" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, how nice for you, dear!" said Betty. "Eddie Denton is Mortimer's best + friend," she explained to me. "He has told me so much about him. I have + been looking forward to his coming home. Mortie thinks the world of him." + </p> + <p> + "So will you, when you know him," cried Mortimer. "Dear old Eddie! He's a + wonder! The best fellow on earth! We were at school and the 'Varsity + together. There's nobody like Eddie! He landed yesterday. Just home from + Central Africa. He's an explorer, you know," he said to me. "Spends all + his time in places where it's death for a white man to go." + </p> + <p> + "An explorer!" I heard Betty breathe, as if to herself. I was not so + impressed, I fear, as she was. Explorers, as a matter of fact, leave me a + trifle cold. It has always seemed to me that the difficulties of their + life are greatly exaggerated—generally by themselves. In a large + country like Africa, for instance, I should imagine that it was almost + impossible for a man not to get somewhere if he goes on long enough. Give + <i>me</i> the fellow who can plunge into the bowels of the earth at + Piccadilly Circus and find the right Tube train with nothing but a lot of + misleading signs to guide him. However, we are not all constituted alike + in this world, and it was apparent from the flush on her cheek and the + light in her eyes that Betty admired explorers. + </p> + <p> + "I wired to him at once," went on Mortimer, "and insisted on his coming + down here. It's two years since I saw him. You don't know how I have + looked forward, dear, to you and Eddie meeting. He is just your sort. I + know how romantic you are and keen on adventure and all that. Well, you + should hear Eddie tell the story of how he brought down the bull <i>bongo</i> + with his last cartridge after all the <i>pongos</i>, or native bearers, + had fled into the <i>dongo</i>, or undergrowth." + </p> + <p> + "I should love to!" whispered Betty, her eyes glowing. I suppose to an + impressionable girl these things really are of absorbing interest. For + myself, <i>bongos</i> intrigue me even less than <i>pongos</i>, while <i>dongos</i> + frankly bore me. "When do you expect him?" + </p> + <p> + "He will get my wire tonight. I'm hoping we shall see the dear old fellow + tomorrow afternoon some time. How surprised old Eddie will be to hear that + I'm engaged. He's such a confirmed bachelor himself. He told me once that + he considered the wisest thing ever said by human tongue was the Swahili + proverb—'Whoso taketh a woman into his kraal depositeth himself + straightway in the <i>wongo</i>.' <i>Wongo</i>, he tells me, is a sort of + broth composed of herbs and meat-bones, corresponding to our soup. You + must get Eddie to give it you in the original Swahili. It sounds even + better." + </p> + <p> + I saw the girl's eyes flash, and there came into her face that peculiar + set expression which married men know. It passed in an instant, but not + before it had given me material for thought which lasted me all the way to + my house and into the silent watches of the night. I was fond of Mortimer + Sturgis, and I could see trouble ahead for him as plainly as though I had + been a palmist reading his hand at two guineas a visit. There are other + proverbs fully as wise as the one which Mortimer had translated from the + Swahili, and one of the wisest is that quaint old East London saying, + handed down from one generation of costermongers to another, and whispered + at midnight in the wigwams of the whelk-seller! "Never introduce your + donah to a pal." In those seven words is contained the wisdom of the ages. + I could read the future so plainly. What but one thing could happen after + Mortimer had influenced Betty's imagination with his stories of his + friend's romantic career, and added the finishing touch by advertising him + as a woman-hater? He might just as well have asked for his ring back at + once. My heart bled for Mortimer. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * +</pre> + <p> + I happened to call at his house on the second evening of the explorer's + visit, and already the mischief had been done. + </p> + <p> + Denton was one of those lean, hard-bitten men with smouldering eyes and a + brick-red complexion. He looked what he was, the man of action and + enterprise. He had the wiry frame and strong jaw without which no explorer + is complete, and Mortimer, beside him, seemed but a poor, soft product of + our hot-house civilization. Mortimer, I forgot to say, wore glasses; and, + if there is one time more than another when a man should not wear glasses, + it is while a strong-faced, keen-eyed wanderer in the wilds is telling a + beautiful girl the story of his adventures. + </p> + <p> + For this was what Denton was doing. My arrival seemed to have interrupted + him in the middle of narrative. He shook my hand in a strong, silent sort + of way, and resumed: + </p> + <p> + "Well, the natives seemed fairly friendly, so I decided to stay the + night." + </p> + <p> + I made a mental note never to seem fairly friendly to an explorer. If you + do, he always decides to stay the night. + </p> + <p> + "In the morning they took me down to the river. At this point it widens + into a <i>kongo</i>, or pool, and it was here, they told me, that the + crocodile mostly lived, subsisting on the native oxen—the + short-horned <i>jongos</i>—which, swept away by the current while + crossing the ford above, were carried down on the <i>longos</i>, or + rapids. It was not, however, till the second evening that I managed to + catch sight of his ugly snout above the surface. I waited around, and on + the third day I saw him suddenly come out of the water and heave his whole + length on to a sandbank in mid-stream and go to sleep in the sun. He was + certainly a monster—fully thirty—you have never been in + Central Africa, have you, Miss Weston? No? You ought to go there!—fully + fifty feet from tip to tail. There he lay, glistening. I shall never + forget the sight." + </p> + <p> + He broke off to light a cigarette. I heard Betty draw in her breath + sharply. Mortimer was beaming through his glasses with the air of the + owner of a dog which is astonishing a drawing-room with its clever tricks. + </p> + <p> + "And what did you do then, Mr. Denton?" asked Betty, breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, what did you do then, old chap?" said Mortimer. + </p> + <p> + Denton blew out the match and dropped it on the ash-tray. + </p> + <p> + "Eh? Oh," he said, carelessly, "I swam across and shot him." + </p> + <p> + "Swam across and shot him!" + </p> + <p> + "Yes. It seemed to me that the chance was too good to be missed. Of + course, I might have had a pot at him from the bank, but the chances were + I wouldn't have hit him in a vital place. So I swam across to the + sandbank, put the muzzle of my gun in his mouth, and pulled the trigger. I + have rarely seen a crocodile so taken aback." + </p> + <p> + "But how dreadfully dangerous!" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, danger!" Eddie Denton laughed lightly. "One drops into the habit of + taking a few risks out there, you know. Talking of <i>danger</i>, the time + when things really did look a little nasty was when the wounded <i>gongo</i> + cornered me in a narrow <i>tongo</i> and I only had a pocket-knife with + everything in it broken except the corkscrew and the thing for taking + stones out of horses' hoofs. It was like this——" + </p> + <p> + I could bear no more. I am a tender-hearted man, and I made some excuse + and got away. From the expression on the girl's face I could see that it + was only a question of days before she gave her heart to this romantic + newcomer. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + As a matter of fact, it was on the following afternoon that she called on + me and told me that the worst had happened. I had known her from a child, + you understand, and she always confided her troubles to me. + </p> + <p> + "I want your advice," she began. "I'm so wretched!" + </p> + <p> + She burst into tears. I could see the poor girl was in a highly nervous + condition, so I did my best to calm her by describing how I had once done + the long hole in four. My friends tell me that there is no finer + soporific, and it seemed as though they may be right, for presently, just + as I had reached the point where I laid my approach-putt dead from a + distance of fifteen feet, she became quieter. She dried her eyes, yawned + once or twice, and looked at me bravely. + </p> + <p> + "I love Eddie Denton!" she said. + </p> + <p> + "I feared as much. When did you feel this coming on?" + </p> + <p> + "It crashed on me like a thunderbolt last night after dinner. We were + walking in the garden, and he was just telling me how he had been bitten + by a poisonous <i>zongo</i>, when I seemed to go all giddy. When I came to + myself I was in Eddie's arms. His face was pressed against mine, and he + was gargling." + </p> + <p> + "Gargling?" + </p> + <p> + "I thought so at first. But he reassured me. He was merely speaking in one + of the lesser-known dialects of the Walla-Walla natives of Eastern Uganda, + into which he always drops in moments of great emotion. He soon recovered + sufficiently to give me a rough translation, and then I knew that he loved + me. He kissed me. I kissed him. We kissed each other." + </p> + <p> + "And where was Mortimer all this while?" + </p> + <p> + "Indoors, cataloguing his collection of vases." + </p> + <p> + For a moment, I confess, I was inclined to abandon Mortimer's cause. A + man, I felt, who could stay indoors cataloguing vases while his <i>fiancee</i> + wandered in the moonlight with explorers deserved all that was coming to + him. I overcame the feeling. + </p> + <p> + "Have you told him?" + </p> + <p> + "Of course not." + </p> + <p> + "You don't think it might be of interest to him?" + </p> + <p> + "How can I tell him? It would break his heart. I am awfully fond of + Mortimer. So is Eddie. We would both die rather than do anything to hurt + him. Eddie is the soul of honour. He agrees with me that Mortimer must + never know." + </p> + <p> + "Then you aren't going to break off your engagement?" + </p> + <p> + "I couldn't. Eddie feels the same. He says that, unless something can be + done, he will say good-bye to me and creep far, far away to some distant + desert, and there, in the great stillness, broken only by the cry of the + prowling <i>yongo</i>, try to forget." + </p> + <p> + "When you say 'unless something can be done,' what do you mean? What can + be done?" + </p> + <p> + "I thought you might have something to suggest. Don't you think it + possible that somehow Mortimer might take it into his head to break the + engagement himself?" + </p> + <p> + "Absurd! He loves you devotedly." + </p> + <p> + "I'm afraid so. Only the other day I dropped one of his best vases, and he + just smiled and said it didn't matter." + </p> + <p> + "I can give you even better proof than that. This morning Mortimer came to + me and asked me to give him secret lessons in golf." + </p> + <p> + "Golf! But he despises golf." + </p> + <p> + "Exactly. But he is going to learn it for your sake." + </p> + <p> + "But why secret lessons?" + </p> + <p> + "Because he wants to keep it a surprise for your birthday. Now can you + doubt his love?" + </p> + <p> + "I am not worthy of him!" she whispered. + </p> + <p> + The words gave me an idea. + </p> + <p> + "Suppose," I said, "we could convince Mortimer of that!" + </p> + <p> + "I don't understand." + </p> + <p> + "Suppose, for instance, he could be made to believe that you were, let us + say, a dipsomaniac." + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. "He knows that already." + </p> + <p> + "What!" + </p> + <p> + "Yes; I told him I sometimes walked in my sleep." + </p> + <p> + "I mean a secret drinker." + </p> + <p> + "Nothing will induce me to pretend to be a secret drinker." + </p> + <p> + "Then a drug-fiend?" I suggested, hopefully. + </p> + <p> + "I hate medicine." + </p> + <p> + "I have it!" I said. "A kleptomaniac." + </p> + <p> + "What is that?" + </p> + <p> + "A person who steals things." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, that's horrid." + </p> + <p> + "Not at all. It's a perfectly ladylike thing to do. You don't know you do + it." + </p> + <p> + "But, if I don't know I do it, how do I know I do it?" + </p> + <p> + "I beg your pardon?" + </p> + <p> + "I mean, how can I tell Mortimer I do it if I don't know?" + </p> + <p> + "You don't tell him. I will tell him. I will inform him tomorrow that you + called on me this afternoon and stole my watch and"—I glanced about + the room—"my silver matchbox." + </p> + <p> + "I'd rather have that little vinaigrette." + </p> + <p> + "You don't get either. I merely say you stole it. What will happen?" + </p> + <p> + "Mortimer will hit you with a cleek." + </p> + <p> + "Not at all. I am an old man. My white hairs protect me. What he will do + is to insist on confronting me with you and asking you to deny the foul + charge." + </p> + <p> + "And then?" + </p> + <p> + "Then you admit it and release him from his engagement." + </p> + <p> + She sat for a while in silence. I could see that my words had made an + impression. + </p> + <p> + "I think it's a splendid idea. Thank you very much." She rose and moved to + the door. "I knew you would suggest something wonderful." She hesitated. + "You don't think it would make it sound more plausible if I really took + the vinaigrette?" she added, a little wistfully. + </p> + <p> + "It would spoil everything," I replied, firmly, as I reached for the + vinaigrette and locked it carefully in my desk. + </p> + <p> + She was silent for a moment, and her glance fell on the carpet. That, + however, did not worry me. It was nailed down. + </p> + <p> + "Well, good-bye," she said. + </p> + <p> + "<i>Au revoir</i>," I replied. "I am meeting Mortimer at six-thirty + tomorrow. You may expect us round at your house at about eight." + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Mortimer was punctual at the tryst next morning. When I reached the tenth + tee he was already there. We exchanged a brief greeting and I handed him a + driver, outlined the essentials of grip and swing, and bade him go to it. + </p> + <p> + "It seems a simple game," he said, as he took his stance. "You're sure + it's fair to have the ball sitting up on top of a young sand-hill like + this?" + </p> + <p> + "Perfectly fair." + </p> + <p> + "I mean, I don't want to be coddled because I'm a beginner." + </p> + <p> + "The ball is always teed up for the drive," I assured him. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, well, if you say so. But it seems to me to take all the element of + sport out of the game. Where do I hit it?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, straight ahead." + </p> + <p> + "But isn't it dangerous? I mean, suppose I smash a window in that house + over there?" + </p> + <p> + He indicated a charming bijou residence some five hundred yards down the + fairway. + </p> + <p> + "In that case," I replied, "the owner comes out in his pyjamas and offers + you the choice between some nuts and a cigar." + </p> + <p> + He seemed reassured, and began to address the ball. Then he paused again. + </p> + <p> + "Isn't there something you say before you start?" he asked. "'Five', or + something?" + </p> + <p> + "You may say 'Fore!' if it makes you feel any easier. But it isn't + necessary." + </p> + <p> + "If I am going to learn this silly game," said Mortimer, firmly, "I am + going to learn it <i>right</i>. Fore!" + </p> + <p> + I watched him curiously. I never put a club into the hand of a beginner + without something of the feeling of the sculptor who surveys a mass of + shapeless clay. I experience the emotions of a creator. Here, I say to + myself, is a semi-sentient being into whose soulless carcass I am + breathing life. A moment before, he was, though technically living, a mere + clod. A moment hence he will be a golfer. + </p> + <p> + While I was still occupied with these meditations Mortimer swung at the + ball. The club, whizzing down, brushed the surface of the rubber sphere, + toppling it off the tee and propelling it six inches with a slight slice + on it. + </p> + <p> + "Damnation!" said Mortimer, unravelling himself. + </p> + <p> + I nodded approvingly. His drive had not been anything to write to the + golfing journals about, but he was picking up the technique of the game. + </p> + <p> + "What happened then?" + </p> + <p> + I told him in a word. + </p> + <p> + "Your stance was wrong, and your grip was wrong, and you moved your head, + and swayed your body, and took your eye off the ball, and pressed, and + forgot to use your wrists, and swung back too fast, and let the hands get + ahead of the club, and lost your balance, and omitted to pivot on the ball + of the left foot, and bent your right knee." + </p> + <p> + He was silent for a moment. + </p> + <p> + "There is more in this pastime," he said, "than the casual observer would + suspect." + </p> + <p> + I have noticed, and I suppose other people have noticed, that in the golf + education of every man there is a definite point at which he may be said + to have crossed the dividing line—the Rubicon, as it were—that + separates the golfer from the non-golfer. This moment comes immediately + after his first good drive. In the ninety minutes in which I instructed + Mortimer Sturgis that morning in the rudiments of the game, he made every + variety of drive known to science; but it was not till we were about to + leave that he made a good one. + </p> + <p> + A moment before he had surveyed his blistered hands with sombre disgust. + </p> + <p> + "It's no good," he said. "I shall never learn this beast of a game. And I + don't want to either. It's only fit for lunatics. Where's the sense in it? + Hitting a rotten little ball with a stick! If I want exercise, I'll take a + stick and go and rattle it along the railings. There's something <i>in</i> + that! Well, let's be getting along. No good wasting the whole morning out + here." + </p> + <p> + "Try one more drive, and then we'll go." + </p> + <p> + "All right. If you like. No sense in it, though." + </p> + <p> + He teed up the ball, took a careless stance, and flicked moodily. There + was a sharp crack, the ball shot off the tee, flew a hundred yards in a + dead straight line never ten feet above the ground, soared another seventy + yards in a graceful arc, struck the turf, rolled, and came to rest within + easy mashie distance of the green. + </p> + <p> + "Splendid!" I cried. + </p> + <p> + The man seemed stunned. + </p> + <p> + "How did that happen?" + </p> + <p> + I told him very simply. + </p> + <p> + "Your stance was right, and your grip was right, and you kept your head + still, and didn't sway your body, and never took your eye off the ball, + and slowed back, and let the arms come well through, and rolled the + wrists, and let the club-head lead, and kept your balance, and pivoted on + the ball of the left foot, and didn't duck the right knee." + </p> + <p> + "I see," he said. "Yes, I thought that must be it." + </p> + <p> + "Now let's go home." + </p> + <p> + "Wait a minute. I just want to remember what I did while it's fresh in my + mind. Let me see, this was the way I stood. Or was it more like this? No, + like this." He turned to me, beaming. "What a great idea it was, my taking + up golf! It's all nonsense what you read in the comic papers about people + foozling all over the place and breaking clubs and all that. You've only + to exercise a little reasonable care. And what a corking game it is! + Nothing like it in the world! I wonder if Betty is up yet. I must go round + and show her how I did that drive. A perfect swing, with every ounce of + weight, wrist, and muscle behind it. I meant to keep it a secret from the + dear girl till I had really learned, but of course I <i>have</i> learned + now. Let's go round and rout her out." + </p> + <p> + He had given me my cue. I put my hand on his shoulder and spoke + sorrowfully. + </p> + <p> + "Mortimer, my boy, I fear I have bad news for you." + </p> + <p> + "Slow; back—keep the head—— What's that? Bad news?" + </p> + <p> + "About Betty." + </p> + <p> + "About Betty? What about her? Don't sway the body—keep the eye on + the——" + </p> + <p> + "Prepare yourself for a shock, my boy. Yesterday afternoon Betty called to + see me. When she had gone I found that she had stolen my silver matchbox." + </p> + <p> + "Stolen your matchbox?" + </p> + <p> + "Stolen my matchbox." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, well, I dare say there were faults on both sides," said Mortimer. + "Tell me if I sway my body this time." + </p> + <p> + "You don't grasp what I have said! Do you realize that Betty, the girl you + are going to marry, is a kleptomaniac?" + </p> + <p> + "A kleptomaniac!" + </p> + <p> + "That is the only possible explanation. Think what this means, my boy. + Think how you will feel every time your wife says she is going out to do a + little shopping! Think of yourself, left alone at home, watching the + clock, saying to yourself, 'Now she is lifting a pair of silk stockings!' + 'Now she is hiding gloves in her umbrella!' 'Just about this moment she is + getting away with a pearl necklace!'" + </p> + <p> + "Would she do that?" + </p> + <p> + "She would! She could not help herself. Or, rather, she could not refrain + from helping herself. How about it, my boy?" + </p> + <p> + "It only draws us closer together," he said. + </p> + <p> + I was touched, I own. My scheme had failed, but it had proved Mortimer + Sturgis to be of pure gold. He stood gazing down the fairway, wrapped in + thought. + </p> + <p> + "By the way," he said, meditatively, "I wonder if the dear girl ever goes + to any of those sales—those auction-sales, you know, where you're + allowed to inspect the things the day before? They often have some pretty + decent vases." + </p> + <p> + He broke off and fell into a reverie. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + From this point onward Mortimer Sturgis proved the truth of what I said to + you about the perils of taking up golf at an advanced age. A lifetime of + observing my fellow-creatures has convinced me that Nature intended us all + to be golfers. In every human being the germ of golf is implanted at + birth, and suppression causes it to grow and grow till—it may be at + forty, fifty, sixty—it suddenly bursts its bonds and sweeps over the + victim like a tidal wave. The wise man, who begins to play in childhood, + is enabled to let the poison exude gradually from his system, with no + harmful results. But a man like Mortimer Sturgis, with thirty-eight + golfless years behind him, is swept off his feet. He is carried away. He + loses all sense of proportion. He is like the fly that happens to be + sitting on the wall of the dam just when the crack comes. + </p> + <p> + Mortimer Sturgis gave himself up without a struggle to an orgy of golf + such as I have never witnessed in any man. Within two days of that first + lesson he had accumulated a collection of clubs large enough to have + enabled him to open a shop; and he went on buying them at the rate of two + and three a day. On Sundays, when it was impossible to buy clubs, he was + like a lost spirit. True, he would do his regular four rounds on the day + of rest, but he never felt happy. The thought, as he sliced into the + rough, that the patent wooden-faced cleek which he intended to purchase + next morning might have made all the difference, completely spoiled his + enjoyment. + </p> + <p> + I remember him calling me up on the telephone at three o'clock one morning + to tell me that he had solved the problem of putting. He intended in + future, he said, to use a croquet mallet, and he wondered that no one had + ever thought of it before. The sound of his broken groan when I informed + him that croquet mallets were against the rules haunted me for days. + </p> + <p> + His golf library kept pace with his collection of clubs. He bought all the + standard works, subscribed to all the golfing papers, and, when he came + across a paragraph in a magazine to the effect that Mr. Hutchings, an + ex-amateur champion, did not begin to play till he was past forty, and + that his opponent in the final, Mr. S. H. Fry, had never held a club till + his thirty-fifth year, he had it engraved on vellum and framed and hung up + beside his shaving-mirror. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + And Betty, meanwhile? She, poor child, stared down the years into a bleak + future, in which she saw herself parted for ever from the man she loved, + and the golf-widow of another for whom—even when he won a medal for + lowest net at a weekly handicap with a score of a hundred and three minus + twenty-four—she could feel nothing warmer than respect. Those were + dreary days for Betty. We three—she and I and Eddie Denton—often + talked over Mortimer's strange obsession. Denton said that, except that + Mortimer had not come out in pink spots, his symptoms were almost + identical with those of the dreaded <i>mongo-mongo</i>, the scourge of the + West African hinterland. Poor Denton! He had already booked his passage + for Africa, and spent hours looking in the atlas for good deserts. + </p> + <p> + In every fever of human affairs there comes at last the crisis. We may + emerge from it healed or we may plunge into still deeper depths of + soul-sickness; but always the crisis comes. I was privileged to be present + when it came in the affairs of Mortimer Sturgis and Betty Weston. + </p> + <p> + I had gone into the club-house one afternoon at an hour when it is usually + empty, and the first thing I saw, as I entered the main room, which looks + out on the ninth green, was Mortimer. He was grovelling on the floor, and + I confess that, when I caught sight of him, my heart stood still. I feared + that his reason, sapped by dissipation, had given way. I knew that for + weeks, day in and day out, the niblick had hardly ever been out of his + hand, and no constitution can stand that. + </p> + <p> + He looked up as he heard my footstep. + </p> + <p> + "Hallo," he said. "Can you see a ball anywhere?" + </p> + <p> + "A ball?" I backed away, reaching for the door-handle. "My dear boy," I + said, soothingly, "you have made a mistake. Quite a natural mistake. One + anybody would have made. But, as a matter of fact, this is the club-house. + The links are outside there. Why not come away with me very quietly and + let us see if we can't find some balls on the links? If you will wait here + a moment, I will call up Doctor Smithson. He was telling me only this + morning that he wanted a good spell of ball-hunting to put him in shape. + You don't mind if he joins us?" + </p> + <p> + "It was a Silver King with my initials on it," Mortimer went on, not + heeding me. "I got on the ninth green in eleven with a nice + mashie-niblick, but my approach-putt was a little too strong. It came in + through that window." + </p> + <p> + I perceived for the first time that one of the windows facing the course + was broken, and my relief was great. I went down on my knees and helped + him in his search. We ran the ball to earth finally inside the piano. + </p> + <p> + "What's the local rule?" inquired Mortimer. "Must I play it where it lies, + or may I tee up and lose a stroke? If I have to play it where it lies, I + suppose a niblick would be the club?" + </p> + <p> + It was at this moment that Betty came in. One glance at her pale, set face + told me that there was to be a scene, and I would have retired, but that + she was between me and the door. + </p> + <p> + "Hallo, dear," said Mortimer, greeting her with a friendly waggle of his + niblick. "I'm bunkered in the piano. My approach-putt was a little strong, + and I over-ran the green." + </p> + <p> + "Mortimer," said the girl, tensely, "I want to ask you one question." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, dear? I wish, darling, you could have seen my drive at the eighth + just now. It was a pip!" + </p> + <p> + Betty looked at him steadily. + </p> + <p> + "Are we engaged," she said, "or are we not?" + </p> + <p> + "Engaged? Oh, to be married? Why, of course. I tried the open stance for a + change, and——" + </p> + <p> + "This morning you promised to take me for a ride. You never appeared. + Where were you?" + </p> + <p> + "Just playing golf." + </p> + <p> + "Golf! I'm sick of the very name!" + </p> + <p> + A spasm shook Mortimer. + </p> + <p> + "You mustn't let people hear you saying things like that!" he said. "I + somehow felt, the moment I began my up-swing, that everything was going to + be all right. I——" + </p> + <p> + "I'll give you one more chance. Will you take me for a drive in your car + this evening?" + </p> + <p> + "I can't." + </p> + <p> + "Why not? What are you doing?" + </p> + <p> + "Just playing golf!" + </p> + <p> + "I'm tired of being neglected like this!" cried Betty, stamping her foot. + Poor girl, I saw her point of view. It was bad enough for her being + engaged to the wrong man, without having him treat her as a mere + acquaintance. Her conscience fighting with her love for Eddie Denton had + kept her true to Mortimer, and Mortimer accepted the sacrifice with an + absent-minded carelessness which would have been galling to any girl. "We + might just as well not be engaged at all. You never take me anywhere." + </p> + <p> + "I asked you to come with me to watch the Open Championship." + </p> + <p> + "Why don't you ever take me to dances?" + </p> + <p> + "I can't dance." + </p> + <p> + "You could learn." + </p> + <p> + "But I'm not sure if dancing is a good thing for a fellow's game. You + never hear of any first-class pro. dancing. James Braid doesn't dance." + </p> + <p> + "Well, my mind's made up. Mortimer, you must choose between golf and me." + </p> + <p> + "But, darling, I went round in a hundred and one yesterday. You can't + expect a fellow to give up golf when he's at the top of his game." + </p> + <p> + "Very well. I have nothing more to say. Our engagement is at an end." + </p> + <p> + "Don't throw me over, Betty," pleaded Mortimer, and there was that in his + voice which cut me to the heart. "You'll make me so miserable. And, when + I'm miserable, I always slice my approach shots." + </p> + <p> + Betty Weston drew herself up. Her face was hard. + </p> + <p> + "Here is your ring!" she said, and swept from the room. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + For a moment after she had gone Mortimer remained very still, looking at + the glistening circle in his hand. I stole across the room and patted his + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + "Bear up, my boy, bear up!" I said. + </p> + <p> + He looked at me piteously. + </p> + <p> + "Stymied!" he muttered. + </p> + <p> + "Be brave!" + </p> + <p> + He went on, speaking as if to himself. + </p> + <p> + "I had pictured—ah, how often I had pictured!—our little home! + Hers and mine. She sewing in her arm-chair, I practising putts on the + hearth-rug——" He choked. "While in the corner, little Harry + Vardon Sturgis played with little J. H. Taylor Sturgis. And round the room—reading, + busy with their childish tasks—little George Duncan Sturgis, Abe + Mitchell Sturgis, Harold Hilton Sturgis, Edward Ray Sturgis, Horace + Hutchinson Sturgis, and little James Braid Sturgis." + </p> + <p> + "My boy! My boy!" I cried. + </p> + <p> + "What's the matter?" + </p> + <p> + "Weren't you giving yourself rather a large family?" + </p> + <p> + He shook his head moodily. + </p> + <p> + "Was I?" he said, dully. "I don't know. What's bogey?" + </p> + <p> + There was a silence. + </p> + <p> + "And yet——" he said, at last, in a low voice. He paused. An + odd, bright look had come into his eyes. He seemed suddenly to be himself + again, the old, happy Mortimer Sturgis I had known so well. "And yet," he + said, "who knows? Perhaps it is all for the best. They might all have + turned out tennis-players!" He raised his niblick again, his face aglow. + "Playing thirteen!" he said. "I think the game here would be to chip out + through the door and work round the club-house to the green, don't you?" + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Little remains to be told. Betty and Eddie have been happily married for + years. Mortimer's handicap is now down to eighteen, and he is improving + all the time. He was not present at the wedding, being unavoidably + detained by a medal tournament; but, if you turn up the files and look at + the list of presents, which were both numerous and costly, you will see—somewhere + in the middle of the column, the words: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + STURGIS, J. MORTIMER. + <i>Two dozen Silver King Golf-balls and one patent Sturgis + Aluminium Self-Adjusting, Self-Compensating Putting-Cleek.</i> +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 4 — <i>Sundered Hearts</i> + </h2> + <p> + In the smoking-room of the club-house a cheerful fire was burning, and the + Oldest Member glanced from time to time out of the window into the + gathering dusk. Snow was falling lightly on the links. From where he sat, + the Oldest Member had a good view of the ninth green; and presently, out + of the greyness of the December evening, there appeared over the brow of + the hill a golf-ball. It trickled across the green, and stopped within a + yard of the hole. The Oldest Member nodded approvingly. A good + approach-shot. + </p> + <p> + A young man in a tweed suit clambered on to the green, holed out with easy + confidence, and, shouldering his bag, made his way to the club-house. A + few moments later he entered the smoking-room, and uttered an exclamation + of rapture at the sight of the fire. + </p> + <p> + "I'm frozen stiff!" + </p> + <p> + He rang for a waiter and ordered a hot drink. The Oldest Member gave a + gracious assent to the suggestion that he should join him. + </p> + <p> + "I like playing in winter," said the young man. "You get the course to + yourself, for the world is full of slackers who only turn out when the + weather suits them. I cannot understand where they get the nerve to call + themselves golfers." + </p> + <p> + "Not everyone is as keen as you are, my boy," said the Sage, dipping + gratefully into his hot drink. "If they were, the world would be a better + place, and we should hear less of all this modern unrest." + </p> + <p> + "I <i>am</i> pretty keen," admitted the young man. + </p> + <p> + "I have only encountered one man whom I could describe as keener. I allude + to Mortimer Sturgis." + </p> + <p> + "The fellow who took up golf at thirty-eight and let the girl he was + engaged to marry go off with someone else because he hadn't the time to + combine golf with courtship? I remember. You were telling me about him the + other day." + </p> + <p> + "There is a sequel to that story, if you would care to hear it," said the + Oldest Member. + </p> + <p> + "You have the honour," said the young man. "Go ahead!" + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Some people (began the Oldest Member) considered that Mortimer Sturgis was + too wrapped up in golf, and blamed him for it. I could never see eye to + eye with them. In the days of King Arthur nobody thought the worse of a + young knight if he suspended all his social and business engagements in + favour of a search for the Holy Grail. In the Middle Ages a man could + devote his whole life to the Crusades, and the public fawned upon him. + Why, then, blame the man of today for a zealous attention to the modern + equivalent, the Quest of Scratch! Mortimer Sturgis never became a scratch + player, but he did eventually get his handicap down to nine, and I honour + him for it. + </p> + <p> + The story which I am about to tell begins in what might be called the + middle period of Sturgis's career. He had reached the stage when his + handicap was a wobbly twelve; and, as you are no doubt aware, it is then + that a man really begins to golf in the true sense of the word. Mortimer's + fondness for the game until then had been merely tepid compared with what + it became now. He had played a little before, but now he really buckled to + and got down to it. It was at this point, too, that he began once more to + entertain thoughts of marriage. A profound statistician in this one + department, he had discovered that practically all the finest exponents of + the art are married men; and the thought that there might be something in + the holy state which improved a man's game, and that he was missing a good + thing, troubled him a great deal. Moreover, the paternal instinct had + awakened in him. As he justly pointed out, whether marriage improved your + game or not, it was to Old Tom Morris's marriage that the existence of + young Tommy Morris, winner of the British Open Championship four times in + succession, could be directly traced. In fact, at the age of forty-two, + Mortimer Sturgis was in just the frame of mind to take some nice girl + aside and ask her to become a step-mother to his eleven drivers, his + baffy, his twenty-eight putters, and the rest of the ninety-four clubs + which he had accumulated in the course of his golfing career. The sole + stipulation, of course, which he made when dreaming his daydreams was that + the future Mrs. Sturgis must be a golfer. I can still recall the horror in + his face when one girl, admirable in other respects, said that she had + never heard of Harry Vardon, and didn't he mean Dolly Vardon? She has + since proved an excellent wife and mother, but Mortimer Sturgis never + spoke to her again. + </p> + <p> + With the coming of January, it was Mortimer's practice to leave England + and go to the South of France, where there was sunshine and crisp dry + turf. He pursued his usual custom this year. With his suit-case and his + ninety-four clubs he went off to Saint Brule, staying as he always did at + the Hotel Superbe, where they knew him, and treated with an amiable + tolerance his habit of practising chip-shots in his bedroom. On the first + evening, after breaking a statuette of the Infant Samuel in Prayer, he + dressed and went down to dinner. And the first thing he saw was Her. + </p> + <p> + Mortimer Sturgis, as you know, had been engaged before, but Betty Weston + had never inspired the tumultuous rush of emotion which the mere sight of + this girl had set loose in him. He told me later that just to watch her + holing out her soup gave him a sort of feeling you get when your drive + collides with a rock in the middle of a tangle of rough and kicks back + into the middle of the fairway. If golf had come late in life to Mortimer + Sturgis, love came later still, and just as the golf, attacking him in + middle life, had been some golf, so was the love considerable love. + Mortimer finished his dinner in a trance, which is the best way to do it + at some hotels, and then scoured the place for someone who would introduce + him. He found such a person eventually and the meeting took place. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + She was a small and rather fragile-looking girl, with big blue eyes and a + cloud of golden hair. She had a sweet expression, and her left wrist was + in a sling. She looked up at Mortimer as if she had at last found + something that amounted to something. I am inclined to think it was a case + of love at first sight on both sides. + </p> + <p> + "Fine weather we're having," said Mortimer, who was a capital + conversationalist. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," said the girl. + </p> + <p> + "I like fine weather." + </p> + <p> + "So do I." + </p> + <p> + "There's something about fine weather!" + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + "It's—it's—well, fine weather's so much finer than weather + that isn't fine," said Mortimer. + </p> + <p> + He looked at the girl a little anxiously, fearing he might be taking her + out of her depth, but she seemed to have followed his train of thought + perfectly. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, isn't it?" she said. "It's so—so fine." + </p> + <p> + "That's just what I meant," said Mortimer. "So fine. You've just hit it." + </p> + <p> + He was charmed. The combination of beauty with intelligence is so rare. + </p> + <p> + "I see you've hurt your wrist," he went on, pointing to the sling. + </p> + <p> + "Yes. I strained it a little playing in the championship." + </p> + <p> + "The championship?" Mortimer was interested. "It's awfully rude of me," he + said, apologetically, "but I didn't catch your name just now." + </p> + <p> + "My name is Somerset." + </p> + <p> + Mortimer had been bending forward solicitously. He overbalanced and nearly + fell off his chair. The shock had been stunning. Even before he had met + and spoken to her, he had told himself that he loved this girl with the + stored-up love of a lifetime. And she was Mary Somerset! The hotel lobby + danced before Mortimer's eyes. + </p> + <p> + The name will, of course, be familiar to you. In the early rounds of the + Ladies' Open Golf Championship of that year nobody had paid much attention + to Mary Somerset. She had survived her first two matches, but her + opponents had been nonentities like herself. And then, in the third round, + she had met and defeated the champion. From that point on, her name was on + everybody's lips. She became favourite. And she justified the public + confidence by sailing into the final and winning easily. And here she was, + talking to him like an ordinary person, and, if he could read the message + in her eyes, not altogether indifferent to his charms, if you could call + them that. + </p> + <p> + "Golly!" said Mortimer, awed. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Their friendship ripened rapidly, as friendships do in the South of + France. In that favoured clime, you find the girl and Nature does the + rest. On the second morning of their acquaintance Mortimer invited her to + walk round the links with him and watch him play. He did it a little + diffidently, for his golf was not of the calibre that would be likely to + extort admiration from a champion. On the other hand, one should never let + slip the opportunity of acquiring wrinkles on the game, and he thought + that Miss Somerset, if she watched one or two of his shots, might tell him + just what he ought to do. And sure enough, the opening arrived on the + fourth hole, where Mortimer, after a drive which surprised even himself, + found his ball in a nasty cuppy lie. + </p> + <p> + He turned to the girl. + </p> + <p> + "What ought I to do here?" he asked. + </p> + <p> + Miss Somerset looked at the ball. She seemed to be weighing the matter in + her mind. + </p> + <p> + "Give it a good hard knock," she said. + </p> + <p> + Mortimer knew what she meant. She was advocating a full iron. The only + trouble was that, when he tried anything more ambitious than a half-swing, + except off the tee, he almost invariably topped. However, he could not + fail this wonderful girl, so he swung well back and took a chance. His + enterprise was rewarded. The ball flew out of the indentation in the turf + as cleanly as though John Henry Taylor had been behind it, and rolled, + looking neither to left nor to right, straight for the pin. A few moments + later Mortimer Sturgis had holed out one under bogey, and it was only the + fear that, having known him for so short a time, she might be startled and + refuse him that kept him from proposing then and there. This exhibition of + golfing generalship on her part had removed his last doubts. He knew that, + if he lived for ever, there could be no other girl in the world for him. + With her at his side, what might he not do? He might get his handicap down + to six—to three—to scratch—to plus something! Good + heavens, why, even the Amateur Championship was not outside the range of + possibility. Mortimer Sturgis shook his putter solemnly in the air, and + vowed a silent vow that he would win this pearl among women. + </p> + <p> + Now, when a man feels like that, it is impossible to restrain him long. + For a week Mortimer Sturgis's soul sizzled within him: then he could + contain himself no longer. One night, at one of the informal dances at the + hotel, he drew the girl out on to the moonlit terrace. + </p> + <p> + "Miss Somerset——" he began, stuttering with emotion like an + imperfectly-corked bottle of ginger-beer. "Miss Somerset—may I call + you Mary?" + </p> + <p> + The girl looked at him with eyes that shone softly in the dim light. + </p> + <p> + "Mary?" she repeated. "Why, of course, if you like——" + </p> + <p> + "If I like!" cried Mortimer. "Don't you know that it is my dearest wish? + Don't you know that I would rather be permitted to call you Mary than do + the first hole at Muirfield in two? Oh, Mary, how I have longed for this + moment! I love you! I love you! Ever since I met you I have known that you + were the one girl in this vast world whom I would die to win! Mary, will + you be mine? Shall we go round together? Will you fix up a match with me + on the links of life which shall end only when the Grim Reaper lays us + both a stymie?" + </p> + <p> + She drooped towards him. + </p> + <p> + "Mortimer!" she murmured. + </p> + <p> + He held out his arms, then drew back. His face had grown suddenly tense, + and there were lines of pain about his mouth. + </p> + <p> + "Wait!" he said, in a strained voice. "Mary, I love you dearly, and + because I love you so dearly I cannot let you trust your sweet life to me + blindly. I have a confession to make, I am not—I have not always + been"—he paused—"a good man," he said, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + She started indignantly. + </p> + <p> + "How can you say that? You are the best, the kindest, the bravest man I + have ever met! Who but a good man would have risked his life to save me + from drowning?" + </p> + <p> + "Drowning?" Mortimer's voice seemed perplexed. "You? What do you mean?" + </p> + <p> + "Have you forgotten the time when I fell in the sea last week, and you + jumped in with all your clothes on——" + </p> + <p> + "Of course, yes," said Mortimer. "I remember now. It was the day I did the + long seventh in five. I got off a good tee-shot straight down the fairway, + took a baffy for my second, and—— But that is not the point. + It is sweet and generous of you to think so highly of what was the merest + commonplace act of ordinary politeness, but I must repeat, that judged by + the standards of your snowy purity, I am not a good man. I do not come to + you clean and spotless as a young girl should expect her husband to come + to her. Once, playing in a foursome, my ball fell in some long grass. + Nobody was near me. We had no caddies, and the others were on the fairway. + God knows——" His voice shook. "God knows I struggled against + the temptation. But I fell. I kicked the ball on to a little bare mound, + from which it was an easy task with a nice half-mashie to reach the green + for a snappy seven. Mary, there have been times when, going round by + myself, I have allowed myself ten-foot putts on three holes in succession, + simply in order to be able to say I had done the course in under a + hundred. Ah! you shrink from me! You are disgusted!" + </p> + <p> + "I'm not disgusted! And I don't shrink! I only shivered because it is + rather cold." + </p> + <p> + "Then you can love me in spite of my past?" + </p> + <p> + "Mortimer!" + </p> + <p> + She fell into his arms. + </p> + <p> + "My dearest," he said presently, "what a happy life ours will be. That is, + if you do not find that you have made a mistake." + </p> + <p> + "A mistake!" she cried, scornfully. + </p> + <p> + "Well, my handicap is twelve, you know, and not so darned twelve at that. + There are days when I play my second from the fairway of the next hole but + one, days when I couldn't putt into a coal-hole with 'Welcome!' written + over it. And you are a Ladies' Open Champion. Still, if you think it's all + right——. Oh, Mary, you little know how I have dreamed of some + day marrying a really first-class golfer! Yes, that was my vision—of + walking up the aisle with some sweet plus two girl on my arm. You shivered + again. You are catching cold." + </p> + <p> + "It is a little cold," said the girl. She spoke in a small voice. + </p> + <p> + "Let me take you in, sweetheart," said Mortimer. "I'll just put you in a + comfortable chair with a nice cup of coffee, and then I think I really + must come out again and tramp about and think how perfectly splendid + everything is." + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + They were married a few weeks later, very quietly, in the little village + church of Saint Brule. The secretary of the local golf-club acted as best + man for Mortimer, and a girl from the hotel was the only bridesmaid. The + whole business was rather a disappointment to Mortimer, who had planned + out a somewhat florid ceremony at St. George's, Hanover Square, with the + Vicar of Tooting (a scratch player excellent at short approach shots) + officiating, and "The Voice That Breathed O'er St. Andrews" boomed from + the organ. He had even had the idea of copying the military wedding and + escorting his bride out of the church under an arch of crossed cleeks. But + she would have none of this pomp. She insisted on a quiet wedding, and for + the honeymoon trip preferred a tour through Italy. Mortimer, who had + wanted to go to Scotland to visit the birthplace of James Braid, yielded + amiably, for he loved her dearly. But he did not think much of Italy. In + Rome, the great monuments of the past left him cold. Of the Temple of + Vespasian, all he thought was that it would be a devil of a place to be + bunkered behind. The Colosseum aroused a faint spark of interest in him, + as he speculated whether Abe Mitchell would use a full brassey to carry + it. In Florence, the view over the Tuscan Hills from the Torre Rosa, + Fiesole, over which his bride waxed enthusiastic, seemed to him merely a + nasty bit of rough which would take a deal of getting out of. + </p> + <p> + And so, in the fullness of time, they came home to Mortimer's cosy little + house adjoining the links. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Mortimer was so busy polishing his ninety-four clubs on the evening of + their arrival that he failed to notice that his wife was preoccupied. A + less busy man would have perceived at a glance that she was distinctly + nervous. She started at sudden noises, and once, when he tried the newest + of his mashie-niblicks and broke one of the drawing-room windows, she + screamed sharply. In short her manner was strange, and, if Edgar Allen Poe + had put her into "The Fall Of the House of Usher", she would have fitted + it like the paper on the wall. She had the air of one waiting tensely for + the approach of some imminent doom. Mortimer, humming gaily to himself as + he sand-papered the blade of his twenty-second putter, observed none of + this. He was thinking of the morrow's play. + </p> + <p> + "Your wrist's quite well again now, darling, isn't it?" he said. + </p> + <p> + "Yes. Yes, quite well." + </p> + <p> + "Fine!" said Mortimer. "We'll breakfast early—say at half-past seven—and + then we'll be able to get in a couple of rounds before lunch. A couple + more in the afternoon will about see us through. One doesn't want to + over-golf oneself the first day." He swung the putter joyfully. "How had + we better play do you think? We might start with you giving me a half." + </p> + <p> + She did not speak. She was very pale. She clutched the arm of her chair + tightly till the knuckles showed white under the skin. + </p> + <p> + To anybody but Mortimer her nervousness would have been even more obvious + on the following morning, as they reached the first tee. Her eyes were + dull and heavy, and she started when a grasshopper chirruped. But Mortimer + was too occupied with thinking how jolly it was having the course to + themselves to notice anything. + </p> + <p> + He scooped some sand out of the box, and took a ball out of her bag. His + wedding present to her had been a brand-new golf-bag, six dozen balls, and + a full set of the most expensive clubs, all born in Scotland. + </p> + <p> + "Do you like a high tee?" he asked. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, no," she replied, coming with a start out of her thoughts. "Doctors + say it's indigestible." + </p> + <p> + Mortimer laughed merrily. + </p> + <p> + "Deuced good!" he chuckled. "Is that your own or did you read it in a + comic paper? There you are!" He placed the ball on a little hill of sand, + and got up. "Now let's see some of that championship form of yours!" + </p> + <p> + She burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + "My darling!" + </p> + <p> + Mortimer ran to her and put his arms round her. She tried weakly to push + him away. + </p> + <p> + "My angel! What is it?" + </p> + <p> + She sobbed brokenly. Then, with an effort, she spoke. + </p> + <p> + "Mortimer, I have deceived you!" + </p> + <p> + "Deceived me?" + </p> + <p> + "I have never played golf in my life! I don't even know how to hold the + caddie!" + </p> + <p> + Mortimer's heart stood still. This sounded like the gibberings of an + unbalanced mind, and no man likes his wife to begin gibbering immediately + after the honeymoon. + </p> + <p> + "My precious! You are not yourself!" + </p> + <p> + "I am! That's the whole trouble! I'm myself and not the girl you thought I + was!" + </p> + <p> + Mortimer stared at her, puzzled. He was thinking that it was a little + difficult and that, to work it out properly, he would need a pencil and a + bit of paper. + </p> + <p> + "My name is not Mary!" + </p> + <p> + "But you said it was." + </p> + <p> + "I didn't. You asked if you could call me Mary, and I said you might, + because I loved you too much to deny your smallest whim. I was going on to + say that it wasn't my name, but you interrupted me." + </p> + <p> + "Not Mary!" The horrid truth was coming home to Mortimer. "You were not + Mary Somerset?" + </p> + <p> + "Mary is my cousin. My name is Mabel." + </p> + <p> + "But you said you had sprained your wrist playing in the championship." + </p> + <p> + "So I had. The mallet slipped in my hand." + </p> + <p> + "The mallet!" Mortimer clutched at his forehead. "You didn't say 'the + mallet'?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, Mortimer! The mallet!" + </p> + <p> + A faint blush of shame mantled her cheek, and into her blue eyes there + came a look of pain, but she faced him bravely. + </p> + <p> + "I am the Ladies' Open Croquet Champion!" she whispered. + </p> + <p> + Mortimer Sturgis cried aloud, a cry that was like the shriek of some + wounded animal. + </p> + <p> + "Croquet!" He gulped, and stared at her with unseeing eyes. He was no + prude, but he had those decent prejudices of which no self-respecting man + can wholly rid himself, however broad-minded he may try to be. "Croquet!" + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence. The light breeze sang in the pines above them. + The grasshoppers chirrupped at their feet. + </p> + <p> + She began to speak again in a low, monotonous voice. + </p> + <p> + "I blame myself! I should have told you before, while there was yet time + for you to withdraw. I should have confessed this to you that night on the + terrace in the moonlight. But you swept me off my feet, and I was in your + arms before I realized what you would think of me. It was only then that I + understood what my supposed skill at golf meant to you, and then it was + too late. I loved you too much to let you go! I could not bear the thought + of you recoiling from me. Oh, I was mad—mad! I knew that I could not + keep up the deception for ever, that you must find me out in time. But I + had a wild hope that by then we should be so close to one another that you + might find it in your heart to forgive. But I was wrong. I see it now. + There are some things that no man can forgive. Some things," she repeated, + dully, "which no man can forgive." + </p> + <p> + She turned away. Mortimer awoke from his trance. + </p> + <p> + "Stop!" he cried. "Don't go!" + </p> + <p> + "I must go." + </p> + <p> + "I want to talk this over." + </p> + <p> + She shook her head sadly and started to walk slowly across the sunlit + grass. Mortimer watched her, his brain in a whirl of chaotic thoughts. She + disappeared through the trees. + </p> + <p> + Mortimer sat down on the tee-box, and buried his face in his hands. For a + time he could think of nothing but the cruel blow he had received. This + was the end of those rainbow visions of himself and her going through life + side by side, she lovingly criticizing his stance and his back-swing, he + learning wisdom from her. A croquet-player! He was married to a woman who + hit coloured balls through hoops. Mortimer Sturgis writhed in torment. A + strong man's agony. + </p> + <p> + The mood passed. How long it had lasted, he did not know. But suddenly, as + he sat there, he became once more aware of the glow of the sunshine and + the singing of the birds. It was as if a shadow had lifted. Hope and + optimism crept into his heart. + </p> + <p> + He loved her. He loved her still. She was part of him, and nothing that + she could do had power to alter that. She had deceived him, yes. But why + had she deceived him? Because she loved him so much that she could not + bear to lose him. Dash it all, it was a bit of a compliment. + </p> + <p> + And, after all, poor girl, was it her fault? Was it not rather the fault + of her upbringing? Probably she had been taught to play croquet when a + mere child, hardly able to distinguish right from wrong. No steps had been + taken to eradicate the virus from her system, and the thing had become + chronic. Could she be blamed? Was she not more to be pitied than censured? + </p> + <p> + Mortimer rose to his feet, his heart swelling with generous forgiveness. + The black horror had passed from him. The future seemed once more bright. + It was not too late. She was still young, many years younger than he + himself had been when he took up golf, and surely, if she put herself into + the hands of a good specialist and practised every day, she might still + hope to become a fair player. He reached the house and ran in, calling her + name. + </p> + <p> + No answer came. He sped from room to room, but all were empty. + </p> + <p> + She had gone. The house was there. The furniture was there. The canary + sang in its cage, the cook in the kitchen. The pictures still hung on the + walls. But she had gone. Everything was at home except his wife. + </p> + <p> + Finally, propped up against the cup he had once won in a handicap + competition, he saw a letter. With a sinking heart he tore open the + envelope. + </p> + <p> + It was a pathetic, a tragic letter, the letter of a woman endeavouring to + express all the anguish of a torn heart with one of those fountain-pens + which suspend the flow of ink about twice in every three words. The gist + of it was that she felt she had wronged him; that, though he might + forgive, he could never forget; and that she was going away, away out into + the world alone. + </p> + <p> + Mortimer sank into a chair, and stared blankly before him. She had + scratched the match. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + I am not a married man myself, so have had no experience of how it feels + to have one's wife whizz off silently into the unknown; but I should + imagine that it must be something like taking a full swing with a brassey + and missing the ball. Something, I take it, of the same sense of mingled + shock, chagrin, and the feeling that nobody loves one, which attacks a man + in such circumstances, must come to the bereaved husband. And one can + readily understand how terribly the incident must have shaken Mortimer + Sturgis. I was away at the time, but I am told by those who saw him that + his game went all to pieces. + </p> + <p> + He had never shown much indication of becoming anything in the nature of a + first-class golfer, but he had managed to acquire one or two decent shots. + His work with the light iron was not at all bad, and he was a fairly + steady putter. But now, under the shadow of this tragedy, he dropped right + back to the form of his earliest period. It was a pitiful sight to see + this gaunt, haggard man with the look of dumb anguish behind his + spectacles taking as many as three shots sometimes to get past the ladies' + tee. His slice, of which he had almost cured himself, returned with such + virulence that in the list of ordinary hazards he had now to include the + tee-box. And, when he was not slicing, he was pulling. I have heard that + he was known, when driving at the sixth, to get bunkered in his own + caddie, who had taken up his position directly behind him. As for the deep + sand-trap in front of the seventh green, he spent so much of his time in + it that there was some informal talk among the members of the committee of + charging him a small weekly rent. + </p> + <p> + A man of comfortable independent means, he lived during these days on next + to nothing. Golf-balls cost him a certain amount, but the bulk of his + income he spent in efforts to discover his wife's whereabouts. He + advertised in all the papers. He employed private detectives. He even, + much as it revolted his finer instincts, took to travelling about the + country, watching croquet matches. But she was never among the players. I + am not sure that he did not find a melancholy comfort in this, for it + seemed to show that, whatever his wife might be and whatever she might be + doing, she had not gone right under. + </p> + <p> + Summer passed. Autumn came and went. Winter arrived. The days grew bleak + and chill, and an early fall of snow, heavier than had been known at that + time of the year for a long while, put an end to golf. Mortimer spent his + days indoors, staring gloomily through the window at the white mantle that + covered the earth. + </p> + <p> + It was Christmas Eve. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The young man shifted uneasily on his seat. His face was long and sombre. + </p> + <p> + "All this is very depressing," he said. + </p> + <p> + "These soul tragedies," agreed the Oldest Member, "are never very cheery." + </p> + <p> + "Look here," said the young man, firmly, "tell me one thing frankly, as + man to man. Did Mortimer find her dead in the snow, covered except for her + face, on which still lingered that faint, sweet smile which he remembered + so well? Because, if he did, I'm going home." + </p> + <p> + "No, no," protested the Oldest Member. "Nothing of that kind." + </p> + <p> + "You're sure? You aren't going to spring it on me suddenly?" + </p> + <p> + "No, no!" + </p> + <p> + The young man breathed a relieved sigh. + </p> + <p> + "It was your saying that about the white mantle covering the earth that + made me suspicious." + </p> + <p> + The Sage resumed. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + It was Christmas Eve. All day the snow had been falling, and now it lay + thick and deep over the countryside. Mortimer Sturgis, his frugal dinner + concluded—what with losing his wife and not being able to get any + golf, he had little appetite these days—was sitting in his + drawing-room, moodily polishing the blade of his jigger. Soon wearying of + this once congenial task, he laid down the club and went to the front door + to see if there was any chance of a thaw. But no. It was freezing. The + snow, as he tested it with his shoe, crackled crisply. The sky above was + black and full of cold stars. It seemed to Mortimer that the sooner he + packed up and went to the South of France, the better. He was just about + to close the door, when suddenly he thought he heard his own name called. + </p> + <p> + "Mortimer!" + </p> + <p> + Had he been mistaken? The voice had sounded faint and far away. + </p> + <p> + "Mortimer!" + </p> + <p> + He thrilled from head to foot. This time there could be no mistake. It was + the voice he knew so well, his wife's voice, and it had come from + somewhere down near the garden-gate. It is difficult to judge distance + where sounds are concerned, but Mortimer estimated that the voice had + spoken about a short mashie-niblick and an easy putt from where he stood. + </p> + <p> + The next moment he was racing down the snow-covered path. And then his + heart stood still. What was that dark something on the ground just inside + the gate? He leaped towards it. He passed his hands over it. It was a + human body. Quivering, he struck a match. It went out. He struck another. + That went out, too. He struck a third, and it burnt with a steady flame; + and, stooping, he saw that it was his wife who lay there, cold and stiff. + Her eyes were closed, and on her face still lingered that faint, sweet + smile which he remembered so well. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The young man rose with a set face. He reached for his golf-bag. + </p> + <p> + "I call that a dirty trick," he said, "after you promised—" The Sage + waved him back to his seat. + </p> + <p> + "Have no fear! She had only fainted." + </p> + <p> + "You said she was cold." + </p> + <p> + "Wouldn't you be cold if you were lying in the snow?" + </p> + <p> + "And stiff." + </p> + <p> + "Mrs. Sturgis was stiff because the train-service was bad, it being the + holiday-season, and she had had to walk all the way from the junction, a + distance of eight miles. Sit down and allow me to proceed." + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Tenderly, reverently Mortimer Sturgis picked her up and began to bear her + into the house. Half-way there, his foot slipped on a piece of ice and he + fell heavily, barking his shin and shooting his lovely burden out on to + the snow. + </p> + <p> + The fall brought her to. She opened her eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Mortimer, darling!" she said. + </p> + <p> + Mortimer had just been going to say something else, but he checked + himself. + </p> + <p> + "Are you alive?" he asked. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," she replied. + </p> + <p> + "Thank God!" said Mortimer, scooping some of the snow out of the back of + his collar. + </p> + <p> + Together they went into the house, and into the drawing-room. Wife gazed + at husband, husband at wife. There was a silence. + </p> + <p> + "Rotten weather!" said Mortimer. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, isn't it!" + </p> + <p> + The spell was broken. They fell into each other's arms. And presently they + were sitting side by side on the sofa, holding hands, just as if that + awful parting had been but a dream. + </p> + <p> + It was Mortimer who made the first reference to it. + </p> + <p> + "I say, you know," he said, "you oughtn't to have nipped away like that!" + </p> + <p> + "I thought you hated me!" + </p> + <p> + "Hated <i>you</i>! I love you better than life itself! I would sooner have + smashed my pet driver than have had you leave me!" + </p> + <p> + She thrilled at the words. + </p> + <p> + "Darling!" + </p> + <p> + Mortimer fondled her hand. + </p> + <p> + "I was just coming back to tell you that I loved you still. I was going to + suggest that you took lessons from some good professional. And I found you + gone!" + </p> + <p> + "I wasn't worthy of you, Mortimer!" + </p> + <p> + "My angel!" He pressed his lips to her hair, and spoke solemnly. "All this + has taught me a lesson, dearest. I knew all along, and I know it more than + ever now, that it is you—you that I want. Just you! I don't care if + you don't play golf. I don't care——" He hesitated, then went + on manfully. "I don't care even if you play croquet, so long as you are + with me!" + </p> + <p> + For a moment her face showed rapture that made it almost angelic. She + uttered a low moan of ecstasy. She kissed him. Then she rose. + </p> + <p> + "Mortimer, look!" + </p> + <p> + "What at?" + </p> + <p> + "Me. Just look!" + </p> + <p> + The jigger which he had been polishing lay on a chair close by. She took + it up. From the bowl of golf-balls on the mantelpiece she selected a brand + new one. She placed it on the carpet. She addressed it. Then, with a merry + cry of "Fore!" she drove it hard and straight through the glass of the + china-cupboard. + </p> + <p> + "Good God!" cried Mortimer, astounded. It had been a bird of a shot. + </p> + <p> + She turned to him, her whole face alight with that beautiful smile. + </p> + <p> + "When I left you, Mortie," she said, "I had but one aim in life, somehow + to make myself worthy of you. I saw your advertisements in the papers, and + I longed to answer them, but I was not ready. All this long, weary while I + have been in the village of Auchtermuchtie, in Scotland, studying under + Tamms McMickle." + </p> + <p> + "Not the Tamms McMickle who finished fourth in the Open Championship of + 1911, and had the best ball in the foursome in 1912 with Jock McHaggis, + Andy McHeather, and Sandy McHoots!" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, Mortimer, the very same. Oh, it was difficult at first. I missed my + mallet, and long to steady the ball with my foot and use the toe of the + club. Wherever there was a direction post I aimed at it automatically. But + I conquered my weakness. I practised steadily. And now Mr. McMickle says + my handicap would be a good twenty-four on any links." She smiled + apologetically. "Of course, that doesn't sound much to you! You were a + twelve when I left you, and now I suppose you are down to eight or + something." + </p> + <p> + Mortimer shook his head. + </p> + <p> + "Alas, no!" he replied, gravely. "My game went right off for some reason + or other, and I'm twenty-four, too." + </p> + <p> + "For some reason or other!" She uttered a cry. "Oh, I know what the reason + was! How can I ever forgive myself! I have ruined your game!" + </p> + <p> + The brightness came back to Mortimer's eyes. He embraced her fondly. + </p> + <p> + "Do not reproach yourself, dearest," he murmured. "It is the best thing + that could have happened. From now on, we start level, two hearts that + beat as one, two drivers that drive as one. I could not wish it otherwise. + By George! It's just like that thing of Tennyson's." + </p> + <p> + He recited the lines softly: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>My bride, + My wife, my life. Oh, we will walk the links + Yoked in all exercise of noble end, + And so thro' those dark bunkers off the course + That no man knows. Indeed, I love thee: come, + Yield thyself up: our handicaps are one; + Accomplish thou my manhood and thyself; + Lay thy sweet hands in mine and trust to me.</i> +</pre> + <p> + She laid her hands in his. + </p> + <p> + "And now, Mortie, darling," she said, "I want to tell you all about how I + did the long twelfth at Auchtermuchtie in one under bogey." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 5 — <i>The Salvation of George Mackintosh</i> + </h2> + <p> + The young man came into the club-house. There was a frown on his usually + cheerful face, and he ordered a ginger-ale in the sort of voice which an + ancient Greek would have used when asking the executioner to bring on the + hemlock. + </p> + <p> + Sunk in the recesses of his favourite settee the Oldest Member had watched + him with silent sympathy. + </p> + <p> + "How did you get on?" he inquired. + </p> + <p> + "He beat me." + </p> + <p> + The Oldest Member nodded his venerable head. + </p> + <p> + "You have had a trying time, if I am not mistaken. I feared as much when I + saw you go out with Pobsley. How many a young man have I seen go out with + Herbert Pobsley exulting in his youth, and crawl back at eventide looking + like a toad under the harrow! He talked?" + </p> + <p> + "All the time, confound it! Put me right off my stroke." + </p> + <p> + The Oldest Member sighed. + </p> + <p> + "The talking golfer is undeniably the most pronounced pest of our complex + modern civilization," he said, "and the most difficult to deal with. It is + a melancholy thought that the noblest of games should have produced such a + scourge. I have frequently marked Herbert Pobsley in action. As the + crackling of thorns under a pot.... He is almost as bad as poor George + Mackintosh in his worst period. Did I ever tell you about George + Mackintosh?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't think so." + </p> + <p> + "His," said the Sage, "is the only case of golfing garrulity I have ever + known where a permanent cure was affected. If you would care to hear about + it——?" + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + George Mackintosh (said the Oldest Member), when I first knew him, was one + of the most admirable young fellows I have ever met. A handsome, + well-set-up man, with no vices except a tendency to use the mashie for + shots which should have been made with the light iron. And as for his + positive virtues, they were too numerous to mention. He never swayed his + body, moved his head, or pressed. He was always ready to utter a tactful + grunt when his opponent foozled. And when he himself achieved a glaring + fluke, his self-reproachful click of the tongue was music to his + adversary's bruised soul. But of all his virtues the one that most + endeared him to me and to all thinking men was the fact that, from the + start of a round to the finish, he never spoke a word except when + absolutely compelled to do so by the exigencies of the game. And it was + this man who subsequently, for a black period which lives in the memory of + all his contemporaries, was known as Gabby George and became a shade less + popular than the germ of Spanish Influenza. Truly, <i>corruptio optimi + pessima!</i> + </p> + <p> + One of the things that sadden a man as he grows older and reviews his life + is the reflection that his most devastating deeds were generally the ones + which he did with the best motives. The thought is disheartening. I can + honestly say that, when George Mackintosh came to me and told me his + troubles, my sole desire was to ameliorate his lot. That I might be + starting on the downward path a man whom I liked and respected never once + occurred to me. + </p> + <p> + One night after dinner when George Mackintosh came in, I could see at once + that there was something on his mind, but what this could be I was at a + loss to imagine, for I had been playing with him myself all the afternoon, + and he had done an eighty-one and a seventy-nine. And, as I had not left + the links till dusk was beginning to fall, it was practically impossible + that he could have gone out again and done badly. The idea of financial + trouble seemed equally out of the question. George had a good job with the + old-established legal firm of Peabody, Peabody, Peabody, Peabody, Cootes, + Toots, and Peabody. The third alternative, that he might be in love, I + rejected at once. In all the time I had known him I had never seen a sign + that George Mackintosh gave a thought to the opposite sex. + </p> + <p> + Yet this, bizarre as it seemed, was the true solution. Scarcely had he + seated himself and lit a cigar when he blurted out his confession. + </p> + <p> + "What would you do in a case like this?" he said. + </p> + <p> + "Like what?" + </p> + <p> + "Well——" He choked, and a rich blush permeated his surface. + "Well, it seems a silly thing to say and all that, but I'm in love with + Miss Tennant, you know!" + </p> + <p> + "You are in love with Celia Tennant?" + </p> + <p> + "Of course I am. I've got eyes, haven't I? Who else is there that any sane + man could possibly be in love with? That," he went on, moodily, "is the + whole trouble. There's a field of about twenty-nine, and I should think my + place in the betting is about thirty-three to one." + </p> + <p> + "I cannot agree with you there," I said. "You have every advantage, it + appears to me. You are young, amiable, good-looking, comfortably off, + scratch——" + </p> + <p> + "But I can't talk, confound it!" he burst out. "And how is a man to get + anywhere at this sort of game without talking?" + </p> + <p> + "You are talking perfectly fluently now." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, to you. But put me in front of Celia Tennant, and I simply make a + sort of gurgling noise like a sheep with the botts. It kills my chances + stone dead. You know these other men. I can give Claude Mainwaring a third + and beat him. I can give Eustace Brinkley a stroke a hole and simply + trample on his corpse. But when it comes to talking to a girl, I'm not in + their class." + </p> + <p> + "You must not be diffident." + </p> + <p> + "But I <i>am</i> diffident. What's the good of saying I mustn't be + diffident when I'm the man who wrote the words and music, when Diffidence + is my middle name and my telegraphic address? I can't help being + diffident." + </p> + <p> + "Surely you could overcome it?" + </p> + <p> + "But how? It was in the hope that you might be able to suggest something + that I came round tonight." + </p> + <p> + And this was where I did the fatal thing. It happened that, just before I + took up "Braid on the Push-Shot," I had been dipping into the current + number of a magazine, and one of the advertisements, I chanced to + remember, might have been framed with a special eye to George's + unfortunate case. It was that one, which I have no doubt you have seen, + which treats of "How to Become a Convincing Talker". I picked up this + magazine now and handed it to George. + </p> + <p> + He studied it for a few minutes in thoughtful silence. He looked at the + picture of the Man who had taken the course being fawned upon by lovely + women, while the man who had let this opportunity slip stood outside the + group gazing with a wistful envy. + </p> + <p> + "They never do that to me," said George. + </p> + <p> + "Do what, my boy?" + </p> + <p> + "Cluster round, clinging cooingly." + </p> + <p> + "I gather from the letterpress that they will if you write for the + booklet." + </p> + <p> + "You think there is really something in it?" + </p> + <p> + "I see no reason why eloquence should not be taught by mail. One seems to + be able to acquire every other desirable quality in that manner nowadays." + </p> + <p> + "I might try it. After all, it's not expensive. There's no doubt about + it," he murmured, returning to his perusal, "that fellow does look + popular. Of course, the evening dress may have something to do with it." + </p> + <p> + "Not at all. The other man, you will notice, is also wearing evening + dress, and yet he is merely among those on the outskirts. It is simply a + question of writing for the booklet." + </p> + <p> + "Sent post free." + </p> + <p> + "Sent, as you say, post free." + </p> + <p> + "I've a good mind to try it." + </p> + <p> + "I see no reason why you should not." + </p> + <p> + "I will, by Duncan!" He tore the page out of the magazine and put it in + his pocket. "I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give this thing a trial for + a week or two, and at the end of that time I'll go to the boss and see how + he reacts when I ask for a rise of salary. If he crawls, it'll show + there's something in this. If he flings me out, it will prove the thing's + no good." + </p> + <p> + We left it at that, and I am bound to say—owing, no doubt, to my not + having written for the booklet of the Memory Training Course advertised on + the adjoining page of the magazine—the matter slipped from my mind. + When, therefore, a few weeks later, I received a telegram from young + Mackintosh which ran: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>Worked like magic,</i> +</pre> + <p> + I confess I was intensely puzzled. It was only a quarter of an hour before + George himself arrived that I solved the problem of its meaning. + </p> + <p> + "So the boss crawled?" I said, as he came in. + </p> + <p> + He gave a light, confident laugh. I had not seen him, as I say, for some + time, and I was struck by the alteration in his appearance. In what + exactly this alteration consisted I could not at first have said; but + gradually it began to impress itself on me that his eye was brighter, his + jaw squarer, his carriage a trifle more upright than it had been. But it + was his eye that struck me most forcibly. The George Mackintosh I had + known had had a pleasing gaze, but, though frank and agreeable, it had + never been more dynamic than a fried egg. This new George had an eye that + was a combination of a gimlet and a searchlight. Coleridge's Ancient + Mariner, I imagine, must have been somewhat similarly equipped. The + Ancient Mariner stopped a wedding guest on his way to a wedding; George + Mackintosh gave me the impression that he could have stopped the Cornish + Riviera express on its way to Penzance. Self-confidence—aye, and + more than self-confidence—a sort of sinful, overbearing swank seemed + to exude from his very pores. + </p> + <p> + "Crawled?" he said. "Well, he didn't actually lick my boots, because I saw + him coming and side-stepped; but he did everything short of that. I hadn't + been talking an hour when——" + </p> + <p> + "An hour!" I gasped. "Did you talk for an hour?" + </p> + <p> + "Certainly. You wouldn't have had me be abrupt, would you? I went into his + private office and found him alone. I think at first he would have been + just as well pleased if I had retired. In fact, he said as much. But I + soon adjusted that outlook. I took a seat and a cigarette, and then I + started to sketch out for him the history of my connection with the firm. + He began to wilt before the end of the first ten minutes. At the quarter + of an hour mark he was looking at me like a lost dog that's just found its + owner. By the half-hour he was making little bleating noises and massaging + my coat-sleeve. And when, after perhaps an hour and a half, I came to my + peroration and suggested a rise, he choked back a sob, gave me double what + I had asked, and invited me to dine at his club next Tuesday. I'm a little + sorry now I cut the thing so short. A few minutes more, and I fancy he + would have given me his sock-suspenders and made over his life-insurance + in my favour." + </p> + <p> + "Well," I said, as soon as I could speak, for I was finding my young + friend a trifle overpowering, "this is most satisfactory." + </p> + <p> + "So-so," said George. "Not un-so-so. A man wants an addition to his income + when he is going to get married." + </p> + <p> + "Ah!" I said. "That, of course, will be the real test." + </p> + <p> + "What do you mean?" + </p> + <p> + "Why, when you propose to Celia Tennant. You remember you were saying when + we spoke of this before—" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, that!" said George, carelessly. "I've arranged all that." + </p> + <p> + "What!" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, yes. On my way up from the station. I looked in on Celia about an + hour ago, and it's all settled." + </p> + <p> + "Amazing!" + </p> + <p> + "Well, I don't know. I just put the thing to her, and she seemed to see + it." + </p> + <p> + "I congratulate you. So now, like Alexander, you have no more worlds to + conquer." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I don't know so much about that," said George. "The way it looks to + me is that I'm just starting. This eloquence is a thing that rather grows + on one. You didn't hear about my after-dinner speech at the anniversary + banquet of the firm, I suppose? My dear fellow, a riot! A positive + stampede. Had 'em laughing and then crying and then laughing again and + then crying once more till six of 'em had to be led out and the rest down + with hiccoughs. Napkins waving ... three tables broken ... waiters in + hysterics. I tell you, I played on them as on a stringed instrument...." + </p> + <p> + "Can you play on a stringed instrument?" + </p> + <p> + "As it happens, no. But as I would have played on a stringed instrument if + I could play on a stringed instrument. Wonderful sense of power it gives + you. I mean to go in pretty largely for that sort of thing in future." + </p> + <p> + "You must not let it interfere with your golf." + </p> + <p> + He gave a laugh which turned my blood cold. + </p> + <p> + "Golf!" he said. "After all, what is golf? Just pushing a small ball into + a hole. A child could do it. Indeed, children have done it with great + success. I see an infant of fourteen has just won some sort of + championship. Could that stripling convulse a roomful of banqueters? I + think not! To sway your fellow-men with a word, to hold them with a + gesture ... that is the real salt of life. I don't suppose I shall play + much more golf now. I'm making arrangements for a lecturing-tour, and I'm + booked up for fifteen lunches already." + </p> + <p> + Those were his words. A man who had once done the lake-hole in one. A man + whom the committee were grooming for the amateur championship. I am no + weakling, but I confess they sent a chill shiver down my spine. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + George Mackintosh did not, I am glad to say, carry out his mad project to + the letter. He did not altogether sever himself from golf. He was still to + be seen occasionally on the links. But now—and I know of nothing + more tragic that can befall a man—he found himself gradually + shunned, he who in the days of his sanity had been besieged with more + offers of games than he could manage to accept. Men simply would not stand + his incessant flow of talk. One by one they dropped off, until the only + person he could find to go round with him was old Major Moseby, whose + hearing completely petered out as long ago as the year '98. And, of + course, Celia Tennant would play with him occasionally; but it seemed to + me that even she, greatly as no doubt she loved him, was beginning to + crack under the strain. + </p> + <p> + So surely had I read the pallor of her face and the wild look of dumb + agony in her eyes that I was not surprised when, as I sat one morning in + my garden reading Ray on Taking Turf, my man announced her name. I had + been half expecting her to come to me for advice and consolation, for I + had known her ever since she was a child. It was I who had given her her + first driver and taught her infant lips to lisp "Fore!" It is not easy to + lisp the word "Fore!" but I had taught her to do it, and this constituted + a bond between us which had been strengthened rather than weakened by the + passage of time. + </p> + <p> + She sat down on the grass beside my chair, and looked up at my face in + silent pain. We had known each other so long that I know that it was not + my face that pained her, but rather some unspoken <i>malaise</i> of the + soul. I waited for her to speak, and suddenly she burst out impetuously as + though she could hold back her sorrow no longer. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I can't stand it! I can't stand it!" + </p> + <p> + "You mean...?" I said, though I knew only too well. + </p> + <p> + "This horrible obsession of poor George's," she cried passionately. "I + don't think he has stopped talking once since we have been engaged." + </p> + <p> + "He <i>is</i> chatty," I agreed. "Has he told you the story about the + Irishman?" + </p> + <p> + "Half a dozen times. And the one about the Swede oftener than that. But I + would not mind an occasional anecdote. Women have to learn to bear + anecdotes from the men they love. It is the curse of Eve. It is his + incessant easy flow of chatter on all topics that is undermining even my + devotion." + </p> + <p> + "But surely, when he proposed to you, he must have given you an inkling of + the truth. He only hinted at it when he spoke to me, but I gather that he + was eloquent." + </p> + <p> + "When he proposed," said Celia dreamily, "he was wonderful. He spoke for + twenty minutes without stopping. He said I was the essence of his every + hope, the tree on which the fruit of his life grew; his Present, his + Future, his Past ... oh, and all that sort of thing. If he would only + confine his conversation now to remarks of a similar nature, I could + listen to him all day long. But he doesn't. He talks politics and + statistics and philosophy and ... oh, and everything. He makes my head + ache." + </p> + <p> + "And your heart also, I fear," I said gravely. + </p> + <p> + "I love him!" she replied simply. "In spite of everything, I love him + dearly. But what to do? What to do? I have an awful fear that when we are + getting married instead of answering 'I will,' he will go into the pulpit + and deliver an address on Marriage Ceremonies of All Ages. The world to + him is a vast lecture-platform. He looks on life as one long after-dinner, + with himself as the principal speaker of the evening. It is breaking my + heart. I see him shunned by his former friends. Shunned! They run a mile + when they see him coming. The mere sound of his voice outside the + club-house is enough to send brave men diving for safety beneath the + sofas. Can you wonder that I am in despair? What have I to live for?" + </p> + <p> + "There is always golf." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, there is always golf," she whispered bravely. + </p> + <p> + "Come and have a round this afternoon." + </p> + <p> + "I had promised to go for a walk ..." She shuddered, then pulled herself + together. "... for a walk with George." + </p> + <p> + I hesitated for a moment. + </p> + <p> + "Bring him along," I said, and patted her hand. "It may be that together + we shall find an opportunity of reasoning with him." + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + "You can't reason with George. He never stops talking long enough to give + you time." + </p> + <p> + "Nevertheless, there is no harm in trying. I have an idea that this malady + of his is not permanent and incurable. The very violence with which the + germ of loquacity has attacked him gives me hope. You must remember that + before this seizure he was rather a noticeably silent man. Sometimes I + think that it is just Nature's way of restoring the average, and that soon + the fever may burn itself out. Or it may be that a sudden shock ... At any + rate, have courage." + </p> + <p> + "I will try to be brave." + </p> + <p> + "Capital! At half-past two on the first tee, then." + </p> + <p> + "You will have to give me a stroke on the third, ninth, twelfth, + fifteenth, sixteenth and eighteenth," she said, with a quaver in her + voice. "My golf has fallen off rather lately." + </p> + <p> + I patted her hand again. + </p> + <p> + "I understand," I said gently. "I understand." + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The steady drone of a baritone voice as I alighted from my car and + approached the first tee told me that George had not forgotten the tryst. + He was sitting on the stone seat under the chestnut-tree, speaking a few + well-chosen words on the Labour Movement. + </p> + <p> + "To what conclusion, then, do we come?" he was saying. "We come to the + foregone and inevitable conclusion that...." + </p> + <p> + "Good afternoon, George," I said. + </p> + <p> + He nodded briefly, but without verbal salutation. He seemed to regard my + remark as he would have regarded the unmannerly heckling of some one at + the back of the hall. He proceeded evenly with his speech, and was still + talking when Celia addressed her ball and drove off. Her drive, coinciding + with a sharp rhetorical question from George, wavered in mid-air, and the + ball trickled off into the rough half-way down the hill. I can see the + poor girl's tortured face even now. But she breathed no word of reproach. + Such is the miracle of women's love. + </p> + <p> + "Where you went wrong there," said George, breaking off his remarks on + Labour, "was that you have not studied the dynamics of golf sufficiently. + You did not pivot properly. You allowed your left heel to point down the + course when you were at the top of your swing. This makes for instability + and loss of distance. The fundamental law of the dynamics of golf is that + the left foot shall be solidly on the ground at the moment of impact. If + you allow your heel to point down the course, it is almost impossible to + bring it back in time to make the foot a solid fulcrum." + </p> + <p> + I drove, and managed to clear the rough and reach the fairway. But it was + not one of my best drives. George Mackintosh, I confess, had unnerved me. + The feeling he gave me resembled the self-conscious panic which I used to + experience in my childhood when informed that there was One Awful Eye that + watched my every movement and saw my every act. It was only the fact that + poor Celia appeared even more affected by his espionage that enabled me to + win the first hole in seven. + </p> + <p> + On the way to the second tee George discoursed on the beauties of Nature, + pointing out at considerable length how exquisitely the silver glitter of + the lake harmonized with the vivid emerald turf near the hole and the + duller green of the rough beyond it. As Celia teed up her ball, he + directed her attention to the golden glory of the sand-pit to the left of + the flag. It was not the spirit in which to approach the lake-hole, and I + was not surprised when the unfortunate girl's ball fell with a sickening + plop half-way across the water. + </p> + <p> + "Where you went wrong there," said George, "was that you made the stroke a + sudden heave instead of a smooth, snappy flick of the wrists. Pressing is + always bad, but with the mashie——" + </p> + <p> + "I think I will give you this hole," said Celia to me, for my shot had + cleared the water and was lying on the edge of the green. "I wish I hadn't + used a new ball." + </p> + <p> + "The price of golf-balls," said George, as we started to round the lake, + "is a matter to which economists should give some attention. I am credibly + informed that rubber at the present time is exceptionally cheap. Yet we + see no decrease in the price of golf-balls, which, as I need scarcely + inform you, are rubber-cored. Why should this be so? You will say that the + wages of skilled labour have gone up. True. But——" + </p> + <p> + "One moment, George, while I drive," I said. For we had now arrived at the + third tee. + </p> + <p> + "A curious thing, concentration," said George, "and why certain phenomena + should prevent us from focusing our attention—— This brings me + to the vexed question of sleep. Why is it that we are able to sleep + through some vast convulsion of Nature when a dripping tap is enough to + keep us awake? I am told that there were people who slumbered peacefully + through the San Francisco earthquake, merely stirring drowsily from time + to time to tell an imaginary person to leave it on the mat. Yet these same + people——" + </p> + <p> + Celia's drive bounded into the deep ravine which yawns some fifty yards + from the tee. A low moan escaped her. + </p> + <p> + "Where you went wrong there——" said George. + </p> + <p> + "I know," said Celia. "I lifted my head." + </p> + <p> + I had never heard her speak so abruptly before. Her manner, in a girl less + noticeably pretty, might almost have been called snappish. George, + however, did not appear to have noticed anything amiss. He filled his pipe + and followed her into the ravine. + </p> + <p> + "Remarkable," he said, "how fundamental a principle of golf is this + keeping the head still. You will hear professionals tell their pupils to + keep their eye on the ball. Keeping the eye on the ball is only a + secondary matter. What they really mean is that the head should be kept + rigid, as otherwise it is impossible to——" + </p> + <p> + His voice died away. I had sliced my drive into the woods on the right, + and after playing another had gone off to try to find my ball, leaving + Celia and George in the ravine behind me. My last glimpse of them showed + me that her ball had fallen into a stone-studded cavity in the side of the + hill, and she was drawing her niblick from her bag as I passed out of + sight. George's voice, blurred by distance to a monotonous murmur, + followed me until I was out of earshot. + </p> + <p> + I was just about to give up the hunt for my ball in despair, when I heard + Celia's voice calling to me from the edge of the undergrowth. There was a + sharp note in it which startled me. + </p> + <p> + I came out, trailing a portion of some unknown shrub which had twined + itself about my ankle. + </p> + <p> + "Yes?" I said, picking twigs out of my hair. + </p> + <p> + "I want your advice," said Celia. + </p> + <p> + "Certainly. What is the trouble? By the way," I said, looking round, + "where is your <i>fiance</i>?" + </p> + <p> + "I have no <i>fiance</i>," she said, in a dull, hard voice. + </p> + <p> + "You have broken off the engagement?" + </p> + <p> + "Not exactly. And yet—well, I suppose it amounts to that." + </p> + <p> + "I don't quite understand." + </p> + <p> + "Well, the fact is," said Celia, in a burst of girlish frankness, "I + rather think I've killed George." + </p> + <p> + "Killed him, eh?" + </p> + <p> + It was a solution that had not occurred to me, but now that it was + presented for my inspection I could see its merits. In these days of + national effort, when we are all working together to try to make our + beloved land fit for heroes to live in, it was astonishing that nobody + before had thought of a simple, obvious thing like killing George + Mackintosh. George Mackintosh was undoubtedly better dead, but it had + taken a woman's intuition to see it. + </p> + <p> + "I killed him with my niblick," said Celia. + </p> + <p> + I nodded. If the thing was to be done at all, it was unquestionably a + niblick shot. + </p> + <p> + "I had just made my eleventh attempt to get out of that ravine," the girl + went on, "with George talking all the time about the recent excavations in + Egypt, when suddenly—you know what it is when something seems to + snap——" + </p> + <p> + "I had the experience with my shoe-lace only this morning." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, it was like that. Sharp—sudden—happening all in a + moment. I suppose I must have said something, for George stopped talking + about Egypt and said that he was reminded by a remark of the last + speaker's of a certain Irishman——-" + </p> + <p> + I pressed her hand. + </p> + <p> + "Don't go on if it hurts you," I said, gently. + </p> + <p> + "Well, there is very little more to tell. He bent his head to light his + pipe, and well—the temptation was too much for me. That's all." + </p> + <p> + "You were quite right." + </p> + <p> + "You really think so?" + </p> + <p> + "I certainly do. A rather similar action, under far less provocation, once + made Jael the wife of Heber the most popular woman in Israel." + </p> + <p> + "I wish I could think so too," she murmured. "At the moment, you know, I + was conscious of nothing but an awful elation. But—but—oh, he + was such a darling before he got this dreadful affliction. I can't help + thinking of G-George as he used to be." + </p> + <p> + She burst into a torrent of sobs. + </p> + <p> + "Would you care for me to view the remains?" I said. + </p> + <p> + "Perhaps it would be as well." + </p> + <p> + She led me silently into the ravine. George Mackintosh was lying on his + back where he had fallen. + </p> + <p> + "There!" said Celia. + </p> + <p> + And, as she spoke, George Mackintosh gave a kind of snorting groan and sat + up. Celia uttered a sharp shriek and sank on her knees before him. George + blinked once or twice and looked about him dazedly. + </p> + <p> + "Save the women and children!" he cried. "I can swim." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, George!" said Celia. + </p> + <p> + "Feeling a little better?" I asked. + </p> + <p> + "A little. How many people were hurt?" + </p> + <p> + "Hurt?" + </p> + <p> + "When the express ran into us." He cast another glance around him. "Why, + how did I get here?" + </p> + <p> + "You were here all the time," I said. + </p> + <p> + "Do you mean after the roof fell in or before?" + </p> + <p> + Celia was crying quietly down the back of his neck. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, George!" she said, again. + </p> + <p> + He groped out feebly for her hand and patted it. + </p> + <p> + "Brave little woman!" he said. "Brave little woman! She stuck by me all + through. Tell me—I am strong enough to bear it—what caused the + explosion?" + </p> + <p> + It seemed to me a case where much unpleasant explanation might be avoided + by the exercise of a little tact. + </p> + <p> + "Well, some say one thing and some another," I said. "Whether it was a + spark from a cigarette——" + </p> + <p> + Celia interrupted me. The woman in her made her revolt against this + well-intentioned subterfuge. + </p> + <p> + "I hit you, George!" + </p> + <p> + "Hit me?" he repeated, curiously. "What with? The Eiffel Tower?" + </p> + <p> + "With my niblick." + </p> + <p> + "You hit me with your niblick? But why?" + </p> + <p> + She hesitated. Then she faced him bravely. + </p> + <p> + "Because you wouldn't stop talking." + </p> + <p> + He gaped. + </p> + <p> + "Me!" he said. "<i>I</i> wouldn't stop talking! But I hardly talk at all. + I'm noted for it." + </p> + <p> + Celia's eyes met mine in agonized inquiry. But I saw what had happened. + The blow, the sudden shock, had operated on George's brain-cells in such a + way as to effect a complete cure. I have not the technical knowledge to be + able to explain it, but the facts were plain. + </p> + <p> + "Lately, my dear fellow," I assured him, "you have dropped into the habit + of talking rather a good deal. Ever since we started out this afternoon + you have kept up an incessant flow of conversation!" + </p> + <p> + "Me! On the links! It isn't possible." + </p> + <p> + "It is only too true, I fear. And that is why this brave girl hit you with + her niblick. You started to tell her a funny story just as she was making + her eleventh shot to get her ball out of this ravine, and she took what + she considered the necessary steps." + </p> + <p> + "Can you ever forgive me, George?" cried Celia. + </p> + <p> + George Mackintosh stared at me. Then a crimson blush mantled his face. + </p> + <p> + "So I did! It's all beginning to come back to me. Oh, heavens!" + </p> + <p> + "<i>Can</i> you forgive me, George?" cried Celia again. + </p> + <p> + He took her hand in his. + </p> + <p> + "Forgive you?" he muttered. "Can <i>you</i> forgive <i>me?</i> Me—a + tee-talker, a green-gabbler, a prattler on the links, the lowest form of + life known to science! I am unclean, unclean!" + </p> + <p> + "It's only a little mud, dearest," said Celia, looking at the sleeve of + his coat. "It will brush off when it's dry." + </p> + <p> + "How can you link your lot with a man who talks when people are making + their shots?" + </p> + <p> + "You will never do it again." + </p> + <p> + "But I have done it. And you stuck to me all through! Oh, Celia!" + </p> + <p> + "I loved you, George!" + </p> + <p> + The man seemed to swell with a sudden emotion. His eye lit up, and he + thrust one hand into the breast of his coat while he raised the other in a + sweeping gesture. For an instant he appeared on the verge of a flood of + eloquence. And then, as if he had been made sharply aware of what it was + that he intended to do, he suddenly sagged. The gleam died out of his + eyes. He lowered his hand. + </p> + <p> + "Well, I must say that was rather decent of you," he said. + </p> + <p> + A lame speech, but one that brought an infinite joy to both his hearers. + For it showed that George Mackintosh was cured beyond possibility of + relapse. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I must say you are rather a corker," he added. + </p> + <p> + "George!" cried Celia. + </p> + <p> + I said nothing, but I clasped his hand; and then, taking my clubs, I + retired. When I looked round she was still in his arms. I left them there, + alone together in the great silence. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + And so (concluded the Oldest Member) you see that a cure is possible, + though it needs a woman's gentle hand to bring it about. And how few women + are capable of doing what Celia Tennant did. Apart from the difficulty of + summoning up the necessary resolution, an act like hers requires a + straight eye and a pair of strong and supple wrists. It seems to me that + for the ordinary talking golfer there is no hope. And the race seems to be + getting more numerous every day. Yet the finest golfers are always the + least loquacious. It is related of the illustrious Sandy McHoots that + when, on the occasion of his winning the British Open Championship, he was + interviewed by reporters from the leading daily papers as to his views on + Tariff Reform, Bimetallism, the Trial by Jury System, and the Modern Craze + for Dancing, all they could extract from him was the single word "Mphm!" + Having uttered which, he shouldered his bag and went home to tea. A great + man. I wish there were more like him. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 6 — <i>Ordeal By Golf</i> + </h2> + <p> + A pleasant breeze played among the trees on the terrace outside the Marvis + Bay Golf and Country Club. It ruffled the leaves and cooled the forehead + of the Oldest Member, who, as was his custom of a Saturday afternoon, sat + in the shade on a rocking-chair, observing the younger generation as it + hooked and sliced in the valley below. The eye of the Oldest Member was + thoughtful and reflective. When it looked into yours you saw in it that + perfect peace, that peace beyond understanding, which comes at its maximum + only to the man who has given up golf. + </p> + <p> + The Oldest Member has not played golf since the rubber-cored ball + superseded the old dignified gutty. But as a spectator and philosopher he + still finds pleasure in the pastime. He is watching it now with keen + interest. His gaze, passing from the lemonade which he is sucking through + a straw, rests upon the Saturday foursome which is struggling raggedly up + the hill to the ninth green. Like all Saturday foursomes, it is in + difficulties. One of the patients is zigzagging about the fairway like a + liner pursued by submarines. Two others seem to be digging for buried + treasure, unless—it is too far off to be certain—they are + killing snakes. The remaining cripple, who has just foozled a mashie-shot, + is blaming his caddie. His voice, as he upbraids the innocent child for + breathing during his up-swing, comes clearly up the hill. + </p> + <p> + The Oldest Member sighs. His lemonade gives a sympathetic gurgle. He puts + it down on the table. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + How few men, says the Oldest Member, possess the proper golfing + temperament! How few indeed, judging by the sights I see here on Saturday + afternoons, possess any qualification at all for golf except a pair of + baggy knickerbockers and enough money to enable them to pay for the drinks + at the end of the round. The ideal golfer never loses his temper. When I + played, I never lost my temper. Sometimes, it is true, I may, after + missing a shot, have broken my club across my knees; but I did it in a + calm and judicial spirit, because the club was obviously no good and I was + going to get another one anyway. To lose one's temper at golf is foolish. + It gets you nothing, not even relief. Imitate the spirit of Marcus + Aurelius. "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. For there can be no doubt that the man was a golfer, and a bad + golfer at that. Nobody who had not had a short putt stop on the edge of + the hole could possibly have written the words: "That which makes the man + no worse than he was makes life no worse. It has no power to harm, without + or within." Yes, Marcus Aurelius undoubtedly played golf, and all the + evidence seems to indicate that he rarely went round in under a hundred + and twenty. The niblick was his club. + </p> + <p> + Speaking of Marcus Aurelius and the golfing temperament recalls to my mind + the case of young Mitchell Holmes. Mitchell, when I knew him first, was a + promising young man with a future before him in the Paterson Dyeing and + Refining Company, of which my old friend, Alexander Paterson, was the + president. He had many engaging qualities—among them an unquestioned + ability to imitate a bulldog quarrelling with a Pekingese in a way which + had to be heard to be believed. It was a gift which made him much in + demand at social gatherings in the neighbourhood, marking him off from + other young men who could only almost play the mandolin or recite bits of + Gunga Din; and no doubt it was this talent of his which first sowed the + seeds of love in the heart of Millicent Boyd. Women are essentially + hero-worshippers, and when a warm-hearted girl like Millicent has heard a + personable young man imitating a bulldog and a Pekingese to the applause + of a crowded drawing-room, and has been able to detect the exact point at + which the Pekingese leaves off and the bulldog begins, she can never feel + quite the same to other men. In short, Mitchell and Millicent were + engaged, and were only waiting to be married till the former could bite + the Dyeing and Refining Company's ear for a bit of extra salary. + </p> + <p> + Mitchell Holmes had only one fault. He lost his temper when playing golf. + He seldom played a round without becoming piqued, peeved, or—in many + cases—chagrined. The caddies on our links, it was said, could always + worst other small boys in verbal argument by calling them some of the + things they had heard Mitchell call his ball on discovering it in a cuppy + lie. He had a great gift of language, and he used it unsparingly. I will + admit that there was some excuse for the man. He had the makings of a + brilliant golfer, but a combination of bad luck and inconsistent play + invariably robbed him of the fruits of his skill. He was the sort of + player who does the first two holes in one under bogey and then takes an + eleven at the third. The least thing upset him on the links. He missed + short putts because of the uproar of the butterflies in the adjoining + meadows. + </p> + <p> + It seemed hardly likely that this one kink in an otherwise admirable + character would ever seriously affect his working or professional life, + but it did. One evening, as I was sitting in my garden, Alexander Paterson + was announced. A glance at his face told me that he had come to ask my + advice. Rightly or wrongly, he regarded me as one capable of giving + advice. It was I who had changed the whole current of his life by + counselling him to leave the wood in his bag and take a driving-iron off + the tee; and in one or two other matters, like the choice of a putter (so + much more important than the choice of a wife), I had been of assistance + to him. + </p> + <p> + Alexander sat down and fanned himself with his hat, for the evening was + warm. Perplexity was written upon his fine face. + </p> + <p> + "I don't know what to do," he said. + </p> + <p> + "Keep the head still—slow back—don't press," I said, gravely. + There is no better rule for a happy and successful life. + </p> + <p> + "It's nothing to do with golf this time," he said. "It's about the + treasurership of my company. Old Smithers retires next week, and I've got + to find a man to fill his place." + </p> + <p> + "That should be easy. You have simply to select the most deserving from + among your other employees." + </p> + <p> + "But which <i>is</i> the most deserving? That's the point. There are two + men who are capable of holding the job quite adequately. But then I + realize how little I know of their real characters. It is the + treasurership, you understand, which has to be filled. Now, a man who was + quite good at another job might easily get wrong ideas into his head when + he became a treasurer. He would have the handling of large sums of money. + In other words, a man who in ordinary circumstances had never been + conscious of any desire to visit the more distant portions of South + America might feel the urge, so to speak, shortly after he became a + treasurer. That is my difficulty. Of course, one always takes a sporting + chance with any treasurer; but how am I to find out which of these two men + would give me the more reasonable opportunity of keeping some of my + money?" + </p> + <p> + I did not hesitate a moment. I held strong views on the subject of + character-testing. + </p> + <p> + "The only way," I said to Alexander, "of really finding out a man's true + character is to play golf with him. In no other walk of life does the + cloven hoof so quickly display itself. I employed a lawyer for years, + until one day I saw him kick his ball out of a heel-mark. I removed my + business from his charge next morning. He has not yet run off with any + trust-funds, but there is a nasty gleam in his eye, and I am convinced + that it is only a question of time. Golf, my dear fellow, is the + infallible test. The man who can go into a patch of rough alone, with the + knowledge that only God is watching him, and play his ball where it lies, + is the man who will serve you faithfully and well. The man who can smile + bravely when his putt is diverted by one of those beastly wormcasts is + pure gold right through. But the man who is hasty, unbalanced, and violent + on the links will display the same qualities in the wider field of + everyday life. You don't want an unbalanced treasurer do you?" + </p> + <p> + "Not if his books are likely to catch the complaint." + </p> + <p> + "They are sure to. Statisticians estimate that the average of crime among + good golfers is lower than in any class of the community except possibly + bishops. Since Willie Park won the first championship at Prestwick in the + year 1860 there has, I believe, been no instance of an Open Champion + spending a day in prison. Whereas the bad golfers—and by bad I do + not mean incompetent, but black-souled—the men who fail to count a + stroke when they miss the globe; the men who never replace a divot; the + men who talk while their opponent is driving; and the men who let their + angry passions rise—these are in and out of Wormwood Scrubbs all the + time. They find it hardly worth while to get their hair cut in their brief + intervals of liberty." + </p> + <p> + Alexander was visibly impressed. + </p> + <p> + "That sounds sensible, by George!" he said. + </p> + <p> + "It is sensible." + </p> + <p> + "I'll do it! Honestly, I can't see any other way of deciding between + Holmes and Dixon." + </p> + <p> + I started. + </p> + <p> + "Holmes? Not Mitchell Holmes?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes. Of course you must know him? He lives here, I believe." + </p> + <p> + "And by Dixon do you mean Rupert Dixon?" + </p> + <p> + "That's the man. Another neighbour of yours." + </p> + <p> + I confess that my heart sank. It was as if my ball had fallen into the pit + which my niblick had digged. I wished heartily that I had thought of + waiting to ascertain the names of the two rivals before offering my + scheme. I was extremely fond of Mitchell Holmes and of the girl to whom he + was engaged to be married. Indeed, it was I who had sketched out a few + rough notes for the lad to use when proposing; and results had shown that + he had put my stuff across well. And I had listened many a time with a + sympathetic ear to his hopes in the matter of securing a rise of salary + which would enable him to get married. Somehow, when Alexander was + talking, it had not occurred to me that young Holmes might be in the + running for so important an office as the treasurership. I had ruined the + boy's chances. Ordeal by golf was the one test which he could not possibly + undergo with success. Only a miracle could keep him from losing his + temper, and I had expressly warned Alexander against such a man. + </p> + <p> + When I thought of his rival my heart sank still more. Rupert Dixon was + rather an unpleasant young man, but the worst of his enemies could not + accuse him of not possessing the golfing temperament. From the drive off + the tee to the holing of the final putt he was uniformly suave. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + When Alexander had gone, I sat in thought for some time. I was faced with + a problem. Strictly speaking, no doubt, I had no right to take sides; and, + though secrecy had not been enjoined upon me in so many words, I was very + well aware that Alexander was under the impression that I would keep the + thing under my hat and not reveal to either party the test that awaited + him. Each candidate was, of course, to remain ignorant that he was taking + part in anything but a friendly game. + </p> + <p> + But when I thought of the young couple whose future depended on this + ordeal, I hesitated no longer. I put on my hat and went round to Miss + Boyd's house, where I knew that Mitchell was to be found at this hour. + </p> + <p> + The young couple were out in the porch, looking at the moon. They greeted + me heartily, but their heartiness had rather a tinny sound, and I could + see that on the whole they regarded me as one of those things which should + not happen. But when I told my story their attitude changed. They began to + look on me in the pleasanter light of a guardian, philosopher, and friend. + </p> + <p> + "Wherever did Mr. Paterson get such a silly idea?" said Miss Boyd, + indignantly. I had—from the best motives—concealed the source + of the scheme. "It's ridiculous!" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I don't know," said Mitchell. "The old boy's crazy about golf. It's + just the sort of scheme he would cook up. Well, it dishes <i>me</i>!" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, come!" I said. + </p> + <p> + "It's no good saying 'Oh, come!' You know perfectly well that I'm a frank, + outspoken golfer. When my ball goes off nor'-nor'-east when I want it to + go due west I can't help expressing an opinion about it. It is a curious + phenomenon which calls for comment, and I give it. Similarly, when I top + my drive, I have to go on record as saying that I did not do it + intentionally. And it's just these trifles, as far as I can make out, that + are going to decide the thing." + </p> + <p> + "Couldn't you learn to control yourself on the links, Mitchell, darling?" + asked Millicent. "After all, golf is only a game!" + </p> + <p> + Mitchell's eyes met mine, and I have no doubt that mine showed just the + same look of horror which I saw in his. Women say these things without + thinking. It does not mean that there is any kink in their character. They + simply don't realize what they are saying. + </p> + <p> + "Hush!" said Mitchell, huskily, patting her hand and overcoming his + emotion with a strong effort. "Hush, dearest!" + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Two or three days later I met Millicent coming from the post-office. There + was a new light of happiness in her eyes, and her face was glowing. + </p> + <p> + "Such a splendid thing has happened," she said. "After Mitchell left that + night I happened to be glancing through a magazine, and I came across a + wonderful advertisement. It began by saying that all the great men in + history owed their success to being able to control themselves, and that + Napoleon wouldn't have amounted to anything if he had not curbed his fiery + nature, and then it said that we can all be like Napoleon if we fill in + the accompanying blank order-form for Professor Orlando Rollitt's + wonderful book, 'Are You Your Own Master?' absolutely free for five days + and then seven shillings, but you must write at once because the demand is + enormous and pretty soon it may be too late. I wrote at once, and luckily + I was in time, because Professor Rollitt did have a copy left, and it's + just arrived. I've been looking through it, and it seems splendid." + </p> + <p> + She held out a small volume. I glanced at it. There was a frontispiece + showing a signed photograph of Professor Orlando Rollitt controlling + himself in spite of having long white whiskers, and then some reading + matter, printed between wide margins. One look at the book told me the + professor's methods. To be brief, he had simply swiped Marcus Aurelius's + best stuff, the copyright having expired some two thousand years ago, and + was retailing it as his own. I did not mention this to Millicent. It was + no affair of mine. Presumably, however obscure the necessity, Professor + Rollitt had to live. + </p> + <p> + "I'm going to start Mitchell on it today. Don't you think this is good? + 'Thou seest how few be the things which if a man has at his command his + life flows gently on and is divine.' I think it will be wonderful if + Mitchell's life flows gently on and is divine for seven shillings, don't + you?" + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + At the club-house that evening I encountered Rupert Dixon. He was emerging + from a shower-bath, and looked as pleased with himself as usual. + </p> + <p> + "Just been going round with old Paterson," he said. "He was asking after + you. He's gone back to town in his car." + </p> + <p> + I was thrilled. So the test had begun! + </p> + <p> + "How did you come out?" I asked. + </p> + <p> + Rupert Dixon smirked. A smirking man, wrapped in a bath towel, with a wisp + of wet hair over one eye, is a repellent sight. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, pretty well. I won by six and five. In spite of having poisonous + luck." + </p> + <p> + I felt a gleam of hope at these last words. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, you had bad luck?" + </p> + <p> + "The worst. I over-shot the green at the third with the best brassey-shot + I've ever made in my life—and that's saying a lot—and lost my + ball in the rough beyond it." + </p> + <p> + "And I suppose you let yourself go, eh?" + </p> + <p> + "Let myself go?" + </p> + <p> + "I take it that you made some sort of demonstration?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, no. Losing your temper doesn't get you anywhere at golf. It only + spoils your next shot." + </p> + <p> + I went away heavy-hearted. Dixon had plainly come through the ordeal as + well as any man could have done. I expected to hear every day that the + vacant treasurership had been filled, and that Mitchell had not even been + called upon to play his test round. I suppose, however, that Alexander + Paterson felt that it would be unfair to the other competitor not to give + him his chance, for the next I heard of the matter was when Mitchell + Holmes rang me up on the Friday and asked me if I would accompany him + round the links next day in the match he was playing with Alexander, and + give him my moral support. + </p> + <p> + "I shall need it," he said. "I don't mind telling you I'm pretty nervous. + I wish I had had longer to get the stranglehold on that 'Are You Your Own + Master?' stuff. I can see, of course, that it is the real tabasco from + start to finish, and absolutely as mother makes it, but the trouble is + I've only had a few days to soak it into my system. It's like trying to + patch up a motor car with string. You never know when the thing will break + down. Heaven knows what will happen if I sink a ball at the water-hole. + And something seems to tell me I am going to do it." + </p> + <p> + There was a silence for a moment. + </p> + <p> + "Do you believe in dreams?" asked Mitchell. + </p> + <p> + "Believe in what?" + </p> + <p> + "Dreams." + </p> + <p> + "What about them?" + </p> + <p> + "I said, 'Do you believe in dreams?' Because last night I dreamed that I + was playing in the final of the Open Championship, and I got into the + rough, and there was a cow there, and the cow looked at me in a sad sort + of way and said, 'Why don't you use the two-V grip instead of the + interlocking?' At the time it seemed an odd sort of thing to happen, but + I've been thinking it over and I wonder if there isn't something in it. + These things must be sent to us for a purpose." + </p> + <p> + "You can't change your grip on the day of an important match." + </p> + <p> + "I suppose not. The fact is, I'm a bit jumpy, or I wouldn't have mentioned + it. Oh, well! See you tomorrow at two." + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The day was bright and sunny, but a tricky cross-wind was blowing when I + reached the club-house. Alexander Paterson was there, practising swings on + the first tee; and almost immediately Mitchell Holmes arrived, accompanied + by Millicent. + </p> + <p> + "Perhaps," said Alexander, "we had better be getting under way. Shall I + take the honour?" + </p> + <p> + "Certainly," said Mitchell. + </p> + <p> + Alexander teed up his ball. + </p> + <p> + Alexander Paterson has always been a careful rather than a dashing player. + It is his custom, a sort of ritual, to take two measured practice-swings + before addressing the ball, even on the putting-green. When he does + address the ball he shuffles his feet for a moment or two, then pauses, + and scans the horizon in a suspicious sort of way, as if he had been + expecting it to play some sort of a trick on him when he was not looking. + A careful inspection seems to convince him of the horizon's <i>bona fides</i>, + and he turns his attention to the ball again. He shuffles his feet once + more, then raises his club. He waggles the club smartly over the ball + three times, then lays it behind the globule. At this point he suddenly + peers at the horizon again, in the apparent hope of catching it off its + guard. This done, he raises his club very slowly, brings it back very + slowly till it almost touches the ball, raises it again, brings it down + again, raises it once more, and brings it down for the third time. He then + stands motionless, wrapped in thought, like some Indian fakir + contemplating the infinite. Then he raises his club again and replaces it + behind the ball. Finally he quivers all over, swings very slowly back, and + drives the ball for about a hundred and fifty yards in a dead straight + line. + </p> + <p> + It is a method of procedure which proves sometimes a little exasperating + to the highly strung, and I watched Mitchell's face anxiously to see how + he was taking his first introduction to it. The unhappy lad had blenched + visibly. He turned to me with the air of one in pain. + </p> + <p> + "Does he always do that?" he whispered. + </p> + <p> + "Always," I replied. + </p> + <p> + "Then I'm done for! No human being could play golf against a one-ring + circus like that without blowing up!" + </p> + <p> + I said nothing. It was, I feared, only too true. Well-poised as I am, I + had long since been compelled to give up playing with Alexander Paterson, + much as I esteemed him. It was a choice between that and resigning from + the Baptist Church. + </p> + <p> + At this moment Millicent spoke. There was an open book in her hand. I + recognized it as the life-work of Professor Rollitt. + </p> + <p> + "Think on this doctrine," she said, in her soft, modulated voice, "that to + be patient is a branch of justice, and that men sin without intending it." + </p> + <p> + Mitchell nodded briefly, and walked to the tee with a firm step. + </p> + <p> + "Before you drive, darling," said Millicent, "remember this. Let no act be + done at haphazard, nor otherwise than according to the finished rules that + govern its kind." + </p> + <p> + The next moment Mitchell's ball was shooting through the air, to come to + rest two hundred yards down the course. It was a magnificent drive. He had + followed the counsel of Marcus Aurelius to the letter. + </p> + <p> + An admirable iron-shot put him in reasonable proximity to the pin, and he + holed out in one under bogey with one of the nicest putts I have ever + beheld. And when at the next hole, the dangerous water-hole, his ball + soared over the pond and lay safe, giving him bogey for the hole, I began + for the first time to breathe freely. Every golfer has his day, and this + was plainly Mitchell's. He was playing faultless golf. If he could + continue in this vein, his unfortunate failing would have no chance to + show itself. + </p> + <p> + The third hole is long and tricky. You drive over a ravine—or + possibly into it. In the latter event you breathe a prayer and call for + your niblick. But, once over the ravine, there is nothing to disturb the + equanimity. Bogey is five, and a good drive, followed by a brassey-shot, + will put you within easy mashie-distance of the green. + </p> + <p> + Mitchell cleared the ravine by a hundred and twenty yards. He strolled + back to me, and watched Alexander go through his ritual with an indulgent + smile. I knew just how he was feeling. Never does the world seem so sweet + and fair and the foibles of our fellow human beings so little irritating + as when we have just swatted the pill right on the spot. + </p> + <p> + "I can't see why he does it," said Mitchell, eyeing Alexander with a + toleration that almost amounted to affection. "If I did all those Swedish + exercises before I drove, I should forget what I had come out for and go + home." Alexander concluded the movements, and landed a bare three yards on + the other side of the ravine. "He's what you would call a steady + performer, isn't he? Never varies!" + </p> + <p> + Mitchell won the hole comfortably. There was a jauntiness about his stance + on the fourth tee which made me a little uneasy. Over-confidence at golf + is almost as bad as timidity. + </p> + <p> + My apprehensions were justified. Mitchell topped his ball. It rolled + twenty yards into the rough, and nestled under a dock-leaf. His mouth + opened, then closed with a snap. He came over to where Millicent and I + were standing. + </p> + <p> + "I didn't say it!" he said. "What on earth happened then?" + </p> + <p> + "Search men's governing principles," said Millicent, "and consider the + wise, what they shun and what they cleave to." + </p> + <p> + "Exactly," I said. "You swayed your body." + </p> + <p> + "And now I've got to go and look for that infernal ball." + </p> + <p> + "Never mind, darling," said Millicent. "Nothing has such power to broaden + the mind as the ability to investigate systematically and truly all that + comes under thy observation in life." + </p> + <p> + "Besides," I said, "you're three up." + </p> + <p> + "I shan't be after this hole." + </p> + <p> + He was right. Alexander won it in five, one above bogey, and regained the + honour. + </p> + <p> + Mitchell was a trifle shaken. His play no longer had its first careless + vigour. He lost the next hole, halved the sixth, lost the short seventh, + and then, rallying, halved the eighth. + </p> + <p> + The ninth hole, like so many on our links, can be a perfectly simple four, + although the rolling nature of the green makes bogey always a somewhat + doubtful feat; but, on the other hand, if you foozle your drive, you can + easily achieve double figures. The tee is on the farther side of the pond, + beyond the bridge, where the water narrows almost to the dimensions of a + brook. You drive across this water and over a tangle of trees and + under-growth on the other bank. The distance to the fairway cannot be more + than sixty yards, for the hazard is purely a mental one, and yet how many + fair hopes have been wrecked there! + </p> + <p> + Alexander cleared the obstacles comfortably with his customary short, + straight drive, and Mitchell advanced to the tee. + </p> + <p> + I think the loss of the honour had been preying on his mind. He seemed + nervous. His up-swing was shaky, and he swayed back perceptibly. He made a + lunge at the ball, sliced it, and it struck a tree on the other side of + the water and fell in the long grass. We crossed the bridge to look for + it; and it was here that the effect of Professor Rollitt began definitely + to wane. + </p> + <p> + "Why on earth don't they mow this darned stuff?" demanded Mitchell, + querulously, as he beat about the grass with his niblick. + </p> + <p> + "You have to have rough on a course," I ventured. + </p> + <p> + "Whatever happens at all," said Millicent, "happens as it should. Thou + wilt find this true if thou shouldst watch narrowly." + </p> + <p> + "That's all very well," said Mitchell, watching narrowly in a clump of + weeds but seeming unconvinced. "I believe the Greens Committee run this + bally club purely in the interests of the caddies. I believe they + encourage lost balls, and go halves with the little beasts when they find + them and sell them!" + </p> + <p> + Millicent and I exchanged glances. There were tears in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Mitchell! Remember Napoleon!" + </p> + <p> + "Napoleon! What's Napoleon got to do with it? Napoleon never was expected + to drive through a primeval forest. Besides, what did Napoleon ever do? + Where did Napoleon get off, swanking round as if he amounted to something? + Poor fish! All he ever did was to get hammered at Waterloo!" + </p> + <p> + Alexander rejoined us. He had walked on to where his ball lay. + </p> + <p> + "Can't find it, eh? Nasty bit of rough, this!" + </p> + <p> + "No, I can't find it. But tomorrow some miserable, chinless, half-witted + reptile of a caddie with pop eyes and eight hundred and thirty-seven + pimples will find it, and will sell it to someone for sixpence! No, it was + a brand-new ball. He'll probably get a shilling for it. That'll be + sixpence for himself and sixpence for the Greens Committee. No wonder + they're buying cars quicker than the makers can supply them. No wonder you + see their wives going about in mink coats and pearl necklaces. Oh, dash + it! I'll drop another!" + </p> + <p> + "In that case," Alexander pointed out, "you will, of course, under the + rules governing match-play, lose the hole." + </p> + <p> + "All right, then. I'll give up the hole." + </p> + <p> + "Then that, I think, makes me one up on the first nine," said Alexander. + "Excellent! A very pleasant, even game." + </p> + <p> + "Pleasant! On second thoughts I don't believe the Greens Committee let the + wretched caddies get any of the loot. They hang round behind trees till + the deal's concluded, and then sneak out and choke it out of them!" + </p> + <p> + I saw Alexander raise his eyebrows. He walked up the hill to the next tee + with me. + </p> + <p> + "Rather a quick-tempered young fellow, Holmes!" he said, thoughtfully. "I + should never have suspected it. It just shows how little one can know of a + man, only meeting him in business hours." + </p> + <p> + I tried to defend the poor lad. + </p> + <p> + "He has an excellent heart, Alexander. But the fact is—we are such + old friends that I know you will forgive my mentioning it—your style + of play gets, I fancy, a little on his nerves." + </p> + <p> + "My style of play? What's wrong with my style of play?" + </p> + <p> + "Nothing is actually wrong with it, but to a young and ardent spirit there + is apt to be something a trifle upsetting in being, compelled to watch a + man play quite so slowly as you do. Come now, Alexander, as one friend to + another, is it necessary to take two practice-swings before you putt?" + </p> + <p> + "Dear, dear!" said Alexander. "You really mean to say that that upsets + him? Well, I'm afraid I am too old to change my methods now." + </p> + <p> + I had nothing more to say. + </p> + <p> + As we reached the tenth tee, I saw that we were in for a few minutes' + wait. Suddenly I felt a hand on my arm. Millicent was standing beside me, + dejection written on her face. Alexander and young Mitchell were some + distance away from us. + </p> + <p> + "Mitchell doesn't want me to come round the rest of the way with him," she + said, despondently. "He says I make him nervous." + </p> + <p> + I shook my head. + </p> + <p> + "That's bad! I was looking on you as a steadying influence." + </p> + <p> + "I thought I was, too. But Mitchell says no. He says my being there keeps + him from concentrating." + </p> + <p> + "Then perhaps it would be better for you to remain in the club-house till + we return. There is, I fear, dirty work ahead." + </p> + <p> + A choking sob escaped the unhappy girl. + </p> + <p> + "I'm afraid so. There is an apple tree near the thirteenth hole, and + Mitchell's caddie is sure to start eating apples. I am thinking of what + Mitchell will do when he hears the crunching when he is addressing his + ball." + </p> + <p> + "That is true." + </p> + <p> + "Our only hope," she said, holding out Professor Rollitt's book, "is this. + Will you please read him extracts when you see him getting nervous? We + went through the book last night and marked all the passages in blue + pencil which might prove helpful. You will see notes against them in the + margin, showing when each is supposed to be used." + </p> + <p> + It was a small favour to ask. I took the book and gripped her hand + silently. Then I joined Alexander and Mitchell on the tenth tee. Mitchell + was still continuing his speculations regarding the Greens Committee. + </p> + <p> + "The hole after this one," he said, "used to be a short hole. There was no + chance of losing a ball. Then, one day, the wife of one of the Greens + Committee happened to mention that the baby needed new shoes, so now + they've tacked on another hundred and fifty yards to it. You have to drive + over the brow of a hill, and if you slice an eighth of an inch you get + into a sort of No Man's Land, full of rocks and bushes and crevices and + old pots and pans. The Greens Committee practically live there in the + summer. You see them prowling round in groups, encouraging each other with + merry cries as they fill their sacks. Well, I'm going to fool them today. + I'm going to drive an old ball which is just hanging together by a thread. + It'll come to pieces when they pick it up!" + </p> + <p> + Golf, however, is a curious game—a game of fluctuations. One might + have supposed that Mitchell, in such a frame of mind, would have continued + to come to grief. But at the beginning of the second nine he once more + found his form. A perfect drive put him in position to reach the tenth + green with an iron-shot, and, though the ball was several yards from the + hole, he laid it dead with his approach-putt and holed his second for a + bogey four. Alexander could only achieve a five, so that they were all + square again. + </p> + <p> + The eleventh, the subject of Mitchell's recent criticism, is certainly a + tricky hole, and it is true that a slice does land the player in grave + difficulties. Today, however, both men kept their drives straight, and + found no difficulty in securing fours. + </p> + <p> + "A little more of this," said Mitchell, beaming, "and the Greens Committee + will have to give up piracy and go back to work." + </p> + <p> + The twelfth is a long, dog-leg hole, bogey five. Alexander plugged + steadily round the bend, holing out in six, and Mitchell, whose second + shot had landed him in some long grass, was obliged to use his niblick. He + contrived, however, to halve the hole with a nicely-judged mashie-shot to + the edge of the green. + </p> + <p> + Alexander won the thirteenth. It is a three hundred and sixty yard hole, + free from bunkers. It took Alexander three strokes to reach the green, but + his third laid the ball dead; while Mitchell, who was on in two, required + three putts. + </p> + <p> + "That reminds me," said Alexander, chattily, "of a story I heard. Friend + calls out to a beginner, 'How are you getting on, old man?' and the + beginner says, 'Splendidly. I just made three perfect putts on the last + green!'" + </p> + <p> + Mitchell did not appear amused. I watched his face anxiously. He had made + no remark, but the missed putt which would have saved the hole had been + very short, and I feared the worst. There was a brooding look in his eye + as we walked to the fourteenth tee. + </p> + <p> + There are few more picturesque spots in the whole of the countryside than + the neighbourhood of the fourteenth tee. It is a sight to charm the + nature-lover's heart. + </p> + <p> + But, if golf has a defect, it is that it prevents a man being a + whole-hearted lover of nature. Where the layman sees waving grass and + romantic tangles of undergrowth, your golfer beholds nothing but a nasty + patch of rough from which he must divert his ball. The cry of the birds, + wheeling against the sky, is to the golfer merely something that may put + him off his putt. As a spectator, I am fond of the ravine at the bottom of + the slope. It pleases the eye. But, as a golfer, I have frequently found + it the very devil. + </p> + <p> + The last hole had given Alexander the honour again. He drove even more + deliberately than before. For quite half a minute he stood over his ball, + pawing at it with his driving-iron like a cat investigating a tortoise. + Finally he despatched it to one of the few safe spots on the hillside. The + drive from this tee has to be carefully calculated, for, if it be too + straight, it will catch the slope and roll down into the ravine. + </p> + <p> + Mitchell addressed his ball. He swung up, and then, from immediately + behind him came a sudden sharp crunching sound. I looked quickly in the + direction whence it came. Mitchell's caddie, with a glassy look in his + eyes, was gnawing a large apple. And even as I breathed a silent prayer, + down came the driver, and the ball, with a terrible slice on it, hit the + side of the hill and bounded into the ravine. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause—a pause in which the world stood still. Mitchell + dropped his club and turned. His face was working horribly. + </p> + <p> + "Mitchell!" I cried. "My boy! Reflect! Be calm!" + </p> + <p> + "Calm! What's the use of being calm when people are chewing apples in + thousands all round you? What <i>is</i> this, anyway—a golf match or + a pleasant day's outing for the children of the poor? Apples! Go on, my + boy, take another bite. Take several. Enjoy yourself! Never mind if it + seems to cause me a fleeting annoyance. Go on with your lunch! You + probably had a light breakfast, eh, and are feeling a little peckish, yes? + If you will wait here, I will run to the clubhouse and get you a sandwich + and a bottle of ginger-ale. Make yourself quite at home, you lovable + little fellow! Sit down and have a good time!" + </p> + <p> + I turned the pages of Professor Rollitt's book feverishly. I could not + find a passage that had been marked in blue pencil to meet this emergency. + I selected one at random. + </p> + <p> + "Mitchell," I said, "one moment. How much time he gains who does not look + to see what his neighbour says or does, but only at what he does himself, + to make it just and holy." + </p> + <p> + "Well, look what I've done myself! I'm somewhere down at the bottom of + that dashed ravine, and it'll take me a dozen strokes to get out. Do you + call that just and holy? Here, give me that book for a moment!" + </p> + <p> + He snatched the little volume out of my hands. For an instant he looked at + it with a curious expression of loathing, then he placed it gently on the + ground and jumped on it a few times. Then he hit it with his driver. + Finally, as if feeling that the time for half measures had passed, he took + a little run and kicked it strongly into the long grass. + </p> + <p> + He turned to Alexander, who had been an impassive spectator of the scene. + </p> + <p> + "I'm through!" he said. "I concede the match. Good-bye. You'll find me in + the bay!" + </p> + <p> + "Going swimming?" + </p> + <p> + "No. Drowning myself." + </p> + <p> + A gentle smile broke out over my old friend's usually grave face. He + patted Mitchell's shoulder affectionately. + </p> + <p> + "Don't do that, my boy," he said. "I was hoping you would stick around the + office awhile as treasurer of the company." + </p> + <p> + Mitchell tottered. He grasped my arm for support. Everything was very + still. Nothing broke the stillness but the humming of the bees, the murmur + of the distant wavelets, and the sound of Mitchell's caddie going on with + his apple. + </p> + <p> + "What!" cried Mitchell. + </p> + <p> + "The position," said Alexander, "will be falling vacant very shortly, as + no doubt you know. It is yours, if you care to accept it." + </p> + <p> + "You mean—you mean—you're going to give me the job?" + </p> + <p> + "You have interpreted me exactly." + </p> + <p> + Mitchell gulped. So did his caddie. One from a spiritual, the other from a + physical cause. + </p> + <p> + "If you don't mind excusing me," said Mitchell, huskily, "I think I'll be + popping back to the club-house. Someone I want to see." + </p> + <p> + He disappeared through the trees, running strongly. I turned to Alexander. + </p> + <p> + "What does this mean?" I asked. "I am delighted, but what becomes of the + test?" + </p> + <p> + My old friend smiled gently. + </p> + <p> + "The test," he replied, "has been eminently satisfactory. Circumstances, + perhaps, have compelled me to modify the original idea of it, but + nevertheless it has been a completely successful test. Since we started + out, I have been doing a good deal of thinking, and I have come to the + conclusion that what the Paterson Dyeing and Refining Company really needs + is a treasurer whom I can beat at golf. And I have discovered the ideal + man. Why," he went on, a look of holy enthusiasm on his fine old face, "do + you realize that I can always lick the stuffing out of that boy, good + player as he is, simply by taking a little trouble? I can make him get the + wind up every time, simply by taking one or two extra practice-swings! + That is the sort of man I need for a responsible post in my office." + </p> + <p> + "But what about Rupert Dixon?" I asked. + </p> + <p> + He gave a gesture of distaste. + </p> + <p> + "I wouldn't trust that man. Why, when I played with him, everything went + wrong, and he just smiled and didn't say a word. A man who can do that is + not the man to trust with the control of large sums of money. It wouldn't + be safe. Why, the fellow isn't honest! He can't be." He paused for a + moment. "Besides," he added, thoughtfully, "he beat me by six and five. + What's the good of a treasurer who beats the boss by six and five?" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 7 — <i>The Long Hole</i> + </h2> + <p> + The young man, as he sat filling his pipe in the club-house smoking-room, + was inclined to be bitter. + </p> + <p> + "If there's one thing that gives me a pain squarely in the centre of the + gizzard," he burst out, breaking a silence that had lasted for some + minutes, "it's a golf-lawyer. They oughtn't to be allowed on the links." + </p> + <p> + The Oldest Member, who had been meditatively putting himself outside a cup + of tea and a slice of seed-cake, raised his white eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + "The Law," he said, "is an honourable profession. Why should its + practitioners be restrained from indulgence in the game of games?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't mean actual lawyers," said the young man, his acerbity mellowing + a trifle under the influence of tobacco. "I mean the blighters whose best + club is the book of rules. You know the sort of excrescences. Every time + you think you've won a hole, they dig out Rule eight hundred and + fifty-three, section two, sub-section four, to prove that you've + disqualified yourself by having an ingrowing toe-nail. Well, take my + case." The young man's voice was high and plaintive. "I go out with that + man Hemmingway to play an ordinary friendly round—nothing depending + on it except a measly ball—and on the seventh he pulls me up and + claims the hole simply because I happened to drop my niblick in the + bunker. Oh, well, a tick's a tick, and there's nothing more to say, I + suppose." + </p> + <p> + The Sage shook his head. + </p> + <p> + "Rules are rules, my boy, and must be kept. It is odd that you should have + brought up this subject, for only a moment before you came in I was + thinking of a somewhat curious match which ultimately turned upon a + question of the rule-book. It is true that, as far as the actual prize was + concerned, it made little difference. But perhaps I had better tell you + the whole story from the beginning." + </p> + <p> + The young man shifted uneasily in his chair. + </p> + <p> + "Well, you know, I've had a pretty rotten time this afternoon already——" + </p> + <p> + "I will call my story," said the Sage, tranquilly, "'The Long Hole', for + it involved the playing of what I am inclined to think must be the longest + hole in the history of golf. In its beginnings the story may remind you of + one I once told you about Peter Willard and James Todd, but you will find + that it develops in quite a different manner. Ralph Bingham...." + </p> + <p> + "I half promised to go and see a man——" + </p> + <p> + "But I will begin at the beginning," said the Sage. "I see that you are + all impatience to hear the full details." + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Ralph Bingham and Arthur Jukes (said the Oldest Member) had never been + friends—their rivalry was too keen to admit of that—but it was + not till Amanda Trivett came to stay here that a smouldering distaste for + each other burst out into the flames of actual enmity. It is ever so. One + of the poets, whose name I cannot recall, has a passage, which I am unable + at the moment to remember, in one of his works, which for the time being + has slipped my mind, which hits off admirably this age-old situation. The + gist of his remarks is that lovely woman rarely fails to start something. + In the weeks that followed her arrival, being in the same room with the + two men was like dropping in on a reunion of Capulets and Montagues. + </p> + <p> + You see, Ralph and Arthur were so exactly equal in their skill on the + links that life for them had for some time past resolved itself into a + silent, bitter struggle in which first one, then the other, gained some + slight advantage. If Ralph won the May medal by a stroke, Arthur would be + one ahead in the June competition, only to be nosed out again in July. It + was a state of affairs which, had they been men of a more generous stamp, + would have bred a mutual respect, esteem, and even love. But I am sorry to + say that, apart from their golf, which was in a class of its own as far as + this neighbourhood was concerned, Ralph Bingham and Arthur Jukes were a + sorry pair—and yet, mark you, far from lacking in mere superficial + good looks. They were handsome fellows, both of them, and well aware of + the fact; and when Amanda Trivett came to stay they simply straightened + their ties, twirled their moustaches, and expected her to do the rest. + </p> + <p> + But there they were disappointed. Perfectly friendly though she was to + both of them, the lovelight was conspicuously absent from her beautiful + eyes. And it was not long before each had come independently to a solution + of this mystery. It was plain to them that the whole trouble lay in the + fact that each neutralized the other's attractions. Arthur felt that, if + he could only have a clear field, all would be over except the sending out + of the wedding invitations; and Ralph was of the opinion that, if he could + just call on the girl one evening without finding the place all littered + up with Arthur, his natural charms would swiftly bring home the bacon. + And, indeed, it was true that they had no rivals except themselves. It + happened at the moment that Woodhaven was very short of eligible + bachelors. We marry young in this delightful spot, and all the likely men + were already paired off. It seemed that, if Amanda Trivett intended to get + married, she would have to select either Ralph Bingham or Arthur Jukes. A + dreadful choice. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + It had not occurred to me at the outset that my position in the affair + would be anything closer than that of a detached and mildly interested + spectator. Yet it was to me that Ralph came in his hour of need. When I + returned home one evening, I found that my man had brought him in and laid + him on the mat in my sitting-room. + </p> + <p> + I offered him a chair and a cigar, and he came to the point with + commendable rapidity. + </p> + <p> + "Leigh," he said, directly he had lighted his cigar, "is too small for + Arthur Jukes and myself." + </p> + <p> + "Ah, you have been talking it over and decided to move?" I said, + delighted. "I think you are perfectly right. Leigh <i>is</i> over-built. + Men like you and Jukes need a lot of space. Where do you think of going?" + </p> + <p> + "I'm not going." + </p> + <p> + "But I thought you said——" + </p> + <p> + "What I meant was that the time has come when one of us must leave." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, only one of you?" It was something, of course, but I confess I was + disappointed, and I think my disappointment must have shown in my voice; + for he looked at me, surprised. + </p> + <p> + "Surely you wouldn't mind Jukes going?" he said. + </p> + <p> + "Why, certainly not. He really is going, is he?" + </p> + <p> + A look of saturnine determination came into Ralph's face. + </p> + <p> + "He is. He thinks he isn't, but he is." + </p> + <p> + I failed to understand him, and said so. He looked cautiously about the + room, as if to reassure himself that he could not be overheard. + </p> + <p> + "I suppose you've noticed," he said, "the disgusting way that man Jukes + has been hanging round Miss Trivett, boring her to death?" + </p> + <p> + "I have seen them together sometimes." + </p> + <p> + "I love Amanda Trivett!" said Ralph. + </p> + <p> + "Poor girl!" I sighed. + </p> + <p> + "I beg your pardon?" + </p> + <p> + "Poor girl!" I said. "I mean, to have Arthur Jukes hanging round her." + </p> + <p> + "That's just what I think," said Ralph Bingham. "And that's why we're + going to play this match." + </p> + <p> + "What match?" + </p> + <p> + "This match we've decided to play. I want you to act as one of the judges, + to go along with Jukes and see that he doesn't play any of his tricks. You + know what he is! And in a vital match like this——" + </p> + <p> + "How much are you playing for?" + </p> + <p> + "The whole world!" + </p> + <p> + "I beg your pardon?" + </p> + <p> + "The whole world. It amounts to that. The loser is to leave Leigh for + good, and the winner stays on and marries Amanda Trivett. We have arranged + all the details. Rupert Bailey will accompany me, acting as the other + judge." + </p> + <p> + "And you want me to go round with Jukes?" + </p> + <p> + "Not round," said Ralph Bingham. "Along." + </p> + <p> + "What is the distinction?" + </p> + <p> + "We are not going to play a round. Only one hole." + </p> + <p> + "Sudden death, eh?" + </p> + <p> + "Not so very sudden. It's a longish hole. We start on the first tee here + and hole out in the town in the doorway of the Majestic Hotel in Royal + Square. A distance, I imagine, of about sixteen miles." + </p> + <p> + I was revolted. About that time a perfect epidemic of freak matches had + broken out in the club, and I had strongly opposed them from the start. + George Willis had begun it by playing a medal round with the pro., + George's first nine against the pro.'s complete eighteen. After that came + the contest between Herbert Widgeon and Montague Brown, the latter, a + twenty-four handicap man, being entitled to shout "Boo!" three times + during the round at moments selected by himself. There had been many more + of these degrading travesties on the sacred game, and I had writhed to see + them. Playing freak golf-matches is to my mind like ragging a great + classical melody. But of the whole collection this one, considering the + sentimental interest and the magnitude of the stakes, seemed to me the + most terrible. My face, I imagine, betrayed my disgust, for Bingham + attempted extenuation. + </p> + <p> + "It's the only way," he said. "You know how Jukes and I are on the links. + We are as level as two men can be. This, of course is due to his + extraordinary luck. Everybody knows that he is the world's champion + fluker. I, on the other hand, invariably have the worst luck. The + consequence is that in an ordinary round it is always a toss-up which of + us wins. The test we propose will eliminate luck. After sixteen miles of + give-and-take play, I am certain—that is to say, the better man is + certain to be ahead. That is what I meant when I said that Arthur Jukes + would shortly be leaving Leigh. Well, may I take it that you will consent + to act as one of the judges?" + </p> + <p> + I considered. After all, the match was likely to be historic, and one + always feels tempted to hand one's name down to posterity. + </p> + <p> + "Very well," I said. + </p> + <p> + "Excellent. You will have to keep a sharp eye on Jukes, I need scarcely + remind you. You will, of course, carry a book of the rules in your pocket + and refer to them when you wish to refresh your memory. We start at + daybreak, for, if we put it off till later, the course at the other end + might be somewhat congested when we reached it. We want to avoid publicity + as far as possible. If I took a full iron and hit a policeman, it would + excite a remark." + </p> + <p> + "It would. I can tell you the exact remark which it would excite." + </p> + <p> + "We will take bicycles with us, to minimize the fatigue of covering the + distance. Well, I am glad that we have your co-operation. At daybreak + tomorrow on the first tee, and don't forget to bring your rule-book." + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The atmosphere brooding over the first tee when I reached it on the + following morning, somewhat resembled that of a duelling-ground in the + days when these affairs were sealed with rapiers or pistols. Rupert + Bailey, an old friend of mine, was the only cheerful member of the party. + I am never at my best in the early morning, and the two rivals glared at + each other with silent sneers. I had never supposed till that moment that + men ever really sneered at one another outside the movies, but these two + were indisputably doing so. They were in the mood when men say "Pshaw!" + </p> + <p> + They tossed for the honour, and Arthur Jukes, having won, drove off with a + fine ball that landed well down the course. Ralph Bingham, having teed up, + turned to Rupert Bailey. + </p> + <p> + "Go down on to the fairway of the seventeenth," he said. "I want you to + mark my ball." + </p> + <p> + Rupert stared. + </p> + <p> + "The seventeenth!" + </p> + <p> + "I am going to take that direction," said Ralph, pointing over the trees. + </p> + <p> + "But that will land your second or third shot in the lake." + </p> + <p> + "I have provided for that. I have a fiat-bottomed boat moored close by the + sixteenth green. I shall use a mashie-niblick and chip my ball aboard, row + across to the other side, chip it ashore, and carry on. I propose to go + across country as far as Woodfield. I think it will save me a stroke or + two." + </p> + <p> + I gasped. I had never before realized the man's devilish cunning. His + tactics gave him a flying start. Arthur, who had driven straight down the + course, had as his objective the high road, which adjoins the waste ground + beyond the first green. Once there, he would play the orthodox game by + driving his ball along till he reached the bridge. While Arthur was + winding along the high road, Ralph would have cut off practically two + sides of a triangle. And it was hopeless for Arthur to imitate his enemy's + tactics now. From where his ball lay he would have to cross a wide tract + of marsh in order to reach the seventeenth fairway—an impossible + feat. And, even if it had been feasible, he had no boat to take him across + the water. + </p> + <p> + He uttered a violent protest. He was an unpleasant young man, almost—it + seems absurd to say so, but almost as unpleasant as Ralph Bingham; yet at + the moment I am bound to say I sympathized with him. + </p> + <p> + "What are you doing?" he demanded. "You can't play fast and loose with the + rules like that." + </p> + <p> + "To what rule do you refer?" said Ralph, coldly. + </p> + <p> + "Well, that bally boat of yours is a hazard, isn't it? And you can't row a + hazard about all over the place." + </p> + <p> + "Why not?" + </p> + <p> + The simple question seemed to take Arthur Jukes aback. + </p> + <p> + "Why not?" he repeated. "Why not? Well, you can't. That's why." + </p> + <p> + "There is nothing in the rules," said Ralph Bingham, "against moving a + hazard. If a hazard can be moved without disturbing the ball, you are at + liberty, I gather, to move it wherever you please. Besides, what is all + this about moving hazards? I have a perfect right to go for a morning row, + haven't I? If I were to ask my doctor, he would probably actually + recommend it. I am going to row my boat across the sound. If it happens to + have my ball on board, that is not my affair. I shall not disturb my ball, + and I shall play it from where it lies. Am I right in saying that the + rules enact that the ball shall be played from where it lies?" + </p> + <p> + We admitted that it was. + </p> + <p> + "Very well, then," said Ralph Bingham. "Don't let us waste any more time. + We will wait for you at Woodfield." + </p> + <p> + He addressed his ball, and drove a beauty over the trees. It flashed out + of sight in the direction of the seventeenth tee. Arthur and I made our + way down the hill to play our second. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + It is a curious trait of the human mind that, however little personal + interest one may have in the result, it is impossible to prevent oneself + taking sides in any event of a competitive nature. I had embarked on this + affair in a purely neutral spirit, not caring which of the two won and + only sorry that both could not lose. Yet, as the morning wore on, I found + myself almost unconsciously becoming distinctly pro-Jukes. I did not like + the man. I objected to his face, his manners, and the colour of his tie. + Yet there was something in the dogged way in which he struggled against + adversity which touched me and won my grudging support. Many men, I felt, + having been so outmanoeuvred at the start, would have given up the contest + in despair; but Arthur Jukes, for all his defects, had the soul of a true + golfer. He declined to give up. In grim silence he hacked his ball through + the rough till he reached the high road; and then, having played + twenty-seven, set himself resolutely to propel it on its long journey. + </p> + <p> + It was a lovely morning, and, as I bicycled along, keeping a fatherly eye + on Arthur's activities, I realized for the first time in my life the full + meaning of that exquisite phrase of Coleridge: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>"Clothing the palpable and familiar + With golden exhalations of the dawn,"</i> +</pre> + <p> + for in the pellucid air everything seemed weirdly beautiful, even Arthur + Jukes' heather-mixture knickerbockers, of which hitherto I had never + approved. The sun gleamed on their seat, as he bent to make his shots, in + a cheerful and almost a poetic way. The birds were singing gaily in the + hedgerows, and such was my uplifted state that I, too, burst into song, + until Arthur petulantly desired me to refrain, on the plea that, though he + yielded to no man in his enjoyment of farmyard imitations in their proper + place, I put him off his stroke. And so we passed through Bayside in + silence and started to cover that long stretch of road which ends in the + railway bridge and the gentle descent into Woodfield. + </p> + <p> + Arthur was not doing badly. He was at least keeping them straight. And in + the circumstances straightness was to be preferred to distance. Soon after + leaving Little Hadley he had become ambitious and had used his brassey + with disastrous results, slicing his fifty-third into the rough on the + right of the road. It had taken him ten with the niblick to get back on to + the car tracks, and this had taught him prudence. + </p> + <p> + He was now using his putter for every shot, and, except when he got + trapped in the cross-lines at the top of the hill just before reaching + Bayside, he had been in no serious difficulties. He was playing a nice + easy game, getting the full face of the putter on to each shot. + </p> + <p> + At the top of the slope that drops down into Woodfield High Street he + paused. + </p> + <p> + "I think I might try my brassey again here," he said. "I have a nice lie." + </p> + <p> + "Is it wise?" I said. + </p> + <p> + He looked down the hill. + </p> + <p> + "What I was thinking," he said, "was that with it I might wing that man + Bingham. I see he is standing right out in the middle of the fairway." + </p> + <p> + I followed his gaze. It was perfectly true. Ralph Bingham was leaning on + his bicycle in the roadway, smoking a cigarette. Even at this distance one + could detect the man's disgustingly complacent expression. Rupert Bailey + was sitting with his back against the door of the Woodfield Garage, + looking rather used up. He was a man who liked to keep himself clean and + tidy, and it was plain that the cross-country trip had done him no good. + He seemed to be scraping mud off his face. I learned later that he had had + the misfortune to fall into a ditch just beyond Bayside. + </p> + <p> + "No," said Arthur. "On second thoughts, the safe game is the one to play. + I'll stick to the putter." + </p> + <p> + We dropped down the hill, and presently came up with the opposition. I had + not been mistaken in thinking that Ralph Bingham looked complacent. The + man was smirking. + </p> + <p> + "Playing three hundred and ninety-six," he said, as we drew near. "How are + you?" + </p> + <p> + I consulted my score-card. + </p> + <p> + "We have played a snappy seven hundred and eleven." I said. + </p> + <p> + Ralph exulted openly. Rupert Bailey made no comment. He was too busy with + the alluvial deposits on his person. + </p> + <p> + "Perhaps you would like to give up the match?" said Ralph to Arthur. + </p> + <p> + "Tchah!" said Arthur. + </p> + <p> + "Might just as well." + </p> + <p> + "Pah!" said Arthur. + </p> + <p> + "You can't win now." + </p> + <p> + "Pshaw!" said Arthur. + </p> + <p> + I am aware that Arthur's dialogue might have been brighter, but he had + been through a trying time. + </p> + <p> + Rupert Bailey sidled up to me. + </p> + <p> + "I'm going home," he said. + </p> + <p> + "Nonsense!" I replied. "You are in an official capacity. You must stick to + your post. Besides, what could be nicer than a pleasant morning ramble?" + </p> + <p> + "Pleasant morning ramble my number nine foot!" he replied, peevishly. "I + want to get back to civilization and set an excavating party with pickaxes + to work on me." + </p> + <p> + "You take too gloomy a view of the matter. You are a little dusty. Nothing + more." + </p> + <p> + "And it's not only the being buried alive that I mind. I cannot stick + Ralph Bingham much longer." + </p> + <p> + "You have found him trying?" + </p> + <p> + "Trying! Why, after I had fallen into that ditch and was coming up for the + third time, all the man did was simply to call to me to admire an infernal + iron shot he had just made. No sympathy, mind you! Wrapped up in himself. + Why don't you make your man give up the match? He can't win." + </p> + <p> + "I refuse to admit it. Much may happen between here and Royal Square." + </p> + <p> + I have seldom known a prophecy more swiftly fulfilled. At this moment the + doors of the Woodfield Garage opened and a small car rolled out with a + grimy young man in a sweater at the wheel. He brought the machine out into + the road, and alighted and went back into the garage, where we heard him + shouting unintelligibly to someone in the rear premises. The car remained + puffing and panting against the kerb. + </p> + <p> + Engaged in conversation with Rupert Bailey, I was paying little attention + to this evidence of an awakening world, when suddenly I heard a hoarse, + triumphant cry from Arthur Jukes, and, turned, I perceived his ball + dropping neatly into the car's interior. Arthur himself, brandishing a + niblick, was dancing about in the fairway. + </p> + <p> + "Now what about your moving hazards?" he cried. + </p> + <p> + At this moment the man in the sweater returned, carrying a spanner. Arthur + Jukes sprang towards him. + </p> + <p> + "I'll give you five pounds to drive me to Royal Square," he said. + </p> + <p> + I do not know what the sweater-clad young man's engagements for the + morning had been originally, but nothing could have been more obliging + than the ready way in which he consented to revise them at a moment's + notice. I dare say you have noticed that the sturdy peasantry of our + beloved land respond to an offer of five pounds as to a bugle-call. + </p> + <p> + "You're on," said the youth. + </p> + <p> + "Good!" said Arthur Jukes. + </p> + <p> + "You think you're darned clever," said Ralph Bingham. + </p> + <p> + "I know it," said Arthur. + </p> + <p> + "Well, then," said Ralph, "perhaps you will tell us how you propose to get + the ball out of the car when you reach Royal Square?" + </p> + <p> + "Certainly," replied Arthur. "You will observe on the side of the vehicle + a convenient handle which, when turned, opens the door. The door thus + opened, I shall chip my ball out!" + </p> + <p> + "I see," said Ralph. "Yes, I never thought of that." + </p> + <p> + There was something in the way the man spoke that I did not like. His + mildness seemed to me suspicious. He had the air of a man who has + something up his sleeve. I was still musing on this when Arthur called to + me impatiently to get in. I did so, and we drove off. Arthur was in great + spirits. He had ascertained from the young man at the wheel that there was + no chance of the opposition being able to hire another car at the garage. + This machine was his own property, and the only other one at present in + the shop was suffering from complicated trouble of the oiling-system and + would not be able to be moved for at least another day. + </p> + <p> + I, however, shook my head when he pointed out the advantages of his + position. I was still wondering about Ralph. + </p> + <p> + "I don't like it," I said. + </p> + <p> + "Don't like what?" + </p> + <p> + "Ralph Bingham's manner." + </p> + <p> + "Of course not," said Arthur. "Nobody does. There have been complaints on + all sides." + </p> + <p> + "I mean, when you told him how you intended to get the ball out of the + car." + </p> + <p> + "What was the matter with him?" + </p> + <p> + "He was too—ha!" + </p> + <p> + "How do you mean he was too—ha?" + </p> + <p> + "I have it!" + </p> + <p> + "What?" + </p> + <p> + "I see the trap he was laying for you. It has just dawned on me. No wonder + he didn't object to your opening the door and chipping the ball out. By + doing so you would forfeit the match." + </p> + <p> + "Nonsense! Why?" + </p> + <p> + "Because," I said, "it is against the rules to tamper with a hazard. If + you had got into a sand-bunker, would you smooth away the sand? If you had + put your shot under a tree, could your caddie hold up the branches to give + you a clear shot? Obviously you would disqualify yourself if you touched + that door." + </p> + <p> + Arthur's jaw dropped. + </p> + <p> + "What! Then how the deuce am I to get it out?" + </p> + <p> + "That," I said, gravely, "is a question between you and your Maker." + </p> + <p> + It was here that Arthur Jukes forfeited the sympathy which I had begun to + feel for him. A crafty, sinister look came into his eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Listen!" he said. "It'll take them an hour to catch up with us. Suppose, + during that time, that door happened to open accidentally, as it were, and + close again? You wouldn't think it necessary to mention the fact, eh? You + would be a good fellow and keep your mouth shut, yes? You might even see + your way to go so far as to back me up in a statement to the effect that I + hooked it out with my——?" + </p> + <p> + I was revolted. + </p> + <p> + "I am a golfer," I said, coldly, "and I obey the rules." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, but——" + </p> + <p> + "Those rules were drawn up by——"—I bared my head + reverently—"by the Committee of the Royal and Ancient at St. + Andrews. I have always respected them, and I shall not deviate on this + occasion from the policy of a lifetime." + </p> + <p> + Arthur Jukes relapsed into a moody silence. He broke it once, crossing the + West Street Bridge, to observe that he would like to know if I called + myself a friend of his—a question which I was able to answer with a + whole-hearted negative. After that he did not speak till the car drew up + in front of the Majestic Hotel in Royal Square. + </p> + <p> + Early as the hour was, a certain bustle and animation already prevailed in + that centre of the city, and the spectacle of a man in a golf-coat and + plus-four knickerbockers hacking with a niblick at the floor of a car was + not long in collecting a crowd of some dimensions. Three messenger-boys, + four typists, and a gentleman in full evening-dress, who obviously + possessed or was friendly with someone who possessed a large cellar, + formed the nucleus of it; and they were joined about the time when Arthur + addressed the ball in order to play his nine hundred and fifteenth by six + news-boys, eleven charladies, and perhaps a dozen assorted loafers, all + speculating with the liveliest interest as to which particular asylum had + had the honour of sheltering Arthur before he had contrived to elude the + vigilance of his custodians. + </p> + <p> + Arthur had prepared for some such contingency. He suspended his activities + with the niblick, and drew from his pocket a large poster, which he + proceeded to hang over the side of the car. It read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + COME + TO + McCLURG AND MACDONALD, + 18, WEST STREET, + FOR + ALL GOLFING SUPPLIES. +</pre> + <p> + His knowledge of psychology had not misled him. Directly they gathered + that he was advertising something, the crowd declined to look at it; they + melted away, and Arthur returned to his work in solitude. + </p> + <p> + He was taking a well-earned rest after playing his eleven hundred and + fifth, a nice niblick shot with lots of wrist behind it, when out of + Bridle Street there trickled a weary-looking golf-ball, followed in the + order named by Ralph Bingham, resolute but going a trifle at the knees, + and Rupert Bailey on a bicycle. The latter, on whose face and limbs the + mud had dried, made an arresting spectacle. + </p> + <p> + "What are you playing?" I inquired. + </p> + <p> + "Eleven hundred," said Rupert. "We got into a casual dog." + </p> + <p> + "A casual dog?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, just before the bridge. We were coming along nicely, when a stray + dog grabbed our nine hundred and ninety-eighth and took it nearly back to + Woodfield, and we had to start all over again. How are you getting on?" + </p> + <p> + "We have just played our eleven hundred and fifth. A nice even game." I + looked at Ralph's ball, which was lying close to the kerb. "You are + farther from the hole, I think. Your shot, Bingham." + </p> + <p> + Rupert Bailey suggested breakfast. He was a man who was altogether too + fond of creature comforts. He had not the true golfing spirit. + </p> + <p> + "Breakfast!" I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + "Breakfast," said Rupert, firmly. "If you don't know what it is, I can + teach you in half a minute. You play it with a pot of coffee, a knife and + fork, and about a hundred-weight of scrambled eggs. Try it. It's a pastime + that grows on you." + </p> + <p> + I was surprised when Ralph Bingham supported the suggestion. He was so + near holing out that I should have supposed that nothing would have kept + him from finishing the match. But he agreed heartily. + </p> + <p> + "Breakfast," he said, "is an excellent idea. You go along in. I'll follow + in a moment. I want to buy a paper." + </p> + <p> + We went into the hotel, and a few minutes later he joined us. Now that we + were actually at the table, I confess that the idea of breakfast was by no + means repugnant to me. The keen air and the exercise had given me an + appetite, and it was some little time before I was able to assure the + waiter definitely that he could cease bringing orders of scrambled eggs. + The others having finished also, I suggested a move. I was anxious to get + the match over and be free to go home. + </p> + <p> + We filed out of the hotel, Arthur Jukes leading. When I had passed through + the swing-doors, I found him gazing perplexedly up and down the street. + </p> + <p> + "What is the matter?" I asked. + </p> + <p> + "It's gone!" + </p> + <p> + "What has gone?" + </p> + <p> + "The car!" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, the car?" said Ralph Bingham. "That's all right. Didn't I tell you + about that? I bought it just now and engaged the driver as my chauffeur, + I've been meaning to buy a car for a long time. A man ought to have a + car." + </p> + <p> + "Where is it?" said Arthur, blankly. The man seemed dazed. + </p> + <p> + "I couldn't tell you to a mile or two," replied Ralph. "I told the man to + drive to Glasgow. Why? Had you any message for him?" + </p> + <p> + "But my ball was inside it!" + </p> + <p> + "Now that," said Ralph, "is really unfortunate! Do you mean to tell me you + hadn't managed to get it out yet? Yes, that is a little awkward for you. + I'm afraid it means that you lose the match." + </p> + <p> + "Lose the match?" + </p> + <p> + "Certainly. The rules are perfectly definite on that point. A period of + five minutes is allowed for each stroke. The player who fails to make his + stroke within that time loses the hole. Unfortunate, but there it is!" + </p> + <p> + Arthur Jukes sank down on the path and buried his face in his hands. He + had the appearance of a broken man. Once more, I am bound to say, I felt a + certain pity for him. He had certainly struggled gamely, and it was hard + to be beaten like this on the post. + </p> + <p> + "Playing eleven hundred and one," said Ralph Bingham, in his odiously + self-satisfied voice, as he addressed his ball. He laughed jovially. A + messenger-boy had paused close by and was watching the proceedings + gravely. Ralph Bingham patted him on the head. + </p> + <p> + "Well, sonny," he said, "what club would <i>you</i> use here?" + </p> + <p> + "I claim the match!" cried Arthur Jukes, springing up. Ralph Bingham + regarded him coldly. + </p> + <p> + "I beg your pardon?" + </p> + <p> + "I claim the match!" repeated Arthur Jukes. "The rules say that a player + who asks advice from any person other than his caddie shall lose the + hole." + </p> + <p> + "This is absurd!" said Ralph, but I noticed that he had turned pale. + </p> + <p> + "I appeal to the judges." + </p> + <p> + "We sustain the appeal," I said, after a brief consultation with Rupert + Bailey. "The rule is perfectly clear." + </p> + <p> + "But you had lost the match already by not playing within five minutes," + said Ralph, vehemently. + </p> + <p> + "It was not my turn to play. You were farther from the pin." + </p> + <p> + "Well, play now. Go on! Let's see you make your shot." + </p> + <p> + "There is no necessity," said Arthur, frigidly. "Why should I play when + you have already disqualified yourself?" + </p> + <p> + "I claim a draw!" + </p> + <p> + "I deny the claim." + </p> + <p> + "I appeal to the judges." + </p> + <p> + "Very well. We will leave it to the judges." + </p> + <p> + I consulted with Rupert Bailey. It seemed to me that Arthur Jukes was + entitled to the verdict. Rupert, who, though an amiable and delightful + companion, had always been one of Nature's fat-heads, could not see it. We + had to go back to our principals and announce that we had been unable to + agree. + </p> + <p> + "This is ridiculous," said Ralph Bingham. "We ought to have had a third + judge." + </p> + <p> + At this moment, who should come out of the hotel but Amanda Trivett! A + veritable goddess from the machine. + </p> + <p> + "It seems to me," I said, "that you would both be well advised to leave + the decision to Miss Trivett. You could have no better referee." + </p> + <p> + "I'm game," said Arthur Jukes. + </p> + <p> + "Suits <i>me</i>," said Ralph Bingham. + </p> + <p> + "Why, whatever are you all doing here with your golf-clubs?" asked the + girl, wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + "These two gentlemen," I explained, "have been playing a match, and a + point has arisen on which the judges do not find themselves in agreement. + We need an unbiased outside opinion, and we should like to put it up to + you. The facts are as follows:..." + </p> + <p> + Amanda Trivett listened attentively, but, when I had finished, she shook + her head. + </p> + <p> + "I'm afraid I don't know enough about the game to be able to decide a + question like that," she said. + </p> + <p> + "Then we must consult St. Andrews," said Rupert Bailey. + </p> + <p> + "I'll tell you who might know," said Amanda Trivett, after a moment's + thought. + </p> + <p> + "Who is that?" I asked. + </p> + <p> + "My <i>fiance</i>. He has just come back from a golfing holiday. That's + why I'm in town this morning. I've been to meet him. He is very good at + golf. He won a medal at Little-Mudbury-in-the-Wold the day before he + left." + </p> + <p> + There was a tense silence. I had the delicacy not to look at Ralph or + Arthur. Then the silence was broken by a sharp crack. Ralph Bingham had + broken his mashie-niblick across his knee. From the direction where Arthur + Jukes was standing there came a muffled gulp. + </p> + <p> + "Shall I ask him?" said Amanda Trivett. + </p> + <p> + "Don't bother," said Ralph Bingham. + </p> + <p> + "It doesn't matter," said Arthur Jukes. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 8 — <i>The Heel of Achilles</i> + </h2> + <p> + On the young man's face, as he sat sipping his ginger-ale in the + club-house smoking-room, there was a look of disillusionment. "Never + again!" he said. + </p> + <p> + The Oldest Member glanced up from his paper. + </p> + <p> + "You are proposing to give up golf once more?" he queried. + </p> + <p> + "Not golf. Betting on golf." The Young Man frowned. "I've just been let + down badly. Wouldn't you have thought I had a good thing, laying seven to + one on McTavish against Robinson?" + </p> + <p> + "Undoubtedly," said the Sage. "The odds, indeed, generous as they are, + scarcely indicate the former's superiority. Do you mean to tell me that + the thing came unstitched?" + </p> + <p> + "Robinson won in a walk, after being three down at the turn. + </p> + <p> + "Strange! What happened?" + </p> + <p> + "Why, they looked in at the bar to have a refresher before starting for + the tenth," said the young man, his voice quivering, "and McTavish + suddenly discovered that there was a hole in his trouser-pocket and + sixpence had dropped out. He worried so frightfully about it that on the + second nine he couldn't do a thing right. Went completely off his game and + didn't win a hole." + </p> + <p> + The Sage shook his head gravely. + </p> + <p> + "If this is really going to be a lesson to you, my boy, never to bet on + the result of a golf-match, it will be a blessing in disguise. There is no + such thing as a certainty in golf. I wonder if I ever told you a rather + curious episode in the career of Vincent Jopp?" + </p> + <p> + "<i>The</i> Vincent Jopp? The American multi-millionaire?" + </p> + <p> + "The same. You never knew he once came within an ace of winning the + American Amateur Championship, did you?" + </p> + <p> + "I never heard of his playing golf." + </p> + <p> + "He played for one season. After that he gave it up and has not touched a + club since. Ring the bell and get me a small lime-juice, and I will tell + you all." + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + It was long before your time (said the Oldest Member) that the events + which I am about to relate took place. I had just come down from + Cambridge, and was feeling particularly pleased with myself because I had + secured the job of private and confidential secretary to Vincent Jopp, + then a man in the early thirties, busy in laying the foundations of his + present remarkable fortune. He engaged me, and took me with him to + Chicago. + </p> + <p> + Jopp was, I think, the most extraordinary personality I have encountered + in a long and many-sided life. He was admirably equipped for success in + finance, having the steely eye and square jaw without which it is hopeless + for a man to enter that line of business. He possessed also an + overwhelming confidence in himself, and the ability to switch a cigar from + one corner of his mouth to the other without wiggling his ears, which, as + you know, is the stamp of the true Monarch of the Money Market. He was the + nearest approach to the financier on the films, the fellow who makes his + jaw-muscles jump when he is telephoning, that I have ever seen. + </p> + <p> + Like all successful men, he was a man of method. He kept a pad on his desk + on which he would scribble down his appointments, and it was my duty on + entering the office each morning to take this pad and type its contents + neatly in a loose-leaved ledger. Usually, of course, these entries + referred to business appointments and deals which he was contemplating, + but one day I was interested to note, against the date May 3rd, the entry: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "<i>Propose to Amelia</i>" +</pre> + <p> + I was interested, as I say, but not surprised. Though a man of steel and + iron, there was nothing of the celibate about Vincent Jopp. He was one of + those men who marry early and often. On three separate occasions before I + joined his service he had jumped off the dock, to scramble back to shore + again later by means of the Divorce Court lifebelt. Scattered here and + there about the country there were three ex-Mrs. Jopps, drawing their + monthly envelope, and now, it seemed, he contemplated the addition of a + fourth to the platoon. + </p> + <p> + I was not surprised, I say, at this resolve of his. What did seem a little + remarkable to me was the thorough way in which he had thought the thing + out. This iron-willed man recked nothing of possible obstacles. Under the + date of June 1st was the entry: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "<i>Marry Amelia</i>"; +</pre> + <p> + while in March of the following year he had arranged to have his + first-born christened Thomas Reginald. Later on, the short-coating of + Thomas Reginald was arranged for, and there was a note about sending him + to school. Many hard things have been said of Vincent Jopp, but nobody has + ever accused him of not being a man who looked ahead. + </p> + <p> + On the morning of May 4th Jopp came into the office, looking, I fancied, a + little thoughtful. He sat for some moments staring before him with his + brow a trifle furrowed; then he seemed to come to himself. He rapped his + desk. + </p> + <p> + "Hi! You!" he said. It was thus that he habitually addressed me. + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Jopp?" I replied. + </p> + <p> + "What's golf?" + </p> + <p> + I had at that time just succeeded in getting my handicap down into single + figures, and I welcomed the opportunity of dilating on the noblest of + pastimes. But I had barely begun my eulogy when he stopped me. + </p> + <p> + "It's a game, is it?" + </p> + <p> + "I suppose you could call it that," I said, "but it is an offhand way of + describing the holiest——" + </p> + <p> + "How do you play it?" + </p> + <p> + "Pretty well," I said. "At the beginning of the season I didn't seem able + to keep 'em straight at all, but lately I've been doing fine. Getting + better every day. Whether it was that I was moving my head or gripping too + tightly with the right hand——" + </p> + <p> + "Keep the reminiscences for your grandchildren during the long winter + evenings," he interrupted, abruptly, as was his habit. "What I want to + know is what a fellow does when he plays golf. Tell me in as few words as + you can just what it's all about." + </p> + <p> + "You hit a ball with a stick till it falls into a hole." + </p> + <p> + "Easy!" he snapped. "Take dictation." + </p> + <p> + I produced my pad. + </p> + <p> + "May the fifth, take up golf. What's an Amateur Championship?" + </p> + <p> + "It is the annual competition to decide which is the best player among the + amateurs. There is also a Professional Championship, and an Open event." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, there are golf professionals, are there? What do they do?" + </p> + <p> + "They teach golf." + </p> + <p> + "Which is the best of them?" + </p> + <p> + "Sandy McHoots won both British and American Open events last year." + </p> + <p> + "Wire him to come here at once." + </p> + <p> + "But McHoots is in Inverlochty, in Scotland." + </p> + <p> + "Never mind. Get him; tell him to name his own terms. When is the Amateur + Championship?" + </p> + <p> + "I think it is on September the twelfth this year." + </p> + <p> + "All right, take dictation. September twelfth win Amateur Championship." + </p> + <p> + I stared at him in amazement, but he was not looking at me. + </p> + <p> + "Got that?" he said. "September thir—Oh, I was forgetting! Add + September twelfth, corner wheat. September thirteenth, marry Amelia." + </p> + <p> + "Marry Amelia," I echoed, moistening my pencil. + </p> + <p> + "Where do you play this—what's-its-name—golf?" + </p> + <p> + "There are clubs all over the country. I belong to the Wissahicky Glen." + </p> + <p> + "That a good place?" + </p> + <p> + "Very good." + </p> + <p> + "Arrange today for my becoming a member." + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Sandy McHoots arrived in due course, and was shown into the private + office. + </p> + <p> + "Mr. McHoots?" said Vincent Jopp. + </p> + <p> + "Mphm!" said the Open Champion. + </p> + <p> + "I have sent for you, Mr. McHoots, because I hear that you are the + greatest living exponent of this game of golf." + </p> + <p> + "Aye," said the champion, cordially. "I am that." + </p> + <p> + "I wish you to teach me the game. I am already somewhat behind schedule + owing to the delay incident upon your long journey, so let us start at + once. Name a few of the most important points in connection with the game. + My secretary will make notes of them, and I will memorize them. In this + way we shall save time. Now, what is the most important thing to remember + when playing golf?" + </p> + <p> + "Keep your heid still." + </p> + <p> + "A simple task." + </p> + <p> + "Na sae simple as it soonds." + </p> + <p> + "Nonsense!" said Vincent Jopp, curtly. "If I decide to keep my head still, + I shall keep it still. What next?" + </p> + <p> + "Keep yer ee on the ba'." + </p> + <p> + "It shall be attended to. And the next?" + </p> + <p> + "Dinna press." + </p> + <p> + "I won't. And to resume." + </p> + <p> + Mr. McHoots ran through a dozen of the basic rules, and I took them down + in shorthand. Vincent Jopp studied the list. + </p> + <p> + "Very good. Easier than I had supposed. On the first tee at Wissahicky + Glen at eleven sharp tomorrow, Mr. McHoots. Hi! You!" + </p> + <p> + "Sir?" I said. + </p> + <p> + "Go out and buy me a set of clubs, a red jacket, a cloth cap, a pair of + spiked shoes, and a ball." + </p> + <p> + "One ball?" + </p> + <p> + "Certainly. What need is there of more?" + </p> + <p> + "It sometimes happens," I explained, "that a player who is learning the + game fails to hit his ball straight, and then he often loses it in the + rough at the side of the fairway." + </p> + <p> + "Absurd!" said Vincent Jopp. "If I set out to drive my ball straight, I + shall drive it straight. Good morning, Mr. McHoots. You will excuse me + now. I am busy cornering Woven Textiles." + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Golf is in its essence a simple game. You laugh in a sharp, bitter, + barking manner when I say this, but nevertheless it is true. Where the + average man goes wrong is in making the game difficult for himself. + Observe the non-player, the man who walks round with you for the sake of + the fresh air. He will hole out with a single care-free flick of his + umbrella the twenty-foot putt over which you would ponder and hesitate for + a full minute before sending it right off the line. Put a driver in his + hands and he pastes the ball into the next county without a thought. It is + only when he takes to the game in earnest that he becomes self-conscious + and anxious, and tops his shots even as you and I. A man who could retain + through his golfing career the almost scornful confidence of the + non-player would be unbeatable. Fortunately such an attitude of mind is + beyond the scope of human nature. + </p> + <p> + It was not, however, beyond the scope of Vincent Jopp, the superman. + Vincent Jopp, was, I am inclined to think, the only golfer who ever + approached the game in a spirit of Pure Reason. I have read of men who, + never having swum in their lives, studied a text-book on their way down to + the swimming bath, mastered its contents, and dived in and won the big + race. In just such a spirit did Vincent Jopp start to play golf. He + committed McHoots's hints to memory, and then went out on the links and + put them into practice. He came to the tee with a clear picture in his + mind of what he had to do, and he did it. He was not intimidated, like the + average novice, by the thought that if he pulled in his hands he would + slice, or if he gripped too tightly with the right he would pull. Pulling + in the hands was an error, so he did not pull in his hands. Gripping too + tightly was a defect, so he did not grip too tightly. With that weird + concentration which had served him so well in business he did precisely + what he had set out to do—no less and no more. Golf with Vincent + Jopp was an exact science. + </p> + <p> + The annals of the game are studded with the names of those who have made + rapid progress in their first season. Colonel Quill, we read in our + Vardon, took up golf at the age of fifty-six, and by devising an ingenious + machine consisting of a fishing-line and a sawn-down bedpost was enabled + to keep his head so still that he became a scratch player before the end + of the year. But no one, I imagine, except Vincent Jopp, has ever achieved + scratch on his first morning on the links. + </p> + <p> + The main difference, we are told, between the amateur and the professional + golfer is the fact that the latter is always aiming at the pin, while the + former has in his mind a vague picture of getting somewhere reasonably + near it. Vincent Jopp invariably went for the pin. He tried to hole out + from anywhere inside two hundred and twenty yards. The only occasion on + which I ever heard him express any chagrin or disappointment was during + the afternoon round on his first day out, when from the tee on the two + hundred and eighty yard seventh he laid his ball within six inches of the + hole. + </p> + <p> + "A marvellous shot!" I cried, genuinely stirred. + </p> + <p> + "Too much to the right," said Vincent Jopp, frowning. + </p> + <p> + He went on from triumph to triumph. He won the monthly medal in May, June, + July, August, and September. Towards the end of May he was heard to + complain that Wissahicky Glen was not a sporting course. The Greens + Committee sat up night after night trying to adjust his handicap so as to + give other members an outside chance against him. The golf experts of the + daily papers wrote columns about his play. And it was pretty generally + considered throughout the country that it would be a pure formality for + anyone else to enter against him in the Amateur Championship—an + opinion which was borne out when he got through into the final without + losing a hole. A safe man to have betted on, you would have said. But mark + the sequel. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The American Amateur Championship was held that year in Detroit. I had + accompanied my employer there; for, though engaged on this nerve-wearing + contest, he refused to allow his business to be interfered with. As he had + indicated in his schedule, he was busy at the time cornering wheat; and it + was my task to combine the duties of caddy and secretary. Each day I + accompanied him round the links with my note-book and his bag of clubs, + and the progress of his various matches was somewhat complicated by the + arrival of a stream of telegraph-boys bearing important messages. He would + read these between the strokes and dictate replies to me, never, however, + taking more than the five minutes allowed by the rules for an interval + between strokes. I am inclined to think that it was this that put the + finishing touch on his opponents' discomfiture. It is not soothing for a + nervous man to have the game hung up on the green while his adversary + dictates to his caddy a letter beginning "Yours of the 11th inst. received + and contents noted. In reply would state——" This sort of thing + puts a man off his game. + </p> + <p> + I was resting in the lobby of our hotel after a strenuous day's work, when + I found that I was being paged. I answered the summons, and was informed + that a lady wished to see me. Her card bore the name "Miss Amelia + Merridew." Amelia! The name seemed familiar. Then I remembered. Amelia was + the name of the girl Vincent Jopp intended to marry, the fourth of the + long line of Mrs. Jopps. I hurried to present myself, and found a tall, + slim girl, who was plainly labouring under a considerable agitation. + </p> + <p> + "Miss Merridew?" I said. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," she murmured. "My name will be strange to you." + </p> + <p> + "Am I right," I queried, "in supposing that you are the lady to whom Mr. + Jopp——" + </p> + <p> + "I am! I am!" she replied. "And, oh, what shall I do?" + </p> + <p> + "Kindly give me particulars," I said, taking out my pad from force of + habit. + </p> + <p> + She hesitated a moment, as if afraid to speak. + </p> + <p> + "You are caddying for Mr. Jopp in the Final tomorrow?" she said at last. + </p> + <p> + "I am." + </p> + <p> + "Then could you—would you mind—would it be giving you too much + trouble if I asked you to shout 'Boo!' at him when he is making his + stroke, if he looks like winning?" + </p> + <p> + I was perplexed. + </p> + <p> + "I don't understand." + </p> + <p> + "I see that I must tell you all. I am sure you will treat what I say as + absolutely confidential." + </p> + <p> + "Certainly." + </p> + <p> + "I am provisionally engaged to Mr. Jopp." + </p> + <p> + "Provisionally?" + </p> + <p> + She gulped. + </p> + <p> + "Let me tell you my story. Mr. Jopp asked me to marry him, and I would + rather do anything on earth than marry him. But how could I say 'No!' with + those awful eyes of his boring me through? I knew that if I said 'No', he + would argue me out of it in two minutes. I had an idea. I gathered that he + had never played golf, so I told him that I would marry him if he won the + Amateur Championship this year. And now I find that he has been a golfer + all along, and, what is more, a plus man! It isn't fair!" + </p> + <p> + "He was not a golfer when you made that condition," I said. "He took up + the game on the following day." + </p> + <p> + "Impossible! How could he have become as good as he is in this short + time?" + </p> + <p> + "Because he is Vincent Jopp! In his lexicon there is no such word as + impossible." + </p> + <p> + She shuddered. + </p> + <p> + "What a man! But I can't marry him," she cried. "I want to marry somebody + else. Oh, won't you help me? Do shout 'Boo!' at him when he is starting + his down-swing!" + </p> + <p> + I shook my head. + </p> + <p> + "It would take more than a single 'boo' to put Vincent Jopp off his + stroke." + </p> + <p> + "But won't you try it?" + </p> + <p> + "I cannot. My duty is to my employer." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, do!" + </p> + <p> + "No, no. Duty is duty, and paramount with me. Besides, I have a bet on him + to win." + </p> + <p> + The stricken girl uttered a faint moan, and tottered away. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + I was in our suite shortly after dinner that night, going over some of the + notes I had made that day, when the telephone rang. Jopp was out at the + time, taking a short stroll with his after-dinner cigar. I unhooked the + receiver, and a female voice spoke. + </p> + <p> + "Is that Mr. Jopp?" + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Jopp's secretary speaking. Mr. Jopp is out." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, it's nothing important. Will you say that Mrs. Luella Mainprice Jopp + called up to wish him luck? I shall be on the course tomorrow to see him + win the final." + </p> + <p> + I returned to my notes. Soon afterwards the telephone rang again. + </p> + <p> + "Vincent, dear?" + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Jopp's secretary speaking." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, will you say that Mrs. Jane Jukes Jopp called up to wish him luck? I + shall be there tomorrow to see him play." + </p> + <p> + I resumed my work. I had hardly started when the telephone rang for the + third time. + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Jopp?" + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Jopp's secretary speaking." + </p> + <p> + "This is Mrs. Agnes Parsons Jopp. I just called up to wish him luck. I + shall be looking on tomorrow." + </p> + <p> + I shifted my work nearer to the telephone-table so as to be ready for the + next call. I had heard that Vincent Jopp had only been married three + times, but you never knew. + </p> + <p> + Presently Jopp came in. + </p> + <p> + "Anybody called up?" he asked. + </p> + <p> + "Nobody on business. An assortment of your wives were on the wire wishing + you luck. They asked me to say that they will be on the course tomorrow." + </p> + <p> + For a moment it seemed to me that the man's iron repose was shaken. + </p> + <p> + "Luella?" he asked. + </p> + <p> + "She was the first." + </p> + <p> + "Jane?" + </p> + <p> + "And Jane." + </p> + <p> + "And Agnes?" + </p> + <p> + "Agnes," I said, "is right." + </p> + <p> + "H'm!" said Vincent Jopp. And for the first time since I had known him I + thought that he was ill at ease. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The day of the final dawned bright and clear. At least, I was not awake at + the time to see, but I suppose it did; for at nine o'clock, when I came + down to breakfast, the sun was shining brightly. The first eighteen holes + were to be played before lunch, starting at eleven. Until twenty minutes + before the hour Vincent Jopp kept me busy taking dictation, partly on + matters connected with his wheat deal and partly on a signed article + dealing with the Final, entitled "How I Won." At eleven sharp we were out + on the first tee. + </p> + <p> + Jopp's opponent was a nice-looking young man, but obviously nervous. He + giggled in a distraught sort of way as he shook hands with my employer. + </p> + <p> + "Well, may the best man win," he said. + </p> + <p> + "I have arranged to do so," replied Jopp, curtly, and started to address + his ball. + </p> + <p> + There was a large crowd at the tee, and, as Jopp started his down-swing, + from somewhere on the outskirts of this crowd there came suddenly a + musical "Boo!" It rang out in the clear morning air like a bugle. + </p> + <p> + I had been right in my estimate of Vincent Jopp. His forceful stroke never + wavered. The head of his club struck the ball, despatching it a good two + hundred yards down the middle of the fairway. As we left the tee I saw + Amelia Merridew being led away with bowed head by two members of the + Greens Committee. Poor girl! My heart bled for her. And yet, after all, + Fate had been kind in removing her from the scene, even in custody, for + she could hardly have borne to watch the proceedings. Vincent Jopp made + rings round his antagonist. Hole after hole he won in his remorseless, + machine-like way, until when lunch-time came at the end of the eighteenth + he was ten up. All the other holes had been halved. + </p> + <p> + It was after lunch, as we made our way to the first tee, that the + advance-guard of the Mrs. Jopps appeared in the person of Luella Mainprice + Jopp, a kittenish little woman with blond hair and a Pekingese dog. I + remembered reading in the papers that she had divorced my employer for + persistent and aggravated mental cruelty, calling witnesses to bear out + her statement that he had said he did not like her in pink, and that on + two separate occasions had insisted on her dog eating the leg of a chicken + instead of the breast; but Time, the great healer, seemed to have removed + all bitterness, and she greeted him affectionately. + </p> + <p> + "Wassums going to win great big championship against nasty rough strong + man?" she said. + </p> + <p> + "Such," said Vincent Jopp, "is my intention. It was kind of you, Luella, + to trouble to come and watch me. I wonder if you know Mrs. Agnes Parsons + Jopp?" he said, courteously, indicating a kind-looking, motherly woman who + had just come up. "How are you, Agnes?" + </p> + <p> + "If you had asked me that question this morning, Vincent," replied Mrs. + Agnes Parsons Jopp, "I should have been obliged to say that I felt far + from well. I had an odd throbbing feeling in the left elbow, and I am sure + my temperature was above the normal. But this afternoon I am a little + better. How are you, Vincent?" + </p> + <p> + Although she had, as I recalled from the reports of the case, been + compelled some years earlier to request the Court to sever her marital + relations with Vincent Jopp on the ground of calculated and inhuman + brutality, in that he had callously refused, in spite of her pleadings, to + take old Dr. Bennett's Tonic Swamp-Juice three times a day, her voice, as + she spoke, was kind and even anxious. Badly as this man had treated her—and + I remember hearing that several of the jury had been unable to restrain + their tears when she was in the witness-box giving her evidence—there + still seemed to linger some remnants of the old affection. + </p> + <p> + "I am quite well, thank you, Agnes," said Vincent Jopp. + </p> + <p> + "Are you wearing your liver-pad?" + </p> + <p> + A frown flitted across my employer's strong face. + </p> + <p> + "I am not wearing my liver-pad," he replied, brusquely. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Vincent, how rash of you!" + </p> + <p> + He was about to speak, when a sudden exclamation from his rear checked + him. A genial-looking woman in a sports coat was standing there, eyeing + him with a sort of humorous horror. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Jane," he said. + </p> + <p> + I gathered that this was Mrs. Jane Jukes Jopp, the wife who had divorced + him for systematic and ingrowing fiendishness on the ground that he had + repeatedly outraged her feelings by wearing a white waistcoat with a + dinner-jacket. She continued to look at him dumbly, and then uttered a + sort of strangled, hysterical laugh. + </p> + <p> + "Those legs!" she cried. "Those legs!" + </p> + <p> + Vincent Jopp flushed darkly. Even the strongest and most silent of us have + our weaknesses, and my employer's was the rooted idea that he looked well + in knickerbockers. It was not my place to try to dissuade him, but there + was no doubt that they did not suit him. Nature, in bestowing upon him a + massive head and a jutting chin, had forgotten to finish him off at the + other end. Vincent Jopp's legs were skinny. + </p> + <p> + "You poor dear man!" went on Mrs. Jane Jukes Jopp. "What practical joker + ever lured you into appearing in public in knickerbockers?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't object to the knickerbockers," said Mrs. Agnes Parsons Jopp, "but + when he foolishly comes out in quite a strong east wind without his + liver-pad——" + </p> + <p> + "Little Tinky-Ting don't need no liver-pad, he don't," said Mrs. Luella + Mainprice Jopp, addressing the animal in her arms, "because he was his + muzzer's pet, he was." + </p> + <p> + I was standing quite near to Vincent Jopp, and at this moment I saw a bead + of perspiration spring out on his forehead, and into his steely eyes there + came a positively hunted look. I could understand and sympathize. Napoleon + himself would have wilted if he had found himself in the midst of a trio + of females, one talking baby-talk, another fussing about his health, and + the third making derogatory observations on his lower limbs. Vincent Jopp + was becoming unstrung. + </p> + <p> + "May as well be starting, shall we?" + </p> + <p> + It was Jopp's opponent who spoke. There was a strange, set look on his + face—the look of a man whose back is against the wall. Ten down on + the morning's round, he had drawn on his reserves of courage and was + determined to meet the inevitable bravely. + </p> + <p> + Vincent Jopp nodded absently, then turned to me. + </p> + <p> + "Keep those women away from me," he whispered tensely. "They'll put me off + my stroke!" + </p> + <p> + "Put <i>you</i> off your stroke!" I exclaimed, incredulously. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, me! How the deuce can I concentrate, with people babbling about + liver-pads, and—and knickerbockers all round me? Keep them away!" + </p> + <p> + He started to address his ball, and there was a weak uncertainty in the + way he did it that prepared me for what was to come. His club rose, + wavered, fell; and the ball, badly topped, trickled two feet and sank into + a cuppy lie. + </p> + <p> + "Is that good or bad?" inquired Mrs. Luella Mainprice Jopp. + </p> + <p> + A sort of desperate hope gleamed in the eye of the other competitor in the + final. He swung with renewed vigour. His ball sang through the air, and + lay within chip-shot distance of the green. + </p> + <p> + "At the very least," said Mrs. Agnes Parsons Jopp, "I hope, Vincent, that + you are wearing flannel next your skin." + </p> + <p> + I heard Jopp give a stifled groan as he took his spoon from the bag. He + made a gallant effort to retrieve the lost ground, but the ball struck a + stone and bounded away into the long grass to the side of the green. His + opponent won the hole. + </p> + <p> + We moved to the second tee. + </p> + <p> + "Now, that young man," said Mrs. Jane Jukes Jopp, indicating her late + husband's blushing antagonist, "is quite right to wear knickerbockers. He + can carry them off. But a glance in the mirror must have shown you that + you——" + </p> + <p> + "I'm sure you're feverish, Vincent," said Mrs. Agnes Parsons Jopp, + solicitously. "You are quite flushed. There is a wild gleam in your eyes." + </p> + <p> + "Muzzer's pet got little buttons of eyes, that don't never have no wild + gleam in zem because he's muzzer's own darling, he was!" said Mrs. Luella + Mainprice Jopp. + </p> + <p> + A hollow groan escaped Vincent Jopp's ashen lips. + </p> + <p> + I need not recount the play hole by hole, I think. There are some subjects + that are too painful. It was pitiful to watch Vincent Jopp in his + downfall. By the end of the first nine his lead had been reduced to one, + and his antagonist, rendered a new man by success, was playing magnificent + golf. On the next hole he drew level. Then with a superhuman effort Jopp + contrived to halve the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth. It seemed as + though his iron will might still assert itself, but on the fourteenth the + end came. + </p> + <p> + He had driven a superb ball, outdistancing his opponent by a full fifty + yards. The latter played a good second to within a few feet of the green. + And then, as Vincent Jopp was shaping for his stroke, Luella Mainprice + gave tongue. + </p> + <p> + "Vincent!" + </p> + <p> + "Well?" + </p> + <p> + "Vincent, that other man—bad man—not playing fair. When your + back was turned just now, he gave his ball a great bang. <i>I</i> was + watching him." + </p> + <p> + "At any rate," said Mrs. Agnes Parsons Jopp, "I do hope, when the game is + over, Vincent, that you will remember to cool slowly." + </p> + <p> + "Flesho!" cried Mrs. Jane Jukes Jopp triumphantly. "I've been trying to + remember the name all the afternoon. I saw about it in one of the papers. + The advertisements speak most highly of it. You take it before breakfast + and again before retiring, and they guarantee it to produce firm, healthy + flesh on the most sparsely-covered limbs in next to no time. Now, <i>will</i> + you remember to get a bottle tonight? It comes in two sizes, the + five-shilling (or large size) and the smaller at half-a-crown. G. K. + Chesterton writes that he used it regularly for years." + </p> + <p> + Vincent Jopp uttered a quavering moan, and his hand, as he took the mashie + from his bag, was trembling like an aspen. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later, he was on his way back to the club-house, a beaten man. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + And so (concluded the Oldest Member) you see that in golf there is no such + thing as a soft snap. You can never be certain of the finest player. + Anything may happen to the greatest expert at any stage of the game. In a + recent competition George Duncan took eleven shots over a hole which + eighteen-handicap men generally do in five. No! Back horses or go down to + Throgmorton Street and try to take it away from the Rothschilds, and I + will applaud you as a shrewd and cautious financier. But to bet at golf is + pure gambling. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 9 — <i>The Rough Stuff</i> + </h2> + <p> + Into the basking warmth of the day there had crept, with the approach of + evening, that heartening crispness which heralds the advent of autumn. + Already, in the valley by the ninth tee, some of the trees had begun to + try on strange colours, in tentative experiment against the coming of + nature's annual fancy dress ball, when the soberest tree casts off its + workaday suit of green and plunges into a riot of reds and yellows. On the + terrace in front of the club-house an occasional withered leaf fluttered + down on the table where the Oldest Member sat, sipping a thoughtful + seltzer and lemon and listening with courteous gravity to a young man in a + sweater and golf breeches who occupied the neighbouring chair. + </p> + <p> + "She is a dear girl," said the young man a little moodily, "a dear girl in + every respect. But somehow—I don't know—when I see her playing + golf I can't help thinking that woman's place is in the home." + </p> + <p> + The Oldest Member inclined his frosted head. + </p> + <p> + "You think," he said, "that lovely woman loses in queenly dignity when she + fails to slam the ball squarely on the meat?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't mind her missing the pill," said the young man. "But I think her + attitude toward the game is too light-hearted." + </p> + <p> + "Perhaps it cloaks a deeper feeling. One of the noblest women I ever knew + used to laugh merrily when she foozled a short putt. It was only later, + when I learned that in the privacy of her home she would weep bitterly and + bite holes in the sofa cushions, that I realized that she did but wear the + mask. Continue to encourage your <i>fiancee</i> to play the game, my boy. + Much happiness will reward you. I could tell you a story——" + </p> + <p> + A young woman of singular beauty and rather statuesque appearance came out + of the club-house carrying a baby swaddled in flannel. As she drew near + the table she said to the baby: + </p> + <p> + "Chicketty wicketty wicketty wipsey pop!" + </p> + <p> + In other respects her intelligence appeared to be above the ordinary. + </p> + <p> + "Isn't he a darling!" she said, addressing the Oldest Member. + </p> + <p> + The Sage cast a meditative eye upon the infant. Except to the eye of love, + it looked like a skinned poached egg. + </p> + <p> + "Unquestionably so," he replied. + </p> + <p> + "Don't you think he looks more like his father every day?" + </p> + <p> + For a brief instant the Oldest Member seemed to hesitate. + </p> + <p> + "Assuredly!" he said. "Is your husband out on the links today?" + </p> + <p> + "Not today. He had to see Wilberforce off on the train to Scotland." + </p> + <p> + "Your brother is going to Scotland?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes. Ramsden has such a high opinion of the schools up there. I did say + that Scotland was a long way off, and he said yes, that had occurred to + him, but that we must make sacrifices for Willie's good. He was very brave + and cheerful about it. Well, I mustn't stay. There's quite a nip in the + air, and Rammikins will get a nasty cold in his precious little button of + a nose if I don't walk him about. Say 'Bye-bye' to the gentleman, Rammy!" + </p> + <p> + The Oldest Member watched her go thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + "There is a nip in the air," he said, "and, unlike our late acquaintance + in the flannel, I am not in my first youth. Come with me, I want to show + you something." + </p> + <p> + He led the way into the club-house, and paused before the wall of the + smoking-room. This was decorated from top to bottom with bold caricatures + of members of the club. + </p> + <p> + "These," he said, "are the work of a young newspaper artist who belongs + here. A clever fellow. He has caught the expressions of these men + wonderfully. His only failure, indeed, is that picture of myself." He + regarded it with distaste, and a touch of asperity crept into his manner. + "I don't know why the committee lets it stay there," he said, irritably. + "It isn't a bit like." He recovered himself. "But all the others are + excellent, excellent, though I believe many of the subjects are under the + erroneous impression that they bear no resemblance to the originals. Here + is the picture I wished to show you. That is Ramsden Waters, the husband + of the lady who has just left us." + </p> + <p> + The portrait which he indicated was that of a man in the early thirties. + Pale saffron hair surmounted a receding forehead. Pale blue eyes looked + out over a mouth which wore a pale, weak smile, from the centre of which + protruded two teeth of a rabbit-like character. + </p> + <p> + "Golly! What a map!" exclaimed the young man at his side. + </p> + <p> + "Precisely!" said the Oldest Member. "You now understand my momentary + hesitation in agreeing with Mrs. Waters that the baby was like its father. + I was torn by conflicting emotions. On the one hand, politeness demanded + that I confirm any statement made by a lady. Common humanity, on the other + hand, made it repugnant to me to knock an innocent child. Yes, that is + Ramsden Waters. Sit down and take the weight off your feet, and I will + tell you about him. The story illustrates a favourite theory of mine, that + it is an excellent thing that women should be encouraged to take up golf. + There are, I admit, certain drawbacks attendant on their presence on the + links. I shall not readily forget the occasion on which a low, raking + drive of mine at the eleventh struck the ladies' tee box squarely and came + back and stunned my caddie, causing me to lose stroke and distance. + Nevertheless, I hold that the advantages outnumber the drawbacks. Golf + humanizes women, humbles their haughty natures, tends, in short, to knock + out of their systems a certain modicum of that superciliousness, that + swank, which makes wooing a tough proposition for the diffident male. You + may have found this yourself?" + </p> + <p> + "Well, as a matter of fact," admitted the young man, "now I come to think + of it I have noticed that Genevieve has shown me a bit more respect since + she took up the game. When I drive 230 yards after she had taken six + sloshes to cover fifty, I sometimes think that a new light comes into her + eyes." + </p> + <p> + "Exactly," said the Sage. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + From earliest youth (said the Oldest Member) Ramsden Waters had always + been of a shrinking nature. He seemed permanently scared. Possibly his + nurse had frightened him with tales of horror in his babyhood. If so, she + must have been the Edgar Allan Poe of her sex, for, by the time he reached + men's estate, Ramsden Waters had about as much ferocity and self-assertion + as a blanc mange. Even with other men he was noticeably timid, and with + women he comported himself in a manner that roused their immediate scorn + and antagonism. He was one of those men who fall over their feet and start + apologizing for themselves the moment they see a woman. His idea of + conversing with a girl was to perspire and tie himself into knots, making + the while a strange gurgling sound like the language of some primitive + tribe. If ever a remark of any coherence emerged from his tangled vocal + cords it dealt with the weather, and he immediately apologized and + qualified it. To such a man women are merciless, and it speedily became an + article of faith with the feminine population of this locality that + Ramsden Waters was an unfortunate incident and did not belong. Finally, + after struggling for a time to keep up a connection in social circles, he + gave it up and became a sort of hermit. + </p> + <p> + I think that caricature I just showed you weighed rather heavily on the + poor fellow. Just as he was nerving himself to make another attempt to + enter society, he would catch sight of it and say to himself, "What hope + is there for a man with a face like that?" These caricaturists are too + ready to wound people simply in order to raise a laugh. Personally I am + broad-minded enough to smile at that portrait of myself. It has given me + great enjoyment, though why the committee permits it to—But then, of + course, it isn't a bit like, whereas that of Ramsden Waters not only gave + the man's exact appearance, very little exaggerated, but laid bare his + very soul. That portrait is the portrait of a chump, and such Ramsden + Waters undeniably was. + </p> + <p> + By the end of the first year in the neighbourhood, Ramsden, as I say, had + become practically a hermit. He lived all by himself in a house near the + fifteenth green, seeing nobody, going nowhere. His only solace was golf. + His late father had given him an excellent education, and, even as early + as his seventeenth year, I believe, he was going round difficult courses + in par. Yet even this admirable gift, which might have done him social + service, was rendered negligible by the fact that he was too shy and + shrinking to play often with other men. As a rule, he confined himself to + golfing by himself in the mornings and late evenings when the links were + more or less deserted. Yes, in his twenty-ninth year, Ramsden Waters had + sunk to the depth of becoming a secret golfer. + </p> + <p> + One lovely morning in summer, a scented morning of green and blue and + gold, when the birds sang in the trees and the air had that limpid + clearness which makes the first hole look about 100 yards long instead of + 345, Ramsden Waters, alone as ever, stood on the first tee addressing his + ball. For a space he waggled masterfully, then, drawing his club back with + a crisp swish, brought it down. And, as he did so, a voice behind him + cried: + </p> + <p> + "Bing!" + </p> + <p> + Ramsden's driver wabbled at the last moment. The ball flopped weakly among + the trees on the right of the course. Ramsden turned to perceive, standing + close beside him, a small fat boy in a sailor suit. There was a pause. + </p> + <p> + "Rotten!" said the boy austerely. + </p> + <p> + Ramsden gulped. And then suddenly he saw that the boy was not alone. About + a medium approach-putt distance, moving gracefully and languidly towards + him, was a girl of such pronounced beauty that Ramsden Waters's heart + looped the loop twice in rapid succession. It was the first time that he + had seen Eunice Bray, and, like most men who saw her for the first time, + he experienced the sensations of one in an express lift at the tenth floor + going down who has left the majority of his internal organs up on the + twenty-second. He felt a dazed emptiness. The world swam before his eyes. + </p> + <p> + You yourself saw Eunice just now: and, though you are in a sense immune, + being engaged to a charming girl of your own, I noticed that you + unconsciously braced yourself up and tried to look twice as handsome as + nature ever intended you to. You smirked and, if you had a moustache, you + would have twiddled it. You can imagine, then, the effect which this + vision of loveliness had on lonely, diffident Ramsden Waters. It got right + in amongst him. + </p> + <p> + "I'm afraid my little brother spoiled your stroke," said Eunice. She did + not speak at all apologetically, but rather as a goddess might have spoken + to a swineherd. + </p> + <p> + Ramsden yammered noiselessly. As always in the presence of the opposite + sex, and more than ever now, his vocal cords appeared to have tied + themselves in a knot which would have baffled a sailor and might have + perplexed Houdini. He could not even gargle. + </p> + <p> + "He is very fond of watching golf," said the girl. + </p> + <p> + She took the boy by the hand, and was about to lead him off, when Ramsden + miraculously recovered speech. + </p> + <p> + "Would he like to come round with me?" he croaked. How he had managed to + acquire the nerve to make the suggestion he could never understand. I + suppose that in certain supreme moments a sort of desperate recklessness + descends on nervous men. + </p> + <p> + "How very kind of you!" said the girl indifferently. "But I'm afraid——" + </p> + <p> + "I want to go!" shrilled the boy. "I want to go!" + </p> + <p> + Fond as Eunice Bray was of her little brother, I imagine that the prospect + of having him taken off her hands on a fine summer morning, when all + nature urged her to sit in the shade on the terrace and read a book, was + not unwelcome. + </p> + <p> + "It would be very kind of you if you would let him," said Eunice. "He + wasn't able to go to the circus last week, and it was a great + disappointment; this will do instead." + </p> + <p> + She turned toward the terrace, and Ramsden, his head buzzing, tottered + into the jungle to find his ball, followed by the boy. + </p> + <p> + I have never been able to extract full particulars of that morning's round + from Ramsden. If you speak of it to him, he will wince and change the + subject. Yet he seems to have had the presence of mind to pump Wilberforce + as to the details of his home life, and by the end of the round he had + learned that Eunice and her brother had just come to visit an aunt who + lived in the neighbourhood. Their house was not far from the links; Eunice + was not engaged to be married; and the aunt made a hobby of collecting dry + seaweed, which she pressed and pasted in an album. One sometimes thinks + that aunts live entirely for pleasure. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the round Ramsden staggered on to the terrace, tripping over + his feet, and handed Wilberforce back in good condition. Eunice, who had + just reached the chapter where the hero decides to give up all for love, + thanked him perfunctorily without looking up from her book; and so ended + the first spasm of Ramsden Waters's life romance. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + There are few things more tragic than the desire of the moth for the star; + and it is a curious fact that the spectacle of a star almost invariably + fills the most sensible moth with thoughts above his station. No doubt, if + Ramsden Waters had stuck around and waited long enough there might have + come his way in the fullness of time some nice, homely girl with a squint + and a good disposition who would have been about his form. In his modest + day dreams he had aspired to nothing higher. But the sight of Eunice Bray + seemed to have knocked all the sense out of the man. He must have known + that he stood no chance of becoming anything to her other than a handy + means of getting rid of little Wilberforce now and again. Why, the very + instant that Eunice appeared in the place, every eligible bachelor for + miles around her tossed his head with a loud, snorting sound, and galloped + madly in her direction. Dashing young devils they were, handsome, + well-knit fellows with the figures of Greek gods and the faces of movie + heroes. Any one of them could have named his own price from the + advertisers of collars. They were the sort of young men you see standing + grandly beside the full-page picture of the seven-seater Magnifico car in + the magazines. And it was against this field that Ramsden Waters, the man + with the unshuffled face, dared to pit his feeble personality. One weeps. + </p> + <p> + Something of the magnitude of the task he had undertaken must have come + home to Ramsden at a very early point in the proceedings. At Eunice's + home, at the hour when women receive callers, he was from the start a mere + unconsidered unit in the mob scene. While his rivals clustered thickly + about the girl, he was invariably somewhere on the outskirts listening + limply to the aunt. I imagine that seldom has any young man had such + golden opportunities of learning all about dried seaweed. Indeed, by the + end of the month Ramsden Waters could not have known more about seaweed if + he had been a deep sea fish. And yet he was not happy. He was in a + position, if he had been at a dinner party and things had got a bit slow, + to have held the table spellbound with the first hand information about + dried seaweed, straight from the stable; yet nevertheless he chafed. His + soul writhed and sickened within him. He lost weight and went right off + his approach shots. I confess that my heart bled for the man. + </p> + <p> + His only consolation was that nobody else, not even the fellows who worked + their way right through the jam and got seats in the front row where they + could glare into her eyes and hang on her lips and all that sort of thing, + seemed to be making any better progress. + </p> + <p> + And so matters went on till one day Eunice decided to take up golf. Her + motive for doing this was, I believe, simply because Kitty Manders, who + had won a small silver cup at a monthly handicap, receiving thirty-six, + was always dragging the conversation round to this trophy, and if there + was one firm article in Eunice Bray's simple creed it was that she would + be hanged if she let Kitty, who was by way of being a rival on a small + scale, put anything over on her. I do not defend Eunice, but women are + women, and I doubt if any of them really take up golf in that holy, + quest-of-the-grail spirit which animates men. I have known girls to become + golfers as an excuse for wearing pink jumpers, and one at least who did it + because she had read in the beauty hints in the evening paper that it made + you lissome. Girls will be girls. + </p> + <p> + Her first lessons Eunice received from the professional, but after that + she saved money by distributing herself among her hordes of admirers, who + were only too willing to give up good matches to devote themselves to her + tuition. By degrees she acquired a fair skill and a confidence in her game + which was not altogether borne out by results. From Ramsden Waters she did + not demand a lesson. For one thing it never occurred to her that so + poor-spirited a man could be of any use at the game, and for another + Ramsden was always busy tooling round with little Wilberforce. + </p> + <p> + Yet it was with Ramsden that she was paired in the first competition for + which she entered, the annual mixed foursomes. And it was on the same + evening that the list of the draw went up on the notice board that Ramsden + proposed. + </p> + <p> + The mind of a man in love works in strange ways. To you and to me there + would seem to be no reason why the fact that Eunice's name and his own had + been drawn out of a hat together should so impress Ramsden, but he looked + on it as an act of God. It seemed to him to draw them close together, to + set up a sort of spiritual affinity. In a word, it acted on the poor + fellow like a tonic, and that very night he went around to her house, and + having, after a long and extremely interesting conversation with her aunt, + contrived to get her alone, coughed eleven times in a strangled sort of + way, and suggested that the wedding bells should ring out. + </p> + <p> + Eunice was more startled than angry. + </p> + <p> + "Of course, I'm tremendously complimented, Mr.——" She had to + pause to recall the name. "Mr.——" + </p> + <p> + "Waters," said Ramsden, humbly. + </p> + <p> + "Of course, yes. Mr. Waters. As I say, it's a great compliment——" + </p> + <p> + "Not at all!" + </p> + <p> + "A great compliment——" + </p> + <p> + "No, no!" murmured Ramsden obsequiously. + </p> + <p> + "I wish you wouldn't interrupt!" snapped Eunice with irritation. No girl + likes to have to keep going back and trying over her speeches. "It's a + great compliment, but it is quite impossible." + </p> + <p> + "Just as you say, of course," agreed Ramsden. + </p> + <p> + "What," demanded Eunice, "have you to offer me? I don't mean money. I mean + something more spiritual. What is there in you, Mr. Walter——" + </p> + <p> + "Waters." + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Waters. What is there in you that would repay a girl for giving up + the priceless boon of freedom?" + </p> + <p> + "I know a lot about dried seaweed," suggested Ramsden hopefully. + </p> + <p> + Eunice shook her head. + </p> + <p> + "No," she said, "it is quite impossible. You have paid me the greatest + compliment a man can pay a woman, Mr. Waterson——" + </p> + <p> + "Waters," said Ramsden. "I'll write it down for you." + </p> + <p> + "Please don't trouble. I am afraid we shall never meet again——" + </p> + <p> + "But we are partners in the mixed foursomes tomorrow." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, yes, so we are!" said Eunice. "Well, mind you play up. I want to win + a cup more than anything on earth." + </p> + <p> + "Ah!" said Ramsden, "if only I could win what I want to win more than + anything else on earth! You, I mean," he added, to make his meaning clear. + "If I could win you——" His tongue tied itself in a bow knot + round his uvula, and he could say no more. He moved slowly to the door, + paused with his fingers on the handle for one last look over his shoulder, + and walked silently into the cupboard where Eunice's aunt kept her + collection of dried seaweed. + </p> + <p> + His second start was favoured with greater luck, and he found himself out + in the hall, and presently in the cool air of the night, with the stars + shining down on him. Had those silent stars ever shone down on a more + broken-hearted man? Had the cool air of the night ever fanned a more + fevered brow? Ah, yes! Or, rather, ah no! + </p> + <p> + There was not a very large entry for the mixed foursomes competition. In + my experience there seldom is. Men are as a rule idealists, and wish to + keep their illusions regarding women intact, and it is difficult for the + most broad-minded man to preserve a chivalrous veneration for the sex + after a woman has repeatedly sliced into the rough and left him a + difficult recovery. Women, too—I am not speaking of the occasional + champions, but of the average woman, the one with the handicap of 33, who + plays in high-heeled shoes—are apt to giggle when they foozle out of + a perfect lie, and this makes for misogyny. Only eight couples assembled + on the tenth tee (where our foursomes matches start) on the morning after + Ramsden Waters had proposed to Eunice. Six of these were negligible, + consisting of males of average skill and young women who played golf + because it kept them out in the fresh air. Looking over the field, Ramsden + felt that the only serious rivalry was to be feared from Marcella Bingley + and her colleague, a 16-handicap youth named George Perkins, with whom + they were paired for the opening round. George was a pretty indifferent + performer, but Marcella, a weather-beaten female with bobbed hair and the + wrists of a welterweight pugilist, had once appeared in the women's open + championship and swung a nasty iron. + </p> + <p> + Ramsden watched her drive a nice, clean shot down the middle of the + fairway, and spoke earnestly to Eunice. His heart was in this competition, + for, though the first prize in the mixed foursomes does not perhaps + entitle the winners to a place in the hall of fame, Ramsden had the soul + of the true golfer. And the true golfer wants to win whenever he starts, + whether he is playing in a friendly round or in the open championship. + </p> + <p> + "What we've got to do is to play steadily," he said. "Don't try any fancy + shots. Go for safety. Miss Bingley is a tough proposition, but George + Perkins is sure to foozle a few, and if we play safe we've got 'em cold. + The others don't count." + </p> + <p> + You notice something odd about this speech. Something in it strikes you as + curious. Precisely. It affected Eunice Bray in the same fashion. In the + first place, it contains forty-four words, some of them of two syllables, + others of even greater length. In the second place, it was spoken crisply, + almost commandingly, without any of that hesitation and stammering which + usually characterized Ramsden Waters's utterances. Eunice was puzzled. She + was also faintly resentful. True, there was not a word in what he had said + that was calculated to bring the blush of shame to the cheek of modesty; + nevertheless, she felt vaguely that Ramsden Waters had exceeded the + limits. She had been prepared for a gurgling Ramsden Waters, a Ramsden + Waters who fell over his large feet and perspired; but here was a Ramsden + Waters who addressed her not merely as an equal, but with more than a + touch of superiority. She eyed him coldly, but he had turned to speak to + little Wilberforce, who was to accompany them on the round. + </p> + <p> + "And you, my lad," said Ramsden curtly, "you kindly remember that this is + a competition, and keep your merry flow of conversation as much as + possible to yourself. You've got a bad habit of breaking into small talk + when a man's addressing the ball." + </p> + <p> + "If you think that my brother will be in the way——" began + Eunice coldly. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I don't mind him coming round," said Ramsden, "if he keeps quiet." + </p> + <p> + Eunice gasped. She had not played enough golf to understand how that + noblest of games changes a man's whole nature when on the links. She was + thinking of something crushing to say to him, when he advanced to the tee + to drive off. + </p> + <p> + He drove a perfect ball, hard and low with a lot of roll. Even Eunice was + impressed. + </p> + <p> + "Good shot, partner!" she said. + </p> + <p> + Ramsden was apparently unaware that she had spoken. He was gazing down the + fairway with his club over his left shoulder in an attitude almost + identical with that of Sandy McBean in the plate labelled "The Drive—Correct + Finish", to face page twenty-four of his monumental work, "How to Become a + Scratch Player Your First Season by Studying Photographs". Eunice bit her + lip. She was piqued. She felt as if she had patted the head of a pet lamb, + and the lamb had turned and bitten her in the finger. + </p> + <p> + "I said, 'Good shot, partner!'" she repeated coldly. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," said Ramsden, "but don't talk. It prevents one concentrating." He + turned to Wilberforce. "And don't let me have to tell you that again!" he + said. + </p> + <p> + "Wilberforce has been like a mouse!" + </p> + <p> + "That is what I complain of," said Ramsden. "Mice make a beastly + scratching sound, and that's what he was doing when I drove that ball." + </p> + <p> + "He was only playing with the sand in the tee box." + </p> + <p> + "Well, if he does it again, I shall be reluctantly compelled to take + steps." + </p> + <p> + They walked in silence to where the ball had stopped. It was nicely + perched up on the grass, and to have plunked it on to the green with an + iron should have been for any reasonable golfer the work of a moment. + Eunice, however, only succeeded in slicing it feebly into the rough. + </p> + <p> + Ramsden reached for his niblick and plunged into the bushes. And, + presently, as if it had been shot up by some convulsion of nature, the + ball, accompanied on the early stages of its journey by about a pound of + mixed mud, grass, and pebbles, soared through the air and fell on the + green. But the mischief had been done. Miss Bingley, putting forcefully, + put the opposition ball down for a four and won the hole. + </p> + <p> + Eunice now began to play better, and, as Ramsden was on the top of his + game, a ding-dong race ensued for the remainder of the first nine holes. + The Bingley-Perkins combination, owing to some inspired work by the female + of the species, managed to keep their lead up to the tricky ravine hole, + but there George Perkins, as might have been expected of him, deposited + the ball right in among the rocks, and Ramsden and Eunice drew level. The + next four holes were halved and they reached the club-house with no + advantage to either side. Here there was a pause while Miss Bingley went + to the professional's shop to have a tack put into the leather of her + mashie, which had worked loose. George Perkins and little Wilberforce, who + believed in keeping up their strength, melted silently away in the + direction of the refreshment bar, and Ramsden and Eunice were alone. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The pique which Eunice had felt at the beginning of the game had vanished + by now. She was feeling extremely pleased with her performance on the last + few holes, and would have been glad to go into the matter fully. Also, she + was conscious of a feeling not perhaps of respect so much as condescending + tolerance towards Ramsden. He might be a pretty minus quantity in a + drawing-room or at a dance, but in a bunker or out in the open with a + cleek, Eunice felt, you'd be surprised. She was just about to address him + in a spirit of kindliness, when he spoke. + </p> + <p> + "Better keep your brassey in the bag on the next nine," he said. "Stick to + the iron. The great thing is to keep 'em straight!" + </p> + <p> + Eunice gasped. Indeed, had she been of a less remarkable beauty one would + have said that she snorted. The sky turned black, and all her amiability + was swept away in a flood of fury. The blood left her face and surged back + in a rush of crimson. You are engaged to be married and I take it that + there exists between you and your <i>fiancee</i> the utmost love and trust + and understanding; but would you have the nerve, could you summon up the + cold, callous gall to tell your Genevieve that she wasn't capable of using + her wooden clubs? I think not. Yet this was what Ramsden Waters had told + Eunice, and the delicately nurtured girl staggered before the coarse + insult. Her refined, sensitive nature was all churned up. + </p> + <p> + Ever since she had made her first drive at golf, she had prided herself on + her use of the wood. Her brother and her brassey were the only things she + loved. And here was this man deliberately.... Eunice choked. + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Waters!" + </p> + <p> + Before they could have further speech George Perkins and little + Wilberforce ambled in a bloated way out of the clubhouse. + </p> + <p> + "I've had three ginger ales," observed the boy. "Where do we go from + here?" + </p> + <p> + "Our honour," said Ramsden. "Shoot!" + </p> + <p> + Eunice took out her driver without a word. Her little figure was tense + with emotion. She swung vigorously, and pulled the ball far out on to the + fairway of the ninth hole. + </p> + <p> + "Even off the tee," said Ramsden, "you had better use an iron. You must + keep 'em straight." + </p> + <p> + Their eyes met. Hers were glittering with the fury of a woman scorned. His + were cold and hard. And, suddenly, as she looked at his awful, pale, set + golf face, something seemed to snap in Eunice. A strange sensation of + weakness and humility swept over her. So might the cave woman have felt + when, with her back against a cliff and unable to dodge, she watched her + suitor take his club in the interlocking grip, and, after a preliminary + waggle, start his back swing. + </p> + <p> + The fact was that, all her life, Eunice had been accustomed to the homage + of men. From the time she had put her hair up every man she had met had + grovelled before her, and she had acquired a mental attitude toward the + other sex which was a blend of indifference and contempt. For the cringing + specimens who curled up and died all over the hearthrug if she spoke a + cold word to them she had nothing but scorn. She dreamed wistfully of + those brusque cavemen of whom she read in the novels which she took out of + the village circulating library. The female novelist who was at that time + her favourite always supplied with each chunk of wholesome and + invigorating fiction one beetle-browed hero with a grouch and a scowl, who + rode wild horses over the countryside till they foamed at the mouth, and + treated women like dirt. That, Eunice had thought yearningly, as she + talked to youths whose spines turned to gelatine at one glance from her + bright eyes, was the sort of man she wanted to meet and never seemed to + come across. + </p> + <p> + Of all the men whose acquaintance she had made recently she had despised + Ramsden Waters most. Where others had grovelled he had tied himself into + knots. Where others had gazed at her like sheep he had goggled at her like + a kicked spaniel. She had only permitted him to hang round because he + seemed so fond of little Wilberforce. And here he was, ordering her about + and piercing her with gimlet eyes, for all the world as if he were Claude + Delamere, in the thirty-second chapter of "The Man of Chilled Steel", the + one where Claude drags Lady Matilda around the smoking-room by her hair + because she gave the rose from her bouquet to the Italian count. + </p> + <p> + She was half-cowed, half-resentful. + </p> + <p> + "Mr Winklethorpe told me I was very good with the wooden clubs," she said + defiantly. + </p> + <p> + "He's a great kidder," said Ramsden. + </p> + <p> + He went down the hill to where his ball lay. Eunice proceeded direct for + the green. Much as she told herself that she hated this man, she never + questioned his ability to get there with his next shot. + </p> + <p> + George Perkins, who had long since forfeited any confidence which his + partner might have reposed in him, had topped his drive, leaving Miss + Bingley a difficult second out of a sandy ditch. The hole was halved. + </p> + <p> + The match went on. Ramsden won the short hole, laying his ball dead with a + perfect iron shot, but at the next, the long dog-leg hole, Miss Bingley + regained the honour. They came to the last all square. + </p> + <p> + As the match had started on the tenth tee, the last hole to be negotiated + was, of course, what in the ordinary run of human affairs is the ninth, + possibly the trickiest on the course. As you know, it is necessary to + carry with one's initial wallop that combination of stream and lake into + which so many well meant drives have flopped. This done, the player + proceeds up the face of a steep slope, to find himself ultimately on a + green which looks like the sea in the storm scene of a melodrama. It + heaves and undulates, and is altogether a nasty thing to have happen to + one at the end of a gruelling match. But it is the first shot, the drive, + which is the real test, for the water and the trees form a mental hazard + of unquestionable toughness. + </p> + <p> + George Perkins, as he addressed his ball for the vital stroke, manifestly + wabbled. He was scared to the depths of his craven soul. He tried to pray, + but all he could remember was the hymn for those in peril on the deep, + into which category, he feared, his ball would shortly fall. Breathing a + few bars of this, he swung. There was a musical click, and the ball, + singing over the water like a bird, breasted the hill like a homing + aeroplane and fell in the centre of the fairway within easy distance of + the plateau green. + </p> + <p> + "Nice work, partner," said Miss Bingley, speaking for the first and last + time in the course of the proceedings. + </p> + <p> + George unravelled himself with a modest simper. He felt like a gambler who + has placed his all on a number at roulette and sees the white ball tumble + into the correct compartment. + </p> + <p> + Eunice moved to the tee. In the course of the last eight holes the girl's + haughty soul had been rudely harrowed. She had foozled two drives and + three approach shots and had missed a short putt on the last green but + three. She had that consciousness of sin which afflicts the golfer off his + game, that curious self-loathing which humbles the proudest. Her knees + felt weak and all nature seemed to bellow at her that this was where she + was going to blow up with a loud report. + </p> + <p> + Even as her driver rose above her shoulder she was acutely aware that she + was making eighteen out of the twenty-three errors which complicate the + drive at golf. She knew that her head had swayed like some beautiful + flower in a stiff breeze. The heel of her left foot was pointing down the + course. Her grip had shifted, and her wrists felt like sticks of boiled + asparagus. As the club began to descend she perceived that she had + underestimated the total of her errors. And when the ball, badly topped, + bounded down the slope and entered the muddy water like a timid diver on a + cold morning she realized that she had a full hand. There are twenty-three + things which it is possible to do wrong in the drive, and she had done + them all. + </p> + <p> + Silently Ramsden Waters made a tee and placed thereon a new ball. He was a + golfer who rarely despaired, but he was playing three, and his opponents' + ball would undoubtedly be on the green, possibly even dead, in two. + Nevertheless, perhaps, by a supreme drive, and one or two miracles later + on, the game might be saved. He concentrated his whole soul on the ball. + </p> + <p> + I need scarcely tell you that Ramsden Waters pressed.... + </p> + <p> + Swish came the driver. The ball, fanned by the wind, rocked a little on + the tee, then settled down in its original position. Ramsden Waters, + usually the most careful of players, had missed the globe. + </p> + <p> + For a moment there was a silence—a silence which Ramsden had to + strive with an effort almost physically painful not to break. Rich oaths + surged to his lips, and blistering maledictions crashed against the back + of his clenched teeth. + </p> + <p> + The silence was broken by little Wilberforce. + </p> + <p> + One can only gather that there lurks in the supposedly innocuous amber of + ginger ale an elevating something which the temperance reformers have + overlooked. Wilberforce Bray had, if you remember, tucked away no fewer + than three in the spot where they would do most good. One presumes that + the child, with all that stuff surging about inside him, had become + thoroughly above himself. He uttered a merry laugh. + </p> + <p> + "Never hit it!" said little Wilberforce. + </p> + <p> + He was kneeling beside the tee box as he spoke, and now, as one who has + seen all that there is to be seen and turns, sated, to other amusements, + he moved round and began to play with the sand. The spectacle of his + alluring trouser seat was one which a stronger man would have found it + hard to resist. To Ramsden Waters it had the aspect of a formal + invitation. For one moment his number II golf shoe, as supplied to all the + leading professionals, wavered in mid-air, then crashed home. + </p> + <p> + Eunice screamed. + </p> + <p> + "How dare you kick my brother!" + </p> + <p> + Ramsden faced her, stern and pale. + </p> + <p> + "Madam," he said, "in similar circumstances I would have kicked the + Archangel Gabriel!" + </p> + <p> + Then, stooping to his ball, he picked it up. + </p> + <p> + "The match is yours," he said to Miss Bingley, who, having paid no + attention at all to the drama which had just concluded, was practising + short chip shots with her mashie-niblick. + </p> + <p> + He bowed coldly to Eunice, cast one look of sombre satisfaction at little + Wilberforce, who was painfully extricating himself from a bed of nettles + into which he had rolled, and strode off. He crossed the bridge over the + water and stalked up the hill. + </p> + <p> + Eunice watched him go, spellbound. Her momentary spurt of wrath at the + kicking of her brother had died away, and she wished she had thought of + doing it herself. + </p> + <p> + How splendid he looked, she felt, as she watched Ramsden striding up to + the club-house—just like Carruthers Mordyke after he had flung + Ermyntrude Vanstone from him in chapter forty-one of "Gray Eyes That + Gleam". Her whole soul went out to him. This was the sort of man she + wanted as a partner in life. How grandly he would teach her to play golf. + It had sickened her when her former instructors, prefacing their criticism + with glutinous praise, had mildly suggested that some people found it a + good thing to keep the head still when driving and that though her methods + were splendid it might be worth trying. They had spoken of her keeping her + eye on the ball as if she were doing the ball a favour. What she wanted + was a great, strong, rough brute of a fellow who would tell her not to + move her damned head; a rugged Viking of a chap who, if she did not keep + her eye on the ball, would black it for her. And Ramsden Waters was such a + one. He might not look like a Viking, but after all it is the soul that + counts and, as this afternoon's experience had taught her, Ramsden Waters + had a soul that seemed to combine in equal proportions the outstanding + characteristics of Nero, a wildcat, and the second mate of a tramp + steamer. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + That night Ramsden Walters sat in his study, a prey to the gloomiest + emotions. The gold had died out of him by now, and he was reproaching + himself bitterly for having ruined for ever his chance of winning the only + girl he had ever loved. How could she forgive him for his brutality? How + could she overlook treatment which would have caused comment in the + stokehold of a cattle ship? He groaned and tried to forget his sorrows by + forcing himself to read. + </p> + <p> + But the choicest thoughts of the greatest writers had no power to grip + him. He tried Vardon "On the Swing", and the words swam before his eyes. + He turned to Taylor "On the Chip Shot", and the master's pure style seemed + laboured and involved. He found solace neither in Braid "On the Pivot" nor + in Duncan "On the Divot". He was just about to give it up and go to bed + though it was only nine o'clock, when the telephone bell rang. + </p> + <p> + "Hello!" + </p> + <p> + "Is that you, Mr. Waters? This is Eunice Bray." The receiver shook in + Ramsden's hand. "I've just remembered. Weren't we talking about something + last night? Didn't you ask me to marry you or something? I know it was + something." + </p> + <p> + Ramsden gulped three times. + </p> + <p> + "I did," he replied hollowly. + </p> + <p> + "We didn't settle anything, did we?" + </p> + <p> + "Eh?" + </p> + <p> + "I say, we sort of left it kind of open." + </p> + <p> + "Yuk!" + </p> + <p> + "Well, would it bore you awfully," said Eunice's soft voice, "to come + round now and go on talking it over?" + </p> + <p> + Ramsden tottered. + </p> + <p> + "We shall be quite alone," said Eunice. "Little Wilberforce has gone to + bed with a headache." + </p> + <p> + Ramsden paused a moment to disentangle his tongue from the back of his + neck. + </p> + <p> + "I'll be right over!" he said huskily. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 10 — <i>The Coming of Gowf</i> + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PROL" id="link2H_PROL"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PROLOGUE + </h2> + <p> + After we had sent in our card and waited for a few hours in the marbled + ante-room, a bell rang and the major-domo, parting the priceless curtains, + ushered us in to where the editor sat writing at his desk. We advanced on + all fours, knocking our head reverently on the Aubusson carpet. + </p> + <p> + "Well?" he said at length, laying down his jewelled pen. + </p> + <p> + "We just looked in," we said, humbly, "to ask if it would be all right if + we sent you an historical story." + </p> + <p> + "The public does not want historical stories," he said, frowning coldly. + </p> + <p> + "Ah, but the public hasn't seen one of ours!" we replied. + </p> + <p> + The editor placed a cigarette in a holder presented to him by a reigning + monarch, and lit it with a match from a golden box, the gift of the + millionaire president of the Amalgamated League of Working Plumbers. + </p> + <p> + "What this magazine requires," he said, "is red-blooded, + one-hundred-per-cent dynamic stuff, palpitating with warm human interest + and containing a strong, poignant love-motive." + </p> + <p> + "That," we replied, "is us all over, Mabel." + </p> + <p> + "What I need at the moment, however, is a golf story." + </p> + <p> + "By a singular coincidence, ours is a golf story." + </p> + <p> + "Ha! say you so?" said the editor, a flicker of interest passing over his + finely-chiselled features. "Then you may let me see it." + </p> + <p> + He kicked us in the face, and we withdrew. + </p> + <h3> + THE STORY + </h3> + <p> + On the broad terrace outside his palace, overlooking the fair expanse of + the Royal gardens, King Merolchazzar of Oom stood leaning on the low + parapet, his chin in his hand and a frown on his noble face. The day was + fine, and a light breeze bore up to him from the garden below a fragrant + scent of flowers. But, for all the pleasure it seemed to give him, it + might have been bone-fertilizer. + </p> + <p> + The fact is, King Merolchazzar was in love, and his suit was not + prospering. Enough to upset any man. + </p> + <p> + Royal love affairs in those days were conducted on the correspondence + system. A monarch, hearing good reports of a neighbouring princess, would + despatch messengers with gifts to her Court, beseeching an interview. The + Princess would name a date, and a formal meeting would take place; after + which everything usually buzzed along pretty smoothly. But in the case of + King Merolchazzar's courtship of the Princess of the Outer Isles there had + been a regrettable hitch. She had acknowledged the gifts, saying that they + were just what she had wanted and how had he guessed, and had added that, + as regarded a meeting, she would let him know later. Since that day no + word had come from her, and a gloomy spirit prevailed in the capital. At + the Courtiers' Club, the meeting-place of the aristocracy of Oom, five to + one in <i>pazazas</i> was freely offered against Merolchazzar's chances, + but found no takers; while in the taverns of the common people, where less + conservative odds were always to be had, you could get a snappy hundred to + eight. "For in good sooth," writes a chronicler of the time on a + half-brick and a couple of paving-stones which have survived to this day, + "it did indeed begin to appear as though our beloved monarch, the son of + the sun and the nephew of the moon, had been handed the bitter fruit of + the citron." + </p> + <p> + The quaint old idiom is almost untranslatable, but one sees what he means. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + As the King stood sombrely surveying the garden, his attention was + attracted by a small, bearded man with bushy eyebrows and a face like a + walnut, who stood not far away on a gravelled path flanked by rose bushes. + For some minutes he eyed this man in silence, then he called to the Grand + Vizier, who was standing in the little group of courtiers and officials at + the other end of the terrace. The bearded man, apparently unconscious of + the Royal scrutiny, had placed a rounded stone on the gravel, and was + standing beside it making curious passes over it with his hoe. It was this + singular behaviour that had attracted the King's attention. Superficially + it seemed silly, and yet Merolchazzar had a curious feeling that there was + a deep, even a holy, meaning behind the action. + </p> + <p> + "Who," he inquired, "is that?" + </p> + <p> + "He is one of your Majesty's gardeners," replied the Vizier. + </p> + <p> + "I don't remember seeing him before. Who is he?" + </p> + <p> + The Vizier was a kind-hearted man, and he hesitated for a moment. + </p> + <p> + "It seems a hard thing to say of anyone, your Majesty," he replied, "but + he is a Scotsman. One of your Majesty's invincible admirals recently made + a raid on the inhospitable coast of that country at a spot known to the + natives as S'nandrews and brought away this man." + </p> + <p> + "What does he think he's doing?" asked the King, as the bearded one slowly + raised the hoe above his right shoulder, slightly bending the left knee as + he did so. + </p> + <p> + "It is some species of savage religious ceremony, your Majesty. According + to the admiral, the dunes by the seashore where he landed were covered + with a multitude of men behaving just as this man is doing. They had + sticks in their hands and they struck with these at small round objects. + And every now and again——" + </p> + <p> + "Fo-o-ore!" called a gruff voice from below. + </p> + <p> + "And every now and again," went on the Vizier, "they would utter the + strange melancholy cry which you have just heard. It is a species of + chant." + </p> + <p> + The Vizier broke off. The hoe had descended on the stone, and the stone, + rising in a graceful arc, had sailed through the air and fallen within a + foot of where the King stood. + </p> + <p> + "Hi!" exclaimed the Vizier. + </p> + <p> + The man looked up. + </p> + <p> + "You mustn't do that! You nearly hit his serene graciousness the King!" + </p> + <p> + "Mphm!" said the bearded man, nonchalantly, and began to wave his hoe + mystically over another stone. + </p> + <p> + Into the King's careworn face there had crept a look of interest, almost + of excitement. + </p> + <p> + "What god does he hope to propitiate by these rites?" he asked. + </p> + <p> + "The deity, I learn from your Majesty's admiral is called Gowf." + </p> + <p> + "Gowf? Gowf?" King Merolchazzar ran over in his mind the muster-roll of + the gods of Oom. There were sixty-seven of them, but Gowf was not of their + number. "It is a strange religion," he murmured. "A strange religion, + indeed. But, by Belus, distinctly attractive. I have an idea that Oom + could do with a religion like that. It has a zip to it. A sort of + fascination, if you know what I mean. It looks to me extraordinarily like + what the Court physician ordered. I will talk to this fellow and learn + more of these holy ceremonies." + </p> + <p> + And, followed by the Vizier, the King made his way into the garden. The + Vizier was now in a state of some apprehension. He was exercised in his + mind as to the effect which the embracing of a new religion by the King + might have on the formidable Church party. It would be certain to cause + displeasure among the priesthood; and in those days it was a ticklish + business to offend the priesthood, even for a monarch. And, if + Merolchazzar had a fault, it was a tendency to be a little tactless in his + dealings with that powerful body. Only a few mornings back the High Priest + of Hec had taken the Vizier aside to complain about the quality of the + meat which the King had been using lately for his sacrifices. He might be + a child in worldly matters, said the High Priest, but if the King supposed + that he did not know the difference between home-grown domestic and frozen + imported foreign, it was time his Majesty was disabused of the idea. If, + on top of this little unpleasantness, King Merolchazzar were to become an + adherent of this new Gowf, the Vizier did not know what might not happen. + </p> + <p> + The King stood beside the bearded foreigner, watching him closely. The + second stone soared neatly on to the terrace. Merolchazzar uttered an + excited cry. His eyes were glowing, and he breathed quickly. + </p> + <p> + "It doesn't look difficult," he muttered. + </p> + <p> + "Hoo's!" said the bearded man. + </p> + <p> + "I believe I could do it," went on the King, feverishly. "By the eight + green gods of the mountain, I believe I could! By the holy fire that burns + night and day before the altar of Belus, I'm <i>sure</i> I could! By Hec, + I'm going to do it now! Gimme that hoe!" + </p> + <p> + "Toots!" said the bearded man. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to the King that the fellow spoke derisively, and his blood + boiled angrily. He seized the hoe and raised it above his shoulder, + bracing himself solidly on widely-parted feet. His pose was an exact + reproduction of the one in which the Court sculptor had depicted him when + working on the life-size statue ("Our Athletic King") which stood in the + principal square of the city; but it did not impress the stranger. He + uttered a discordant laugh. + </p> + <p> + "Ye puir gonuph!" he cried, "whitkin' o' a staunce is that?" + </p> + <p> + The King was hurt. Hitherto the attitude had been generally admired. + </p> + <p> + "It's the way I always stand when killing lions," he said. "'In killing + lions,'" he added, quoting from the well-known treatise of Nimrod, the + recognized text-book on the sport, "'the weight at the top of the swing + should be evenly balanced on both feet.'" + </p> + <p> + "Ah, weel, ye're no killing lions the noo. Ye're gowfing." + </p> + <p> + A sudden humility descended upon the King. He felt, as so many men were to + feel in similar circumstances in ages to come, as though he were a child + looking eagerly for guidance to an all-wise master—a child, + moreover, handicapped by water on the brain, feet three sizes too large + for him, and hands consisting mainly of thumbs. + </p> + <p> + "O thou of noble ancestors and agreeable disposition!" he said, humbly. + "Teach me the true way." + </p> + <p> + "Use the interlocking grup and keep the staunce a wee bit open and slow + back, and dinna press or sway the heid and keep yer e'e on the ba'." + </p> + <p> + "My which on the what?" said the King, bewildered. + </p> + <p> + "I fancy, your Majesty," hazarded the Vizier, "that he is respectfully + suggesting that your serene graciousness should deign to keep your eye on + the ball." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, ah!" said the King. + </p> + <p> + The first golf lesson ever seen in the kingdom of Oom had begun. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Up on the terrace, meanwhile, in the little group of courtiers and + officials, a whispered consultation was in progress. Officially, the + King's unfortunate love affair was supposed to be a strict secret. But you + know how it is. These things get about. The Grand Vizier tells the Lord + High Chamberlain; the Lord High Chamberlain whispers it in confidence to + the Supreme Hereditary Custodian of the Royal Pet Dog; the Supreme + Hereditary Custodian hands it on to the Exalted Overseer of the King's + Wardrobe on the understanding that it is to go no farther; and, before you + know where you are, the varlets and scurvy knaves are gossiping about it + in the kitchens, and the Society journalists have started to carve it out + on bricks for the next issue of <i>Palace Prattlings</i>. + </p> + <p> + "The long and short of it is," said the Exalted Overseer of the King's + Wardrobe, "we must cheer him up." + </p> + <p> + There was a murmur of approval. In those days of easy executions it was no + light matter that a monarch should be a prey to gloom. + </p> + <p> + "But how?" queried the Lord High Chamberlain. + </p> + <p> + "I know," said the Supreme Hereditary Custodian of the Royal Pet Dog. "Try + him with the minstrels." + </p> + <p> + "Here! Why us?" protested the leader of the minstrels. + </p> + <p> + "Don't be silly!" said the Lord High Chamberlain. "It's for your good just + as much as ours. He was asking only last night why he never got any music + nowadays. He told me to find out whether you supposed he paid you simply + to eat and sleep, because if so he knew what to do about it." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, in that case!" The leader of the minstrels started nervously. + Collecting his assistants and tip-toeing down the garden, he took up his + stand a few feet in Merolchazzar's rear, just as that much-enduring + monarch, after twenty-five futile attempts, was once more addressing his + stone. + </p> + <p> + Lyric writers in those days had not reached the supreme pitch of + excellence which has been produced by modern musical comedy. The art was + in its infancy then, and the best the minstrels could do was this—and + they did it just as Merolchazzar, raising the hoe with painful care, + reached the top of his swing and started down: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>"Oh, tune the string and let us sing + Our godlike, great, and glorious King! + He's a bear! He's a bear! He's a bear!"</i> +</pre> + <p> + There were sixteen more verses, touching on their ruler's prowess in the + realms of sport and war, but they were not destined to be sung on that + circuit. King Merolchazzar jumped like a stung bullock, lifted his head, + and missed the globe for the twenty-sixth time. He spun round on the + minstrels, who were working pluckily through their song of praise: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>"Oh, may his triumphs never cease! + He has the strength of ten! + First in war, first in peace, + First in the hearts of his countrymen."</i> +</pre> + <p> + "Get out!" roared the King. + </p> + <p> + "Your Majesty?" quavered the leader of the minstrels. + </p> + <p> + "Make a noise like an egg and beat it!" (Again one finds the chronicler's + idiom impossible to reproduce in modern speech, and must be content with a + literal translation.) "By the bones of my ancestors, it's a little hard! + By the beard of the sacred goat, it's tough! What in the name of Belus and + Hec do you mean, you yowling misfits, by starting that sort of stuff when + a man's swinging? I was just shaping to hit it right that time when you + butted in, you——" + </p> + <p> + The minstrels melted away. The bearded man patted the fermenting monarch + paternally on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + "Ma mannie," he said, "ye may no' be a gowfer yet, but hoots! ye're + learning the language fine!" + </p> + <p> + King Merolchazzar's fury died away. He simpered modestly at these words of + commendation, the first his bearded preceptor had uttered. With exemplary + patience he turned to address the stone for the twenty-seventh time. + </p> + <p> + That night it was all over the city that the King had gone crazy over a + new religion, and the orthodox shook their heads. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + We of the present day, living in the midst of a million marvels of a + complex civilization, have learned to adjust ourselves to conditions and + to take for granted phenomena which in an earlier and less advanced age + would have caused the profoundest excitement and even alarm. We accept + without comment the telephone, the automobile, and the wireless telegraph, + and we are unmoved by the spectacle of our fellow human beings in the grip + of the first stages of golf fever. Far otherwise was it with the courtiers + and officials about the Palace of Oom. The obsession of the King was the + sole topic of conversation. + </p> + <p> + Every day now, starting forth at dawn and returning only with the falling + of darkness, Merolchazzar was out on the Linx, as the outdoor temple of + the new god was called. In a luxurious house adjoining this expanse the + bearded Scotsman had been installed, and there he could be found at almost + any hour of the day fashioning out of holy wood the weird implements + indispensable to the new religion. As a recognition of his services, the + King had bestowed upon him a large pension, innumerable <i>kaddiz</i> or + slaves, and the title of Promoter of the King's Happiness, which for the + sake of convenience was generally shortened to The Pro. + </p> + <p> + At present, Oom being a conservative country, the worship of the new god + had not attracted the public in great numbers. In fact, except for the + Grand Vizier, who, always a faithful follower of his sovereign's fortunes, + had taken to Gowf from the start, the courtiers held aloof to a man. But + the Vizier had thrown himself into the new worship with such vigour and + earnestness that it was not long before he won from the King the title of + Supreme Splendiferous Maintainer of the Twenty-Four Handicap Except on + Windy Days when It Goes Up to Thirty—a title which in ordinary + conversation was usually abbreviated to The Dub. + </p> + <p> + All these new titles, it should be said, were, so far as the courtiers + were concerned, a fruitful source of discontent. There were black looks + and mutinous whispers. The laws of precedence were being disturbed, and + the courtiers did not like it. It jars a man who for years has had his + social position all cut and dried—a man, to take an instance at + random, who, as Second Deputy Shiner of the Royal Hunting Boots, knows + that his place is just below the Keeper of the Eel-Hounds and just above + the Second Tenor of the Corps of Minstrels—it jars him, we say, to + find suddenly that he has got to go down a step in favour of the + Hereditary Bearer of the King's Baffy. + </p> + <p> + But it was from the priesthood that the real, serious opposition was to be + expected. And the priests of the sixty-seven gods of Oom were up in arms. + As the white-bearded High Priest of Hec, who by virtue of his office was + generally regarded as leader of the guild, remarked in a glowing speech at + an extraordinary meeting of the Priests' Equity Association, he had always + set his face against the principle of the Closed Shop hitherto, but there + were moments when every thinking man had to admit that enough was + sufficient, and it was his opinion that such a moment had now arrived. The + cheers which greeted the words showed how correctly he had voiced popular + sentiment. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Of all those who had listened to the High Priest's speech, none had + listened more intently than the King's half-brother, Ascobaruch. A + sinister, disappointed man, this Ascobaruch, with mean eyes and a crafty + smile. All his life he had been consumed with ambition, and until now it + had looked as though he must go to his grave with this ambition + unfulfilled. All his life he had wanted to be King of Oom, and now he + began to see daylight. He was sufficiently versed in Court intrigues to be + aware that the priests were the party that really counted, the source from + which all successful revolutions sprang. And of all the priests the one + that mattered most was the venerable High Priest of Hec. + </p> + <p> + It was to this prelate, therefore, that Ascobaruch made his way at the + close of the proceedings. The meeting had dispersed after passing a + unanimous vote of censure on King Merolchazzar, and the High Priest was + refreshing himself in the vestry—for the meeting had taken place in + the Temple of Hec—with a small milk and honey. + </p> + <p> + "Some speech!" began Ascobaruch in his unpleasant, crafty way. None knew + better than he the art of appealing to human vanity. + </p> + <p> + The High Priest was plainly gratified. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I don't know," he said, modestly. + </p> + <p> + "Yessir!" said Ascobaruch. "Considerable oration! What I can never + understand is how you think up all these things to say. I couldn't do it + if you paid me. The other night I had to propose the Visitors at the Old + Alumni dinner of Oom University, and my mind seemed to go all blank. But + you just stand up and the words come fluttering out of you like bees out + of a barn. I simply cannot understand it. The thing gets past me." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, it's just a knack." + </p> + <p> + "A divine gift, I should call it." + </p> + <p> + "Perhaps you're right," said the High Priest, finishing his milk and + honey. He was wondering why he had never realized before what a capital + fellow Ascobaruch was. + </p> + <p> + "Of course," went on Ascobaruch, "you had an excellent subject. I mean to + say, inspiring and all that. Why, by Hec, even I—though, of course, + I couldn't have approached your level—even I could have done + something with a subject like that. I mean, going off and worshipping a + new god no one has ever heard of. I tell you, my blood fairly boiled. + Nobody has a greater respect and esteem for Merolchazzar than I have, but + I mean to say, what! Not right, I mean, going off worshipping gods no one + has ever heard of! I'm a peaceable man, and I've made it a rule never to + mix in politics, but if you happened to say to me as we were sitting here, + just as one reasonable man to another—if you happened to say, + 'Ascobaruch, I think it's time that definite steps were taken,' I should + reply frankly, 'My dear old High Priest, I absolutely agree with you, and + I'm with you all the way.' You might even go so far as to suggest that the + only way out of the muddle was to assassinate Merolchazzar and start with + a clean slate." + </p> + <p> + The High Priest stroked his beard thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + "I am bound to say I never thought of going quite so far as that." + </p> + <p> + "Merely a suggestion, of course," said Ascobaruch. "Take it or leave it. I + shan't be offended. If you know a superior excavation, go to it. But as a + sensible man—and I've always maintained that you are the most + sensible man in the country—you must see that it would be a + solution. Merolchazzar has been a pretty good king, of course. No one + denies that. A fair general, no doubt, and a plus-man at lion-hunting. + But, after all—look at it fairly—is life all battles and + lion-hunting? Isn't there a deeper side? Wouldn't it be better for the + country to have some good orthodox fellow who has worshipped Hec all his + life, and could be relied on to maintain the old beliefs—wouldn't + the fact that a man like that was on the throne be likely to lead to more + general prosperity? There are dozens of men of that kind simply waiting to + be asked. Let us say, purely for purposes of argument, that you approached + <i>me</i>. I should reply, 'Unworthy though I know myself to be of such an + honour, I can tell you this. If you put me on the throne, you can bet your + bottom <i>pazaza</i> that there's one thing that won't suffer, and that is + the worship of Hec!' That's the way I feel about it." + </p> + <p> + The High Priest pondered. + </p> + <p> + "O thou of unshuffled features but amiable disposition!" he said, "thy + discourse soundeth good to me. Could it be done?" + </p> + <p> + "Could it!" Ascobaruch uttered a hideous laugh. "Could it! Arouse me in + the night-watches and ask me! Question me on the matter, having stopped me + for that purpose on the public highway! What I would suggest—I'm not + dictating, mind you; merely trying to help you out—what I would + suggest is that you took that long, sharp knife of yours, the one you use + for the sacrifices, and toddled out to the Linx—you're sure to find + the King there; and just when he's raising that sacrilegious stick of his + over his shoulder——" + </p> + <p> + "O man of infinite wisdom," cried the High Priest, warmly, "verily hast + them spoken a fullness of the mouth!" + </p> + <p> + "Is it a wager?" said Ascobaruch. + </p> + <p> + "It is a wager!" said the High Priest. + </p> + <p> + "That's that, then," said Ascobaruch. "Now, I don't want to be mixed up in + any unpleasantness, so what I think I'll do while what you might call the + preliminaries are being arranged is to go and take a little trip abroad + somewhere. The Middle Lakes are pleasant at this time of year. When I come + back, it's possible that all the formalities will have been completed, + yes?" + </p> + <p> + "Rely on me, by Hec!" said the High Priest grimly, as he fingered his + weapon. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The High Priest was as good as his word. Early on the morrow he made his + way to the Linx, and found the King holing-out on the second green. + Merolchazzar was in high good humour. + </p> + <p> + "Greetings, O venerable one!" he cried, jovially. "Hadst thou come a + moment sooner, them wouldst have seen me lay my ball dead—aye, dead + as mutton, with the sweetest little half-mashie-niblick chip-shot ever + seen outside the sacred domain of S'nandrew, on whom"—he bared his + head reverently—"be peace! In one under bogey did I do the hole—yea, + and that despite the fact that, slicing my drive, I became ensnared in + yonder undergrowth." + </p> + <p> + The High Priest had not the advantage of understanding one word of what + the King was talking about, but he gathered with satisfaction that + Merolchazzar was pleased and wholly without suspicion. He clasped an + unseen hand more firmly about the handle of his knife, and accompanied the + monarch to the next altar. Merolchazzar stooped, and placed a small round + white object on a little mound of sand. In spite of his austere views, the + High Priest, always a keen student of ritual, became interested. + </p> + <p> + "Why does your Majesty do that?" + </p> + <p> + "I tee it up that it may fly the fairer. If I did not, then would it be + apt to run along the ground like a beetle instead of soaring like a bird, + and mayhap, for thou seest how rough and tangled is the grass before us, I + should have to use a niblick for my second." + </p> + <p> + The High Priest groped for his meaning. + </p> + <p> + "It is a ceremony to propitiate the god and bring good luck?" + </p> + <p> + "You might call it that." + </p> + <p> + The High Priest shook his head. + </p> + <p> + "I may be old-fashioned," he said, "but I should have thought that, to + propitiate a god, it would have been better to have sacrificed one of + these <i>kaddiz</i> on his altar." + </p> + <p> + "I confess," replied the King, thoughtfully, "that I have often felt that + it would be a relief to one's feelings to sacrifice one or two <i>kaddiz</i>, + but The Pro for some reason or other has set his face against it." He + swung at the ball, and sent it forcefully down the fairway. "By Abe, the + son of Mitchell," he cried, shading his eyes, "a bird of a drive! How + truly is it written in the book of the prophet Vadun, 'The left hand + applieth the force, the right doth but guide. Grip not, therefore, too + closely with the right hand!' Yesterday I was pulling all the time." + </p> + <p> + The High Priest frowned. + </p> + <p> + "It is written in the sacred book of Hec, your Majesty, 'Thou shalt not + follow after strange gods'." + </p> + <p> + "Take thou this stick, O venerable one," said the King, paying no + attention to the remark, "and have a shot thyself. True, thou art well + stricken in years, but many a man has so wrought that he was able to give + his grandchildren a stroke a hole. It is never too late to begin." + </p> + <p> + The High Priest shrank back, horrified. The King frowned. + </p> + <p> + "It is our Royal wish," he said, coldly. + </p> + <p> + The High Priest was forced to comply. Had they been alone, it is possible + that he might have risked all on one swift stroke with his knife, but by + this time a group of <i>kaddiz</i> had drifted up, and were watching the + proceedings with that supercilious detachment so characteristic of them. + He took the stick and arranged his limbs as the King directed. + </p> + <p> + "Now," said Merolchazzar, "slow back and keep your e'e on the ba'!" + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + A month later, Ascobaruch returned from his trip. He had received no word + from the High Priest announcing the success of the revolution, but there + might be many reasons for that. It was with unruffled contentment that he + bade his charioteer drive him to the palace. He was glad to get back, for + after all a holiday is hardly a holiday if you have left your business + affairs unsettled. + </p> + <p> + As he drove, the chariot passed a fair open space, on the outskirts of the + city. A sudden chill froze the serenity of Ascobaruch's mood. He prodded + the charioteer sharply in the small of the back. + </p> + <p> + "What is that?" he demanded, catching his breath. + </p> + <p> + All over the green expanse could be seen men in strange robes, moving to + and fro in couples and bearing in their hands mystic wands. Some searched + restlessly in the bushes, others were walking briskly in the direction of + small red flags. A sickening foreboding of disaster fell upon Ascobaruch. + </p> + <p> + The charioteer seemed surprised at the question. + </p> + <p> + "Yon's the muneecipal linx," he replied. + </p> + <p> + "The what?" + </p> + <p> + "The muneecipal linx." + </p> + <p> + "Tell me, fellow, why do you talk that way?" + </p> + <p> + "Whitway?" + </p> + <p> + "Why, like that. The way you're talking." + </p> + <p> + "Hoots, mon!" said the charioteer. "His Majesty King Merolchazzar—may + his handicap decrease!—hae passit a law that a' his soobjects shall + do it. Aiblins, 'tis the language spoken by The Pro, on whom be peace! + Mphm!" + </p> + <p> + Ascobaruch sat back limply, his head swimming. The chariot drove on, till + now it took the road adjoining the royal Linx. A wall lined a portion of + this road, and suddenly, from behind this wall, there rent the air a great + shout of laughter. + </p> + <p> + "Pull up!" cried Ascobaruch to the charioteer. + </p> + <p> + He had recognized that laugh. It was the laugh of Merolchazzar. + </p> + <p> + Ascobaruch crept to the wall and cautiously poked his head over it. The + sight he saw drove the blood from his face and left him white and haggard. + </p> + <p> + The King and the Grand Vizier were playing a foursome against the Pro and + the High Priest of Hec, and the Vizier had just laid the High Priest a + dead stymie. + </p> + <p> + Ascobaruch tottered to the chariot. + </p> + <p> + "Take me back," he muttered, pallidly. "I've forgotten something!" + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + And so golf came to Oom, and with it prosperity unequalled in the whole + history of the land. Everybody was happy. There was no more unemployment. + Crime ceased. The chronicler repeatedly refers to it in his memoirs as the + Golden Age. And yet there remained one man on whom complete felicity had + not descended. It was all right while he was actually on the Linx, but + there were blank, dreary stretches of the night when King Merolchazzar lay + sleepless on his couch and mourned that he had nobody to love him. + </p> + <p> + Of course, his subjects loved him in a way. A new statue had been erected + in the palace square, showing him in the act of getting out of casual + water. The minstrels had composed a whole cycle of up-to-date songs, + commemorating his prowess with the mashie. His handicap was down to + twelve. But these things are not all. A golfer needs a loving wife, to + whom he can describe the day's play through the long evenings. And this + was just where Merolchazzar's life was empty. No word had come from the + Princess of the Outer Isles, and, as he refused to be put off with + just-as-good substitutes, he remained a lonely man. + </p> + <p> + But one morning, in the early hours of a summer day, as he lay sleeping + after a disturbed night, Merolchazzar was awakened by the eager hand of + the Lord High Chamberlain, shaking his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + "Now what?" said the King. + </p> + <p> + "Hoots, your Majesty! Glorious news! The Princess of the Outer Isles waits + without—I mean wi'oot!" + </p> + <p> + The King sprang from his couch. + </p> + <p> + "A messenger from the Princess at last!" + </p> + <p> + "Nay, sire, the Princess herself—that is to say," said the Lord + Chamberlain, who was an old man and had found it hard to accustom himself + to the new tongue at his age, "her ain sel'! And believe me, or rather, + mind ah'm telling ye," went on the honest man, joyfully, for he had been + deeply exercised by his monarch's troubles, "her Highness is the easiest + thing to look at these eyes hae ever seen. And you can say I said it!" + </p> + <p> + "She is beautiful?" + </p> + <p> + "Your majesty, she is, in the best and deepest sense of the word, a + pippin!" + </p> + <p> + King Merolchazzar was groping wildly for his robes. + </p> + <p> + "Tell her to wait!" he cried. "Go and amuse her. Ask her riddles! Tell her + anecdotes! Don't let her go. Say I'll be down in a moment. Where in the + name of Zoroaster is our imperial mesh-knit underwear?" + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + A fair and pleasing sight was the Princess of the Outer Isles as she stood + on the terrace in the clear sunshine of the summer morning, looking over + the King's gardens. With her delicate little nose she sniffed the + fragrance of the flowers. Her blue eyes roamed over the rose bushes, and + the breeze ruffled the golden curls about her temples. Presently a sound + behind her caused her to turn, and she perceived a godlike man hurrying + across the terrace pulling up a sock. And at the sight of him the + Princess's heart sang within her like the birds down in the garden. + </p> + <p> + "Hope I haven't kept you waiting," said Merolchazzar, apologetically. He, + too, was conscious of a strange, wild exhilaration. Truly was this maiden, + as his Chamberlain had said, noticeably easy on the eyes. Her beauty was + as water in the desert, as fire on a frosty night, as diamonds, rubies, + pearls, sapphires, and amethysts. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, no!" said the princess, "I've been enjoying myself. How passing + beautiful are thy gardens, O King!" + </p> + <p> + "My gardens may be passing beautiful," said Merolchazzar, earnestly, "but + they aren't half so passing beautiful as thy eyes. I have dreamed of thee + by night and by day, and I will tell the world I was nowhere near it! My + sluggish fancy came not within a hundred and fifty-seven miles of the + reality. Now let the sun dim his face and the moon hide herself abashed. + Now let the flowers bend their heads and the gazelle of the mountains + confess itself a cripple. Princess, your slave!" + </p> + <p> + And King Merolchazzar, with that easy grace so characteristic of Royalty, + took her hand in his and kissed it. + </p> + <p> + As he did so, he gave a start of surprise. + </p> + <p> + "By Hec!" he exclaimed. "What hast thou been doing to thyself? Thy hand is + all over little rough places inside. Has some malignant wizard laid a + spell upon thee, or what is it?" + </p> + <p> + The Princess blushed. + </p> + <p> + "If I make that clear to thee," she said, "I shall also make clear why it + was that I sent thee no message all this long while. My time was so + occupied, verily I did not seem to have a moment. The fact is, these + sorenesses are due to a strange, new religion to which I and my subjects + have but recently become converted. And O that I might make thee also of + the true faith! 'Tis a wondrous tale, my lord. Some two moons back there + was brought to my Court by wandering pirates a captive of an uncouth race + who dwell in the north. And this man has taught us——" + </p> + <p> + King Merolchazzar uttered a loud cry. + </p> + <p> + "By Tom, the son of Morris! Can this truly be so? What is thy handicap?" + </p> + <p> + The Princess stared at him, wide-eyed. + </p> + <p> + "Truly this is a miracle! Art thou also a worshipper of the great Gowf?" + </p> + <p> + "Am I!" cried the King. "Am I!" He broke off. "Listen!" + </p> + <p> + From the minstrels' room high up in the palace there came the sound of + singing. The minstrels were practising a new paean of praise—words + by the Grand Vizier, music by the High Priest of Hec—which they were + to render at the next full moon at the banquet of the worshippers of Gowf. + The words came clear and distinct through the still air: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>"Oh, praises let us utter + To our most glorious King! + It fairly makes you stutter + To see him start his swing! + Success attend his putter! + And luck be with his drive! + And may he do each hole in two, + Although the bogey's five!"</i> +</pre> + <p> + The voices died away. There was a silence. + </p> + <p> + "If I hadn't missed a two-foot putt, I'd have done the long fifteenth in + four yesterday," said the King. + </p> + <p> + "I won the Ladies' Open Championship of the Outer Isles last week," said + the Princess. + </p> + <p> + They looked into each other's eyes for a long moment. And then, hand in + hand, they walked slowly into the palace. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_EPIL" id="link2H_EPIL"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EPILOGUE + </h2> + <h3> + "Well?" we said, anxiously. + </h3> + <p> + "I like it," said the editor. + </p> + <p> + "Good egg!" we murmured. + </p> + <p> + The editor pressed a bell, a single ruby set in a fold of the tapestry + upon the wall. The major-domo appeared. + </p> + <p> + "Give this man a purse of gold," said the editor, "and throw him out." + </p> + <h3> + THE END + </h3> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Clicking of Cuthbert, by P. G. 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G. Wodehouse + +Posting Date: August 26, 2012 [EBook #7028] +Release Date: December, 2004 +First Posted: February 24, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CLICKING OF CUTHBERT *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + + + +THE CLICKING OF CUTHBERT + + + + +by P. G. Wodehouse + +1922 + + + + + +DEDICATION + +TO THE IMMORTAL MEMORY OF +JOHN HENRIE AND PAT ROGIE +WHO AT EDINBURGH IN THE YEAR 1593 A.D. +WERE IMPRISONED FOR +"PLAYING OF THE GOWFF ON THE LINKS OF LEITH +EVERY SABBATH THE TIME OF THE SERMONSES", +ALSO OF ROBERT ROBERTSON WHO GOT IT IN THE NECK +IN 1604 A.D. FOR THE SAME REASON + + + + +FORE! + + +This book marks an epoch in my literary career. It is written in +blood. It is the outpouring of a soul as deeply seared by Fate's +unkindness as the fairway on the dog-leg hole of the second nine was +ever seared by my iron. It is the work of a very nearly desperate man, +an eighteen-handicap man who has got to look extremely slippy if he +doesn't want to find himself in the twenties again. + +As a writer of light fiction, I have always till now been handicapped +by the fact that my disposition was cheerful, my heart intact, and my +life unsoured. Handicapped, I say, because the public likes to feel +that a writer of farcical stories is piquantly miserable in his private +life, and that, if he turns out anything amusing, he does it simply in +order to obtain relief from the almost insupportable weight of an +existence which he has long since realized to be a wash-out. Well, +today I am just like that. + +Two years ago, I admit, I was a shallow _farceur_. My work lacked +depth. I wrote flippantly simply because I was having a thoroughly good +time. Then I took up golf, and now I can smile through the tears and +laugh, like Figaro, that I may not weep, and generally hold my head up +and feel that I am entitled to respect. + +If you find anything in this volume that amuses you, kindly bear in +mind that it was probably written on my return home after losing three +balls in the gorse or breaking the head off a favourite driver: and, +with a murmured "Brave fellow! Brave fellow!" recall the story of the +clown jesting while his child lay dying at home. That is all. Thank you +for your sympathy. It means more to me than I can say. Do you think +that if I tried the square stance for a bit.... But, after all, this +cannot interest you. Leave me to my misery. + + +POSTSCRIPT.--In the second chapter I allude to Stout Cortez staring at +the Pacific. Shortly after the appearance of this narrative in serial +form in America, I received an anonymous letter containing the words, +"You big stiff, it wasn't Cortez, it was Balboa." This, I believe, is +historically accurate. On the other hand, if Cortez was good enough for +Keats, he is good enough for me. Besides, even if it _was_ Balboa, +the Pacific was open for being stared at about that time, and I see no +reason why Cortez should not have had a look at it as well. + + P. G. WODEHOUSE. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +FORE! + +CHAPTER + +I. THE CLICKING OF CUTHBERT + +II. A WOMAN IS ONLY A WOMAN + +III. A MIXED THREESOME + +IV. SUNDERED HEARTS + +V. THE SALVATION OF GEORGE MACKINTOSH + +VI. ORDEAL BY GOLF + +VII. THE LONG HOLE + +VIII. THE HEEL OF ACHILLES + +IX. THE ROUGH STUFF + +X. THE COMING OF GOWF + + + + +1 + +_The Clicking of Cuthbert_ + + +The young man came into the smoking-room of the clubhouse, and flung +his bag with a clatter on the floor. He sank moodily into an arm-chair +and pressed the bell. + +"Waiter!" + +"Sir?" + +The young man pointed at the bag with every evidence of distaste. + +"You may have these clubs," he said. "Take them away. If you don't want +them yourself, give them to one of the caddies." + +Across the room the Oldest Member gazed at him with a grave sadness +through the smoke of his pipe. His eye was deep and dreamy--the eye of +a man who, as the poet says, has seen Golf steadily and seen it whole. + +"You are giving up golf?" he said. + +He was not altogether unprepared for such an attitude on the young +man's part: for from his eyrie on the terrace above the ninth green he +had observed him start out on the afternoon's round and had seen him +lose a couple of balls in the lake at the second hole after taking +seven strokes at the first. + +"Yes!" cried the young man fiercely. "For ever, dammit! Footling game! +Blanked infernal fat-headed silly ass of a game! Nothing but a waste of +time." + +The Sage winced. + +"Don't say that, my boy." + +"But I do say it. What earthly good is golf? Life is stern and life is +earnest. We live in a practical age. All round us we see foreign +competition making itself unpleasant. And we spend our time playing +golf! What do we get out of it? Is golf any _use_? That's what I'm +asking you. Can you name me a single case where devotion to this +pestilential pastime has done a man any practical good?" + +The Sage smiled gently. + +"I could name a thousand." + +"One will do." + +"I will select," said the Sage, "from the innumerable memories that +rush to my mind, the story of Cuthbert Banks." + +"Never heard of him." + +"Be of good cheer," said the Oldest Member. "You are going to hear of +him now." + + * * * * * + +It was in the picturesque little settlement of Wood Hills (said the +Oldest Member) that the incidents occurred which I am about to relate. +Even if you have never been in Wood Hills, that suburban paradise is +probably familiar to you by name. Situated at a convenient distance +from the city, it combines in a notable manner the advantages of town +life with the pleasant surroundings and healthful air of the country. +Its inhabitants live in commodious houses, standing in their own +grounds, and enjoy so many luxuries--such as gravel soil, main +drainage, electric light, telephone, baths (h. and c.), and company's +own water, that you might be pardoned for imagining life to be so ideal +for them that no possible improvement could be added to their lot. Mrs. +Willoughby Smethurst was under no such delusion. What Wood Hills needed +to make it perfect, she realized, was Culture. Material comforts are +all very well, but, if the _summum bonum_ is to be achieved, the +Soul also demands a look in, and it was Mrs. Smethurst's unfaltering +resolve that never while she had her strength should the Soul be handed +the loser's end. It was her intention to make Wood Hills a centre of +all that was most cultivated and refined, and, golly! how she had +succeeded. Under her presidency the Wood Hills Literary and Debating +Society had tripled its membership. + +But there is always a fly in the ointment, a caterpillar in the salad. +The local golf club, an institution to which Mrs. Smethurst strongly +objected, had also tripled its membership; and the division of the +community into two rival camps, the Golfers and the Cultured, had +become more marked than ever. This division, always acute, had attained +now to the dimensions of a Schism. The rival sects treated one another +with a cold hostility. + +Unfortunate episodes came to widen the breach. Mrs. Smethurst's house +adjoined the links, standing to the right of the fourth tee: and, as +the Literary Society was in the habit of entertaining visiting +lecturers, many a golfer had foozled his drive owing to sudden loud +outbursts of applause coinciding with his down-swing. And not long +before this story opens a sliced ball, whizzing in at the open window, +had come within an ace of incapacitating Raymond Parsloe Devine, the +rising young novelist (who rose at that moment a clear foot and a half) +from any further exercise of his art. Two inches, indeed, to the right +and Raymond must inevitably have handed in his dinner-pail. + +To make matters worse, a ring at the front-door bell followed almost +immediately, and the maid ushered in a young man of pleasing appearance +in a sweater and baggy knickerbockers who apologetically but firmly +insisted on playing his ball where it lay, and, what with the shock of +the lecturer's narrow escape and the spectacle of the intruder standing +on the table and working away with a niblick, the afternoon's session +had to be classed as a complete frost. Mr. Devine's determination, from +which no argument could swerve him, to deliver the rest of his lecture +in the coal-cellar gave the meeting a jolt from which it never +recovered. + +I have dwelt upon this incident, because it was the means of +introducing Cuthbert Banks to Mrs. Smethurst's niece, Adeline. As +Cuthbert, for it was he who had so nearly reduced the muster-roll of +rising novelists by one, hopped down from the table after his stroke, +he was suddenly aware that a beautiful girl was looking at him +intently. As a matter of fact, everyone in the room was looking at him +intently, none more so than Raymond Parsloe Devine, but none of the +others were beautiful girls. Long as the members of Wood Hills Literary +Society were on brain, they were short on looks, and, to Cuthbert's +excited eye, Adeline Smethurst stood out like a jewel in a pile of +coke. + +He had never seen her before, for she had only arrived at her aunt's +house on the previous day, but he was perfectly certain that life, even +when lived in the midst of gravel soil, main drainage, and company's +own water, was going to be a pretty poor affair if he did not see her +again. Yes, Cuthbert was in love: and it is interesting to record, as +showing the effect of the tender emotion on a man's game, that twenty +minutes after he had met Adeline he did the short eleventh in one, and +as near as a toucher got a three on the four-hundred-yard twelfth. + +I will skip lightly over the intermediate stages of Cuthbert's +courtship and come to the moment when--at the annual ball in aid of the +local Cottage Hospital, the only occasion during the year on which the +lion, so to speak, lay down with the lamb, and the Golfers and the +Cultured met on terms of easy comradeship, their differences +temporarily laid aside--he proposed to Adeline and was badly stymied. + +That fair, soulful girl could not see him with a spy-glass. + +"Mr. Banks," she said, "I will speak frankly." + +"Charge right ahead," assented Cuthbert. + +"Deeply sensible as I am of----" + +"I know. Of the honour and the compliment and all that. But, passing +lightly over all that guff, what seems to be the trouble? I love you to +distraction----" + +"Love is not everything." + +"You're wrong," said Cuthbert, earnestly. "You're right off it. +Love----" And he was about to dilate on the theme when she interrupted +him. + +"I am a girl of ambition." + +"And very nice, too," said Cuthbert. + +"I am a girl of ambition," repeated Adeline, "and I realize that the +fulfilment of my ambitions must come through my husband. I am very +ordinary myself----" + +"What!" cried Cuthbert. "You ordinary? Why, you are a pearl among +women, the queen of your sex. You can't have been looking in a glass +lately. You stand alone. Simply alone. You make the rest look like +battered repaints." + +"Well," said Adeline, softening a trifle, "I believe I am fairly +good-looking----" + +"Anybody who was content to call you fairly good-looking would describe +the Taj Mahal as a pretty nifty tomb." + +"But that is not the point. What I mean is, if I marry a nonentity I +shall be a nonentity myself for ever. And I would sooner die than be a +nonentity." + +"And, if I follow your reasoning, you think that that lets _me_ +out?" + +"Well, really, Mr. Banks, _have_ you done anything, or are you +likely ever to do anything worth while?" + +Cuthbert hesitated. + +"It's true," he said, "I didn't finish in the first ten in the Open, +and I was knocked out in the semi-final of the Amateur, but I won the +French Open last year." + +"The--what?" + +"The French Open Championship. Golf, you know." + +"Golf! You waste all your time playing golf. I admire a man who is more +spiritual, more intellectual." + +A pang of jealousy rent Cuthbert's bosom. + +"Like What's-his-name Devine?" he said, sullenly. + +"Mr. Devine," replied Adeline, blushing faintly, "is going to be a +great man. Already he has achieved much. The critics say that he is +more Russian than any other young English writer." + +"And is that good?" + +"Of course it's good." + +"I should have thought the wheeze would be to be more English than any +other young English writer." + +"Nonsense! Who wants an English writer to be English? You've got to be +Russian or Spanish or something to be a real success. The mantle of the +great Russians has descended on Mr. Devine." + +"From what I've heard of Russians, I should hate to have that happen to +_me_." + +"There is no danger of that," said Adeline scornfully. + +"Oh! Well, let me tell you that there is a lot more in me than you +think." + +"That might easily be so." + +"You think I'm not spiritual and intellectual," said Cuthbert, deeply +moved. "Very well. Tomorrow I join the Literary Society." + +Even as he spoke the words his leg was itching to kick himself for +being such a chump, but the sudden expression of pleasure on Adeline's +face soothed him; and he went home that night with the feeling that he +had taken on something rather attractive. It was only in the cold, grey +light of the morning that he realized what he had let himself in for. + +I do not know if you have had any experience of suburban literary +societies, but the one that flourished under the eye of Mrs. Willoughby +Smethurst at Wood Hills was rather more so than the average. With my +feeble powers of narrative, I cannot hope to make clear to you all that +Cuthbert Banks endured in the next few weeks. And, even if I could, I +doubt if I should do so. It is all very well to excite pity and terror, +as Aristotle recommends, but there are limits. In the ancient Greek +tragedies it was an ironclad rule that all the real rough stuff should +take place off-stage, and I shall follow this admirable principle. It +will suffice if I say merely that J. Cuthbert Banks had a thin time. +After attending eleven debates and fourteen lectures on _vers libre_ +Poetry, the Seventeenth-Century Essayists, the Neo-Scandinavian +Movement in Portuguese Literature, and other subjects of a similar +nature, he grew so enfeebled that, on the rare occasions when he had +time for a visit to the links, he had to take a full iron for his mashie +shots. + +It was not simply the oppressive nature of the debates and lectures +that sapped his vitality. What really got right in amongst him was the +torture of seeing Adeline's adoration of Raymond Parsloe Devine. The +man seemed to have made the deepest possible impression upon her +plastic emotions. When he spoke, she leaned forward with parted lips +and looked at him. When he was not speaking--which was seldom--she +leaned back and looked at him. And when he happened to take the next +seat to her, she leaned sideways and looked at him. One glance at Mr. +Devine would have been more than enough for Cuthbert; but Adeline found +him a spectacle that never palled. She could not have gazed at him with +a more rapturous intensity if she had been a small child and he a +saucer of ice-cream. All this Cuthbert had to witness while still +endeavouring to retain the possession of his faculties sufficiently to +enable him to duck and back away if somebody suddenly asked him what he +thought of the sombre realism of Vladimir Brusiloff. It is little +wonder that he tossed in bed, picking at the coverlet, through +sleepless nights, and had to have all his waistcoats taken in three +inches to keep them from sagging. + +This Vladimir Brusiloff to whom I have referred was the famous Russian +novelist, and, owing to the fact of his being in the country on a +lecturing tour at the moment, there had been something of a boom in his +works. The Wood Hills Literary Society had been studying them for +weeks, and never since his first entrance into intellectual circles had +Cuthbert Banks come nearer to throwing in the towel. Vladimir +specialized in grey studies of hopeless misery, where nothing happened +till page three hundred and eighty, when the moujik decided to commit +suicide. It was tough going for a man whose deepest reading hitherto +had been Vardon on the Push-Shot, and there can be no greater proof of +the magic of love than the fact that Cuthbert stuck it without a cry. +But the strain was terrible and I am inclined to think that he must +have cracked, had it not been for the daily reports in the papers of +the internecine strife which was proceeding so briskly in Russia. +Cuthbert was an optimist at heart, and it seemed to him that, at the +rate at which the inhabitants of that interesting country were +murdering one another, the supply of Russian novelists must eventually +give out. + +One morning, as he tottered down the road for the short walk which was +now almost the only exercise to which he was equal, Cuthbert met +Adeline. A spasm of anguish flitted through all his nerve-centres as he +saw that she was accompanied by Raymond Parsloe Devine. + +"Good morning, Mr. Banks," said Adeline. + +"Good morning," said Cuthbert hollowly. + +"Such good news about Vladimir Brusiloff." + +"Dead?" said Cuthbert, with a touch of hope. + +"Dead? Of course not. Why should he be? No, Aunt Emily met his manager +after his lecture at Queen's Hall yesterday, and he has promised that +Mr. Brusiloff shall come to her next Wednesday reception." + +"Oh, ah!" said Cuthbert, dully. + +"I don't know how she managed it. I think she must have told him that +Mr. Devine would be there to meet him." + +"But you said he was coming," argued Cuthbert. + +"I shall be very glad," said Raymond Devine, "of the opportunity of +meeting Brusiloff." + +"I'm sure," said Adeline, "he will be very glad of the opportunity of +meeting you." + +"Possibly," said Mr. Devine. "Possibly. Competent critics have said +that my work closely resembles that of the great Russian Masters." + +"Your psychology is so deep." + +"Yes, yes." + +"And your atmosphere." + +"Quite." + +Cuthbert in a perfect agony of spirit prepared to withdraw from this +love-feast. The sun was shining brightly, but the world was black to +him. Birds sang in the tree-tops, but he did not hear them. He might +have been a moujik for all the pleasure he found in life. + +"You will be there, Mr. Banks?" said Adeline, as he turned away. + +"Oh, all right," said Cuthbert. + +When Cuthbert had entered the drawing-room on the following Wednesday +and had taken his usual place in a distant corner where, while able to +feast his gaze on Adeline, he had a sporting chance of being overlooked +or mistaken for a piece of furniture, he perceived the great Russian +thinker seated in the midst of a circle of admiring females. Raymond +Parsloe Devine had not yet arrived. + +His first glance at the novelist surprised Cuthbert. Doubtless with the +best motives, Vladimir Brusiloff had permitted his face to become +almost entirely concealed behind a dense zareba of hair, but his eyes +were visible through the undergrowth, and it seemed to Cuthbert that +there was an expression in them not unlike that of a cat in a strange +backyard surrounded by small boys. The man looked forlorn and hopeless, +and Cuthbert wondered whether he had had bad news from home. + +This was not the case. The latest news which Vladimir Brusiloff had had +from Russia had been particularly cheering. Three of his principal +creditors had perished in the last massacre of the _bourgeoisie_, +and a man whom he owed for five years for a samovar and a pair of +overshoes had fled the country, and had not been heard of since. It was +not bad news from home that was depressing Vladimir. What was wrong +with him was the fact that this was the eighty-second suburban literary +reception he had been compelled to attend since he had landed in the +country on his lecturing tour, and he was sick to death of it. When his +agent had first suggested the trip, he had signed on the dotted line +without an instant's hesitation. Worked out in roubles, the fees +offered had seemed just about right. But now, as he peered through +the brushwood at the faces round him, and realized that eight out of +ten of those present had manuscripts of some sort concealed on their +persons, and were only waiting for an opportunity to whip them out +and start reading, he wished that he had stayed at his quiet home in +Nijni-Novgorod, where the worst thing that could happen to a fellow +was a brace of bombs coming in through the window and mixing +themselves up with his breakfast egg. + +At this point in his meditations he was aware that his hostess was +looming up before him with a pale young man in horn-rimmed spectacles +at her side. There was in Mrs. Smethurst's demeanour something of the +unction of the master-of-ceremonies at the big fight who introduces the +earnest gentleman who wishes to challenge the winner. + +"Oh, Mr. Brusiloff," said Mrs. Smethurst, "I do so want you to meet Mr. +Raymond Parsloe Devine, whose work I expect you know. He is one of our +younger novelists." + +The distinguished visitor peered in a wary and defensive manner through +the shrubbery, but did not speak. Inwardly he was thinking how exactly +like Mr. Devine was to the eighty-one other younger novelists to whom +he had been introduced at various hamlets throughout the country. +Raymond Parsloe Devine bowed courteously, while Cuthbert, wedged into +his corner, glowered at him. + +"The critics," said Mr. Devine, "have been kind enough to say that my +poor efforts contain a good deal of the Russian spirit. I owe much to +the great Russians. I have been greatly influenced by Sovietski." + +Down in the forest something stirred. It was Vladimir Brusiloff's mouth +opening, as he prepared to speak. He was not a man who prattled +readily, especially in a foreign tongue. He gave the impression that +each word was excavated from his interior by some up-to-date process of +mining. He glared bleakly at Mr. Devine, and allowed three words to +drop out of him. + +"Sovietski no good!" + +He paused for a moment, set the machinery working again, and delivered +five more at the pithead. + +"I spit me of Sovietski!" + +There was a painful sensation. The lot of a popular idol is in many +ways an enviable one, but it has the drawback of uncertainty. Here +today and gone tomorrow. Until this moment Raymond Parsloe Devine's +stock had stood at something considerably over par in Wood Hills +intellectual circles, but now there was a rapid slump. Hitherto he had +been greatly admired for being influenced by Sovietski, but it appeared +now that this was not a good thing to be. It was evidently a rotten +thing to be. The law could not touch you for being influenced by +Sovietski, but there is an ethical as well as a legal code, and this it +was obvious that Raymond Parsloe Devine had transgressed. Women drew +away from him slightly, holding their skirts. Men looked at him +censoriously. Adeline Smethurst started violently, and dropped a +tea-cup. And Cuthbert Banks, doing his popular imitation of a sardine +in his corner, felt for the first time that life held something of +sunshine. + +Raymond Parsloe Devine was plainly shaken, but he made an adroit +attempt to recover his lost prestige. + +"When I say I have been influenced by Sovietski, I mean, of course, +that I was once under his spell. A young writer commits many follies. I +have long since passed through that phase. The false glamour of +Sovietski has ceased to dazzle me. I now belong whole-heartedly to the +school of Nastikoff." + +There was a reaction. People nodded at one another sympathetically. +After all, we cannot expect old heads on young shoulders, and a lapse +at the outset of one's career should not be held against one who has +eventually seen the light. + +"Nastikoff no good," said Vladimir Brusiloff, coldly. He paused, +listening to the machinery. + +"Nastikoff worse than Sovietski." + +He paused again. + +"I spit me of Nastikoff!" he said. + +This time there was no doubt about it. The bottom had dropped out of +the market, and Raymond Parsloe Devine Preferred were down in the +cellar with no takers. It was clear to the entire assembled company +that they had been all wrong about Raymond Parsloe Devine. They had +allowed him to play on their innocence and sell them a pup. They had +taken him at his own valuation, and had been cheated into admiring him +as a man who amounted to something, and all the while he had belonged +to the school of Nastikoff. You never can tell. Mrs. Smethurst's guests +were well-bred, and there was consequently no violent demonstration, +but you could see by their faces what they felt. Those nearest Raymond +Parsloe jostled to get further away. Mrs. Smethurst eyed him stonily +through a raised lorgnette. One or two low hisses were heard, and over +at the other end of the room somebody opened the window in a marked +manner. + +Raymond Parsloe Devine hesitated for a moment, then, realizing his +situation, turned and slunk to the door. There was an audible sigh of +relief as it closed behind him. + +Vladimir Brusiloff proceeded to sum up. + +"No novelists any good except me. Sovietski--yah! Nastikoff--bah! I spit +me of zem all. No novelists anywhere any good except me. P. G. +Wodehouse and Tolstoi not bad. Not good, but not bad. No novelists any +good except me." + +And, having uttered this dictum, he removed a slab of cake from a +near-by plate, steered it through the jungle, and began to champ. + +It is too much to say that there was a dead silence. There could never +be that in any room in which Vladimir Brusiloff was eating cake. But +certainly what you might call the general chit-chat was pretty well +down and out. Nobody liked to be the first to speak. The members of the +Wood Hills Literary Society looked at one another timidly. Cuthbert, +for his part, gazed at Adeline; and Adeline gazed into space. It was +plain that the girl was deeply stirred. Her eyes were opened wide, a +faint flush crimsoned her cheeks, and her breath was coming quickly. + +Adeline's mind was in a whirl. She felt as if she had been walking +gaily along a pleasant path and had stopped suddenly on the very brink +of a precipice. It would be idle to deny that Raymond Parsloe Devine +had attracted her extraordinarily. She had taken him at his own +valuation as an extremely hot potato, and her hero-worship had +gradually been turning into love. And now her hero had been shown to +have feet of clay. It was hard, I consider, on Raymond Parsloe Devine, +but that is how it goes in this world. You get a following as a +celebrity, and then you run up against another bigger celebrity and +your admirers desert you. One could moralize on this at considerable +length, but better not, perhaps. Enough to say that the glamour of +Raymond Devine ceased abruptly in that moment for Adeline, and her most +coherent thought at this juncture was the resolve, as soon as she got +up to her room, to burn the three signed photographs he had sent her +and to give the autographed presentation set of his books to the +grocer's boy. + +Mrs. Smethurst, meanwhile, having rallied somewhat, was endeavouring to +set the feast of reason and flow of soul going again. + +"And how do you like England, Mr. Brusiloff?" she asked. + +The celebrity paused in the act of lowering another segment of cake. + +"Dam good," he replied, cordially. + +"I suppose you have travelled all over the country by this time?" + +"You said it," agreed the Thinker. + +"Have you met many of our great public men?" + +"Yais--Yais--Quite a few of the nibs--Lloyid Gorge, I meet him. But----" +Beneath the matting a discontented expression came into his face, and +his voice took on a peevish note. "But I not meet your real great +men--your Arbmishel, your Arreevadon--I not meet them. That's what +gives me the pipovitch. Have _you_ ever met Arbmishel and +Arreevadon?" + +A strained, anguished look came into Mrs. Smethurst's face and was +reflected in the faces of the other members of the circle. The eminent +Russian had sprung two entirely new ones on them, and they felt that +their ignorance was about to be exposed. What would Vladimir Brusiloff +think of the Wood Hills Literary Society? The reputation of the Wood +Hills Literary Society was at stake, trembling in the balance, and +coming up for the third time. In dumb agony Mrs. Smethurst rolled her +eyes about the room searching for someone capable of coming to the +rescue. She drew blank. + +And then, from a distant corner, there sounded a deprecating, cough, +and those nearest Cuthbert Banks saw that he had stopped twisting his +right foot round his left ankle and his left foot round his right ankle +and was sitting up with a light of almost human intelligence in his +eyes. + +"Er----" said Cuthbert, blushing as every eye in the room seemed to fix +itself on him, "I think he means Abe Mitchell and Harry Vardon." + +"Abe Mitchell and Harry Vardon?" repeated Mrs. Smethurst, blankly. "I +never heard of----" + +"Yais! Yais! Most! Very!" shouted Vladimir Brusiloff, enthusiastically. +"Arbmishel and Arreevadon. You know them, yes, what, no, perhaps?" + +"I've played with Abe Mitchell often, and I was partnered with Harry +Vardon in last year's Open." + +The great Russian uttered a cry that shook the chandelier. + +"You play in ze Open? Why," he demanded reproachfully of Mrs. +Smethurst, "was I not been introducted to this young man who play in +opens?" + +"Well, really," faltered Mrs. Smethurst. "Well, the fact is, Mr. +Brusiloff----" + +She broke off. She was unequal to the task of explaining, without +hurting anyone's feelings, that she had always regarded Cuthbert as a +piece of cheese and a blot on the landscape. + +"Introduct me!" thundered the Celebrity. + +"Why, certainly, certainly, of course. This is Mr.----." + +She looked appealingly at Cuthbert. + +"Banks," prompted Cuthbert. + +"Banks!" cried Vladimir Brusiloff. "Not Cootaboot Banks?" + +"_Is_ your name Cootaboot?" asked Mrs. Smethurst, faintly. + +"Well, it's Cuthbert." + +"Yais! Yais! Cootaboot!" There was a rush and swirl, as the +effervescent Muscovite burst his way through the throng and rushed to +where Cuthbert sat. He stood for a moment eyeing him excitedly, then, +stooping swiftly, kissed him on both cheeks before Cuthbert could get +his guard up. "My dear young man, I saw you win ze French Open. Great! +Great! Grand! Superb! Hot stuff, and you can say I said so! Will you +permit one who is but eighteen at Nijni-Novgorod to salute you once +more?" + +And he kissed Cuthbert again. Then, brushing aside one or two +intellectuals who were in the way, he dragged up a chair and sat down. + +"You are a great man!" he said. + +"Oh, no," said Cuthbert modestly. + +"Yais! Great. Most! Very! The way you lay your approach-putts dead from +anywhere!" + +"Oh, I don't know." + +Mr. Brusiloff drew his chair closer. + +"Let me tell you one vairy funny story about putting. It was one day I +play at Nijni-Novgorod with the pro. against Lenin and Trotsky, and +Trotsky had a two-inch putt for the hole. But, just as he addresses the +ball, someone in the crowd he tries to assassinate Lenin with a +rewolwer--you know that is our great national sport, trying to +assassinate Lenin with rewolwers--and the bang puts Trotsky off his +stroke and he goes five yards past the hole, and then Lenin, who is +rather shaken, you understand, he misses again himself, and we win the +hole and match and I clean up three hundred and ninety-six thousand +roubles, or fifteen shillings in your money. Some gameovitch! And now +let me tell you one other vairy funny story----" + +Desultory conversation had begun in murmurs over the rest of the room, +as the Wood Hills intellectuals politely endeavoured to conceal the +fact that they realized that they were about as much out of it at this +re-union of twin souls as cats at a dog-show. From time to time they +started as Vladimir Brusiloff's laugh boomed out. Perhaps it was a +consolation to them to know that he was enjoying himself. + +As for Adeline, how shall I describe her emotions? She was stunned. +Before her very eyes the stone which the builders had rejected had +become the main thing, the hundred-to-one shot had walked away with the +race. A rush of tender admiration for Cuthbert Banks flooded her heart. +She saw that she had been all wrong. Cuthbert, whom she had always +treated with a patronizing superiority, was really a man to be looked +up to and worshipped. A deep, dreamy sigh shook Adeline's fragile form. + +Half an hour later Vladimir and Cuthbert Banks rose. + +"Goot-a-bye, Mrs. Smet-thirst," said the Celebrity. "Zank you for a +most charming visit. My friend Cootaboot and me we go now to shoot a +few holes. You will lend me clobs, friend Cootaboot?" + +"Any you want." + +"The niblicksky is what I use most. Goot-a-bye, Mrs. Smet-thirst." + +They were moving to the door, when Cuthbert felt a light touch on his +arm. Adeline was looking up at him tenderly. + +"May I come, too, and walk round with you?" + +Cuthbert's bosom heaved. + +"Oh," he said, with a tremor in his voice, "that you would walk round +with me for life!" + +Her eyes met his. + +"Perhaps," she whispered, softly, "it could be arranged." + + * * * * * + +"And so," (concluded the Oldest Member), "you see that golf can be of +the greatest practical assistance to a man in Life's struggle. Raymond +Parsloe Devine, who was no player, had to move out of the neighbourhood +immediately, and is now, I believe, writing scenarios out in California +for the Flicker Film Company. Adeline is married to Cuthbert, and it +was only his earnest pleading which prevented her from having their +eldest son christened Abe Mitchell Ribbed-Faced Mashie Banks, for she +is now as keen a devotee of the great game as her husband. Those who +know them say that theirs is a union so devoted, so----" + + * * * * * + +The Sage broke off abruptly, for the young man had rushed to the door +and out into the passage. Through the open door he could hear him +crying passionately to the waiter to bring back his clubs. + + + + +2 + +_A Woman is only a Woman_ + + +On a fine day in the spring, summer, or early autumn, there are few +spots more delightful than the terrace in front of our Golf Club. It is +a vantage-point peculiarly fitted to the man of philosophic mind: for +from it may be seen that varied, never-ending pageant, which men call +Golf, in a number of its aspects. To your right, on the first tee, +stand the cheery optimists who are about to make their opening drive, +happily conscious that even a topped shot will trickle a measurable +distance down the steep hill. Away in the valley, directly in front of +you, is the lake hole, where these same optimists will be converted to +pessimism by the wet splash of a new ball. At your side is the ninth +green, with its sinuous undulations which have so often wrecked the +returning traveller in sight of home. And at various points within your +line of vision are the third tee, the sixth tee, and the sinister +bunkers about the eighth green--none of them lacking in food for the +reflective mind. + +It is on this terrace that the Oldest Member sits, watching the younger +generation knocking at the divot. His gaze wanders from Jimmy +Fothergill's two-hundred-and-twenty-yard drive down the hill to the +silver drops that flash up in the sun, as young Freddie Woosley's +mashie-shot drops weakly into the waters of the lake. Returning, it +rests upon Peter Willard, large and tall, and James Todd, small and +slender, as they struggle up the fair-way of the ninth. + + * * * * * + +Love (says the Oldest Member) is an emotion which your true golfer +should always treat with suspicion. Do not misunderstand me. I am not +saying that love is a bad thing, only that it is an unknown quantity. I +have known cases where marriage improved a man's game, and other cases +where it seemed to put him right off his stroke. There seems to be no +fixed rule. But what I do say is that a golfer should be cautious. He +should not be led away by the first pretty face. I will tell you a +story that illustrates the point. It is the story of those two men who +have just got on to the ninth green--Peter Willard and James Todd. + +There is about great friendships between man and man (said the Oldest +Member) a certain inevitability that can only be compared with the +age-old association of ham and eggs. No one can say when it was that +these two wholesome and palatable food-stuffs first came together, nor +what was the mutual magnetism that brought their deathless partnership +about. One simply feels that it is one of the things that must be so. +Similarly with men. Who can trace to its first beginnings the love of +Damon for Pythias, of David for Jonathan, of Swan for Edgar? Who can +explain what it was about Crosse that first attracted Blackwell? We +simply say, "These men are friends," and leave it at that. + +In the case of Peter Willard and James Todd, one may hazard the guess +that the first link in the chain that bound them together was the fact +that they took up golf within a few days of each other, and contrived, +as time went on, to develop such equal form at the game that the most +expert critics are still baffled in their efforts to decide which is +the worse player. I have heard the point argued a hundred times without +any conclusion being reached. Supporters of Peter claim that his +driving off the tee entitles him to an unchallenged pre-eminence among +the world's most hopeless foozlers--only to be discomfited later when +the advocates of James show, by means of diagrams, that no one has ever +surpassed their man in absolute incompetence with the spoon. It is one +of those problems where debate is futile. + +Few things draw two men together more surely than a mutual inability to +master golf, coupled with an intense and ever-increasing love for the +game. At the end of the first few months, when a series of costly +experiments had convinced both Peter and James that there was not a +tottering grey-beard nor a toddling infant in the neighbourhood whose +downfall they could encompass, the two became inseparable. It was +pleasanter, they found, to play together, and go neck and neck round +the eighteen holes, than to take on some lissome youngster who could +spatter them all over the course with one old ball and a cut-down cleek +stolen from his father; or some spavined elder who not only rubbed it +into them, but was apt, between strokes, to bore them with personal +reminiscences of the Crimean War. So they began to play together early +and late. In the small hours before breakfast, long ere the first faint +piping of the waking caddie made itself heard from the caddie-shed, +they were half-way through their opening round. And at close of day, +when bats wheeled against the steely sky and the "pro's" had stolen +home to rest, you might see them in the deepening dusk, going through +the concluding exercises of their final spasm. After dark, they visited +each other's houses and read golf books. + +If you have gathered from what I have said that Peter Willard and James +Todd were fond of golf, I am satisfied. That is the impression I +intended to convey. They were real golfers, for real golf is a thing of +the spirit, not of mere mechanical excellence of stroke. + +It must not be thought, however, that they devoted too much of their +time and their thoughts to golf--assuming, indeed, that such a thing is +possible. Each was connected with a business in the metropolis; and +often, before he left for the links, Peter would go to the trouble and +expense of ringing up the office to say he would not be coming in that +day; while I myself have heard James--and this not once, but +frequently--say, while lunching in the club-house, that he had half a +mind to get Gracechurch Street on the 'phone and ask how things were +going. They were, in fact, the type of men of whom England is +proudest--the back-bone of a great country, toilers in the mart, +untired businessmen, keen red-blooded men of affairs. If they played a +little golf besides, who shall blame them? + +So they went on, day by day, happy and contented. And then the Woman +came into their lives, like the Serpent in the Links of Eden, and +perhaps for the first time they realized that they were not one +entity--not one single, indivisible Something that made for topped +drives and short putts--but two individuals, in whose breasts Nature +had implanted other desires than the simple ambition some day to do the +dog-leg hole on the second nine in under double figures. My friends +tell me that, when I am relating a story, my language is inclined at +times a little to obscure my meaning; but, if you understand from what +I have been saying that James Todd and Peter Willard both fell in love +with the same woman--all right, let us carry on. That is precisely what +I was driving at. + +I have not the pleasure of an intimate acquaintance with Grace +Forrester. I have seen her in the distance, watering the flowers in her +garden, and on these occasions her stance struck me as graceful. And +once, at a picnic, I observed her killing wasps with a teaspoon, and +was impressed by the freedom of the wrist-action of her back-swing. +Beyond this, I can say little. But she must have been attractive, for +there can be no doubt of the earnestness with which both Peter and +James fell in love with her. I doubt if either slept a wink the night +of the dance at which it was their privilege first to meet her. + +The next afternoon, happening to encounter Peter in the bunker near the +eleventh green, James said: + +"That was a nice girl, that Miss What's-her-name." + +And Peter, pausing for a moment from his trench-digging, replied: + +"Yes." + +And then James, with a pang, knew that he had a rival, for he had not +mentioned Miss Forrester's name, and yet Peter had divined that it was +to her that he had referred. + +Love is a fever which, so to speak, drives off without wasting time on +the address. On the very next morning after the conversation which I +have related, James Todd rang Peter Willard up on the 'phone and +cancelled their golf engagements for the day, on the plea of a sprained +wrist. Peter, acknowledging the cancellation, stated that he himself +had been on the point of ringing James up to say that he would be +unable to play owing to a slight headache. They met at tea-time at Miss +Forrester's house. James asked how Peter's headache was, and Peter said +it was a little better. Peter inquired after James's sprained wrist, +and was told it seemed on the mend. Miss Forrester dispensed tea and +conversation to both impartially. + +They walked home together. After an awkward silence of twenty minutes, +James said: + +"There is something about the atmosphere--the aura, shall I say?--that +emanates from a good woman that makes a man feel that life has a new, a +different meaning." + +Peter replied: + +"Yes." + +When they reached James's door, James said: + +"I won't ask you in tonight, old man. You want to go home and rest and +cure that headache." + +"Yes," said Peter. + +There was another silence. Peter was thinking that, only a couple of +days before, James had told him that he had a copy of Sandy MacBean's +"How to Become a Scratch Man Your First Season by Studying Photographs" +coming by parcel-post from town, and they had arranged to read it aloud +together. By now, thought Peter, it must be lying on his friend's +table. The thought saddened him. And James, guessing what was in +Peter's mind, was saddened too. But he did not waver. He was in no mood +to read MacBean's masterpiece that night. In the twenty minutes of +silence after leaving Miss Forrester he had realized that "Grace" +rhymes with "face", and he wanted to sit alone in his study and write +poetry. The two men parted with a distant nod. I beg your pardon? Yes, +you are right. Two distant nods. It was always a failing of mine to +count the score erroneously. + +It is not my purpose to weary you by a minute recital of the happenings +of each day that went by. On the surface, the lives of these two men +seemed unchanged. They still played golf together, and during the round +achieved towards each other a manner that, superficially, retained all +its ancient cheeriness and affection. If--I should say--when, James +topped his drive, Peter never failed to say "Hard luck!" And when--or, +rather, if Peter managed not to top his, James invariably said "Great!" +But things were not the same, and they knew it. + +It so happened, as it sometimes will on these occasions, for Fate is a +dramatist who gets his best effects with a small cast, that Peter +Willard and James Todd were the only visible aspirants for the hand of +Miss Forrester. Right at the beginning young Freddie Woosley had seemed +attracted by the girl, and had called once or twice with flowers and +chocolates, but Freddie's affections never centred themselves on one +object for more than a few days, and he had dropped out after the first +week. From that time on it became clear to all of us that, if Grace +Forrester intended to marry anyone in the place, it would be either +James or Peter; and a good deal of interest was taken in the matter by +the local sportsmen. So little was known of the form of the two men, +neither having figured as principal in a love-affair before, that even +money was the best you could get, and the market was sluggish. I think +my own flutter of twelve golf-balls, taken up by Percival Brown, was +the most substantial of any of the wagers. I selected James as the +winner. Why, I can hardly say, unless that he had an aunt who +contributed occasional stories to the "Woman's Sphere". These things +sometimes weigh with a girl. On the other hand, George Lucas, who had +half-a-dozen of ginger-ale on Peter, based his calculations on the fact +that James wore knickerbockers on the links, and that no girl could +possibly love a man with calves like that. In short, you see, we really +had nothing to go on. + +Nor had James and Peter. The girl seemed to like them both equally. +They never saw her except in each other's company. And it was not until +one day when Grace Forrester was knitting a sweater that there seemed a +chance of getting a clue to her hidden feelings. + +When the news began to spread through the place that Grace was knitting +this sweater there was a big sensation. The thing seemed to us +practically to amount to a declaration. + +That was the view that James Todd and Peter Willard took of it, and +they used to call on Grace, watch her knitting, and come away with +their heads full of complicated calculations. The whole thing hung on +one point--to wit, what size the sweater was going to be. If it was +large, then it must be for Peter; if small, then James was the lucky +man. Neither dared to make open inquiries, but it began to seem almost +impossible to find out the truth without them. No masculine eye can +reckon up purls and plains and estimate the size of chest which the +garment is destined to cover. Moreover, with amateur knitters there +must always be allowed a margin for involuntary error. There were many +cases during the war where our girls sent sweaters to their sweethearts +which would have induced strangulation in their young brothers. The +amateur sweater of those days was, in fact, practically tantamount to +German propaganda. + +Peter and James were accordingly baffled. One evening the sweater would +look small, and James would come away jubilant; the next it would have +swollen over a vast area, and Peter would walk home singing. The +suspense of the two men can readily be imagined. On the one hand, they +wanted to know their fate; on the other, they fully realized that +whoever the sweater was for would have to wear it. And, as it was a +vivid pink and would probably not fit by a mile, their hearts quailed +at the prospect. + +In all affairs of human tension there must come a breaking point. It +came one night as the two men were walking home. + +"Peter," said James, stopping in mid-stride. He mopped his forehead. +His manner had been feverish all the evening. + +"Yes?" said Peter. + +"I can't stand this any longer. I haven't had a good night's rest for +weeks. We must find out definitely which of us is to have that +sweater." + +"Let's go back and ask her," said Peter. + +So they turned back and rang the bell and went into the house and +presented themselves before Miss Forrester. + +"Lovely evening," said James, to break the ice. + +"Superb," said Peter. + +"Delightful," said Miss Forrester, looking a little surprised at +finding the troupe playing a return date without having booked it in +advance. + +"To settle a bet," said James, "will you please tell us who--I should +say, whom--you are knitting that sweater for?" + +"It is not a sweater," replied Miss Forrester, with a womanly candour +that well became her. "It is a sock. And it is for my cousin Juliet's +youngest son, Willie." + +"Good night," said James. + +"Good night," said Peter. + +"Good night," said Grace Forrester. + +It was during the long hours of the night, when ideas so often come to +wakeful men, that James was struck by an admirable solution of his and +Peter's difficulty. It seemed to him that, were one or the other to +leave Woodhaven, the survivor would find himself in a position to +conduct his wooing as wooing should be conducted. Hitherto, as I have +indicated, neither had allowed the other to be more than a few minutes +alone with the girl. They watched each other like hawks. When James +called, Peter called. When Peter dropped in, James invariably popped +round. The thing had resolved itself into a stalemate. + +The idea which now came to James was that he and Peter should settle +their rivalry by an eighteen-hole match on the links. He thought very +highly of the idea before he finally went to sleep, and in the morning +the scheme looked just as good to him as it had done overnight. + +James was breakfasting next morning, preparatory to going round to +disclose his plan to Peter, when Peter walked in, looking happier than +he had done for days. + +"'Morning," said James. + +"'Morning," said Peter. + +Peter sat down and toyed absently with a slice of bacon. + +"I've got an idea," he said. + +"One isn't many," said James, bringing his knife down with a jerk-shot +on a fried egg. "What is your idea?" + +"Got it last night as I was lying awake. It struck me that, if either +of us was to clear out of this place, the other would have a fair +chance. You know what I mean--with Her. At present we've got each other +stymied. Now, how would it be," said Peter, abstractedly spreading +marmalade on his bacon, "if we were to play an eighteen-hole match, the +loser to leg out of the neighbourhood and stay away long enough to give +the winner the chance to find out exactly how things stood?" + +James started so violently that he struck himself in the left eye with +his fork. + +"That's exactly the idea I got last night, too." + +"Then it's a go?" + +"It's the only thing to do." + +There was silence for a moment. Both men were thinking. Remember, they +were friends. For years they had shared each other's sorrows, joys, and +golf-balls, and sliced into the same bunkers. + +Presently Peter said: + +"I shall miss you." + +"What do you mean, miss me?" + +"When you're gone. Woodhaven won't seem the same place. But of course +you'll soon be able to come back. I sha'n't waste any time proposing." + +"Leave me your address," said James, "and I'll send you a wire when you +can return. You won't be offended if I don't ask you to be best man at +the wedding? In the circumstances it might be painful to you." + +Peter sighed dreamily. + +"We'll have the sitting-room done in blue. Her eyes are blue." + +"Remember," said James, "there will always be a knife and fork for you +at our little nest. Grace is not the woman to want me to drop my +bachelor friends." + +"Touching this match," said Peter. "Strict Royal and Ancient rules, of +course?" + +"Certainly." + +"I mean to say--no offence, old man--but no grounding niblicks in +bunkers." + +"Precisely. And, without hinting at anything personal, the ball shall +be considered holed-out only when it is in the hole, not when it stops +on the edge." + +"Undoubtedly. And--you know I don't want to hurt your feelings--missing +the ball counts as a stroke, not as a practice-swing." + +"Exactly. And--you'll forgive me if I mention it--a player whose ball +has fallen in the rough, may not pull up all the bushes within a radius +of three feet." + +"In fact, strict rules." + +"Strict rules." + +They shook hands without more words. And presently Peter walked out, +and James, with a guilty look over his shoulder, took down Sandy +MacBean's great work from the bookshelf and began to study the +photograph of the short approach-shot showing Mr. MacBean swinging from +Point A, through dotted line B-C, to Point D, his head the while +remaining rigid at the spot marked with a cross. He felt a little +guiltily that he had stolen a march on his friend, and that the contest +was as good as over. + + * * * * * + +I cannot recall a lovelier summer day than that on which the great +Todd-Willard eighteen-hole match took place. It had rained during the +night, and now the sun shone down from a clear blue sky on to turf that +glistened more greenly than the young grass of early spring. +Butterflies flitted to and fro; birds sang merrily. In short, all +Nature smiled. And it is to be doubted if Nature ever had a better +excuse for smiling--or even laughing outright; for matches like that +between James Todd and Peter Willard do not occur every day. + +Whether it was that love had keyed them up, or whether hours of study +of Braid's "Advanced Golf" and the Badminton Book had produced a +belated effect, I cannot say; but both started off quite reasonably +well. Our first hole, as you can see, is a bogey four, and James was +dead on the pin in seven, leaving Peter, who had twice hit the United +Kingdom with his mashie in mistake for the ball, a difficult putt for +the half. Only one thing could happen when you left Peter a difficult +putt; and James advanced to the lake hole one up, Peter, as he +followed, trying to console himself with the thought that many of the +best golfers prefer to lose the first hole and save themselves for a +strong finish. + +Peter and James had played over the lake hole so often that they had +become accustomed to it, and had grown into the habit of sinking a ball +or two as a preliminary formality with much the same stoicism displayed +by those kings in ancient and superstitious times who used to fling +jewellery into the sea to propitiate it before they took a voyage. But +today, by one of those miracles without which golf would not be golf, +each of them got over with his first shot--and not only over, but dead +on the pin. Our "pro." himself could not have done better. + +I think it was at this point that the two men began to go to pieces. +They were in an excited frame of mind, and this thing unmanned them. +You will no doubt recall Keats's poem about stout Cortez staring with +eagle eyes at the Pacific while all his men gazed at each other with a +wild surmise, silent upon a peak in Darien. Precisely so did Peter +Willard and James Todd stare with eagle eyes at the second lake hole, +and gaze at each other with a wild surmise, silent upon a tee in +Woodhaven. They had dreamed of such a happening so often and woke to +find the vision false, that at first they could not believe that the +thing had actually occurred. + +"I got over!" whispered James, in an awed voice. + +"So did I!" muttered Peter. + +"In one!" + +"With my very first!" + +They walked in silence round the edge of the lake, and holed out. One +putt was enough for each, and they halved the hole with a two. Peter's +previous record was eight, and James had once done a seven. There are +times when strong men lose their self-control, and this was one of +them. They reached the third tee in a daze, and it was here that +mortification began to set in. + +The third hole is another bogey four, up the hill and past the tree +that serves as a direction-post, the hole itself being out of sight. On +his day, James had often done it in ten and Peter in nine; but now they +were unnerved. James, who had the honour, shook visibly as he addressed +his ball. Three times he swung and only connected with the ozone; the +fourth time he topped badly. The discs had been set back a little way, +and James had the mournful distinction of breaking a record for the +course by playing his fifth shot from the tee. It was a low, raking +brassey-shot, which carried a heap of stones twenty feet to the right +and finished in a furrow. Peter, meanwhile, had popped up a lofty ball +which came to rest behind a stone. + +It was now that the rigid rules governing this contest began to take +their toll. Had they been playing an ordinary friendly round, each +would have teed up on some convenient hillock and probably been past +the tree with their second, for James would, in ordinary circumstances, +have taken his drive back and regarded the strokes he had made as a +little preliminary practice to get him into midseason form. But today +it was war to the niblick, and neither man asked nor expected quarter. +Peter's seventh shot dislodged the stone, leaving him a clear field, +and James, with his eleventh, extricated himself from the furrow. Fifty +feet from the tree James was eighteen, Peter twelve; but then the +latter, as every golfer does at times, suddenly went right off his +game. He hit the tree four times, then hooked into the sand-bunkers to +the left of the hole. James, who had been playing a game that was +steady without being brilliant, was on the green in twenty-six, Peter +taking twenty-seven. Poor putting lost James the hole. Peter was down +in thirty-three, but the pace was too hot for James. He missed a +two-foot putt for the half, and they went to the fourth tee all square. + +The fourth hole follows the curve of the road, on the other side of +which are picturesque woods. It presents no difficulties to the expert, +but it has pitfalls for the novice. The dashing player stands for a +slice, while the more cautious are satisfied if they can clear the +bunker that spans the fairway and lay their ball well out to the left, +whence an iron shot will take them to the green. Peter and James +combined the two policies. Peter aimed to the left and got a slice, and +James, also aiming to the left, topped into the bunker. Peter, +realizing from experience the futility of searching for his ball in the +woods, drove a second, which also disappeared into the jungle, as did +his third. By the time he had joined James in the bunker he had played +his sixth. + +It is the glorious uncertainty of golf that makes it the game it is. +The fact that James and Peter, lying side by side in the same bunker, +had played respectively one and six shots, might have induced an +unthinking observer to fancy the chances of the former. And no doubt, +had he not taken seven strokes to extricate himself from the pit, while +his opponent, by some act of God, contrived to get out in two, James's +chances might have been extremely rosy. As it was, the two men +staggered out on to the fairway again with a score of eight apiece. +Once past the bunker and round the bend of the road, the hole becomes +simple. A judicious use of the cleek put Peter on the green in +fourteen, while James, with a Braid iron, reached it in twelve. Peter +was down in seventeen, and James contrived to halve. It was only as he +was leaving the hole that the latter discovered that he had been +putting with his niblick, which cannot have failed to exercise a +prejudicial effect on his game. These little incidents are bound to +happen when one is in a nervous and highly-strung condition. + +The fifth and sixth holes produced no unusual features. Peter won the +fifth in eleven, and James the sixth in ten. The short seventh they +halved in nine. The eighth, always a tricky hole, they took no +liberties with, James, sinking a long putt with his twenty-third, just +managing to halve. A ding-dong race up the hill for the ninth found +James first at the pin, and they finished the first nine with James one +up. + +As they left the green James looked a little furtively at his +companion. + +"You might be strolling on to the tenth," he said. "I want to get a few +balls at the shop. And my mashie wants fixing up. I sha'n't be long." + +"I'll come with you," said Peter. + +"Don't bother," said James. "You go on and hold our place at the tee." + +I regret to say that James was lying. His mashie was in excellent +repair, and he still had a dozen balls in his bag, it being his prudent +practice always to start out with eighteen. No! What he had said was +mere subterfuge. He wanted to go to his locker and snatch a few minutes +with Sandy MacBean's "How to Become a Scratch Man". He felt sure that +one more glance at the photograph of Mr. MacBean driving would give him +the mastery of the stroke and so enable him to win the match. In this I +think he was a little sanguine. The difficulty about Sandy MacBean's +method of tuition was that he laid great stress on the fact that the +ball should be directly in a line with a point exactly in the centre of +the back of the player's neck; and so far James's efforts to keep his +eye on the ball and on the back of his neck simultaneously had produced +no satisfactory results. + + * * * * * + +It seemed to James, when he joined Peter on the tenth tee, that the +latter's manner was strange. He was pale. There was a curious look in +his eye. + +"James, old man," he said. + +"Yes?" said James. + +"While you were away I have been thinking. James, old man, do you +really love this girl?" + +James stared. A spasm of pain twisted Peter's face. + +"Suppose," he said in a low voice, "she were not all you--we--think she +is!" + +"What do you mean?" + +"Nothing, nothing." + +"Miss Forrester is an angel." + +"Yes, yes. Quite so." + +"I know what it is," said James, passionately. "You're trying to put me +off my stroke. You know that the least thing makes me lose my form." + +"No, no!" + +"You hope that you can take my mind off the game and make me go to +pieces, and then you'll win the match." + +"On the contrary," said Peter. "I intend to forfeit the match." + +James reeled. + +"What!" + +"I give up." + +"But--but----" James shook with emotion. His voice quavered. "Ah!" he +cried. "I see now: I understand! You are doing this for me because I am +your pal. Peter, this is noble! This is the sort of thing you read +about in books. I've seen it in the movies. But I can't accept the +sacrifice." + +"You must!" + +"No, no!" + +"I insist!" + +"Do you mean this?" + +"I give her up, James, old man. I--I hope you will be happy." + +"But I don't know what to say. How can I thank you?" + +"Don't thank me." + +"But, Peter, do you fully realize what you are doing? True, I am one +up, but there are nine holes to go, and I am not right on my game +today. You might easily beat me. Have you forgotten that I once took +forty-seven at the dog-leg hole? This may be one of my bad days. Do you +understand that if you insist on giving up I shall go to Miss Forrester +tonight and propose to her?" + +"I understand." + +"And yet you stick to it that you are through?" + +"I do. And, by the way, there's no need for you to wait till tonight. +I saw Miss Forrester just now outside the tennis court. She's alone." + +James turned crimson. + +"Then I think perhaps----" + +"You'd better go to her at once." + +"I will." James extended his hand. "Peter, old man, I shall never +forget this." + +"That's all right." + +"What are you going to do?" + +"Now, do you mean? Oh, I shall potter round the second nine. If you +want me, you'll find me somewhere about." + +"You'll come to the wedding, Peter?" said James, wistfully. + +"Of course," said Peter. "Good luck." + +He spoke cheerily, but, when the other had turned to go, he stood +looking after him thoughtfully. Then he sighed a heavy sigh. + + * * * * * + +James approached Miss Forrester with a beating heart. She made a +charming picture as she stood there in the sunlight, one hand on her +hip, the other swaying a tennis racket. + +"How do you do?" said James. + +"How are you, Mr. Todd? Have you been playing golf?" + +"Yes." + +"With Mr. Willard?" + +"Yes. We were having a match." + +"Golf," said Grace Forrester, "seems to make men very rude. Mr. Willard +left me without a word in the middle of our conversation." + +James was astonished. + +"Were you talking to Peter?" + +"Yes. Just now. I can't understand what was the matter with him. He +just turned on his heel and swung off." + +"You oughtn't to turn on your heel when you swing," said James; "only +on the ball of the foot." + +"I beg your pardon?" + +"Nothing, nothing. I wasn't thinking. The fact is, I've something on my +mind. So has Peter. You mustn't think too hardly of him. We have been +playing an important match, and it must have got on his nerves. You +didn't happen by any chance to be watching us?" + +"No." + +"Ah! I wish you had seen me at the lake-hole. I did it one under par." + +"Was your father playing?" + +"You don't understand. I mean I did it in one better than even the +finest player is supposed to do it. It's a mashie-shot, you know. You +mustn't play too light, or you fall in the lake; and you mustn't play +it too hard, or you go past the hole into the woods. It requires the +nicest delicacy and judgment, such as I gave it. You might have to wait +a year before seeing anyone do it in two again. I doubt if the 'pro.' +often does it in two. Now, directly we came to this hole today, I made +up my mind that there was going to be no mistake. The great secret of +any shot at golf is ease, elegance, and the ability to relax. The +majority of men, you will find, think it important that their address +should be good." + +"How snobbish! What does it matter where a man lives?" + +"You don't absolutely follow me. I refer to the waggle and the stance +before you make the stroke. Most players seem to fix in their minds the +appearance of the angles which are presented by the position of the +arms, legs, and club shaft, and it is largely the desire to retain +these angles which results in their moving their heads and stiffening +their muscles so that there is no freedom in the swing. There is only +one point which vitally affects the stroke, and the only reason why +that should be kept constant is that you are enabled to see your ball +clearly. That is the pivotal point marked at the base of the neck, and +a line drawn from this point to the ball should be at right angles to +the line of flight." + +James paused for a moment for air, and as he paused Miss Forrester +spoke. + +"This is all gibberish to me," she said. + +"Gibberish!" gasped James. "I am quoting verbatim from one of the best +authorities on golf." + +Miss Forrester swung her tennis racket irritably. + +"Golf," she said, "bores me pallid. I think it is the silliest game +ever invented!" + +The trouble about telling a story is that words are so feeble a means +of depicting the supreme moments of life. That is where the artist has +the advantage over the historian. Were I an artist, I should show James +at this point falling backwards with his feet together and his eyes +shut, with a semi-circular dotted line marking the progress of his +flight and a few stars above his head to indicate moral collapse. There +are no words that can adequately describe the sheer, black horror that +froze the blood in his veins as this frightful speech smote his ears. + +He had never inquired into Miss Forrester's religious views before, but +he had always assumed that they were sound. And now here she was +polluting the golden summer air with the most hideous blasphemy. It +would be incorrect to say that James's love was turned to hate. He did +not hate Grace. The repulsion he felt was deeper than mere hate. What +he felt was not altogether loathing and not wholly pity. It was a blend +of the two. + +There was a tense silence. The listening world stood still. Then, +without a word, James Todd turned and tottered away. + + * * * * * + +Peter was working moodily in the twelfth bunker when his friend +arrived. He looked up with a start. Then, seeing that the other was +alone, he came forward hesitatingly. + +"Am I to congratulate you?" + +James breathed a deep breath. + +"You are!" he said. "On an escape!" + +"She refused you?" + +"She didn't get the chance. Old man, have you ever sent one right up +the edge of that bunker in front of the seventh and just not gone in?" + +"Very rarely." + +"I did once. It was my second shot, from a good lie, with the light +iron, and I followed well through and thought I had gone just too far, +and, when I walked up, there was my ball on the edge of the bunker, +nicely teed up on a chunk of grass, so that I was able to lay it dead +with my mashie-niblick, holing out in six. Well, what I mean to say is, +I feel now as I felt then--as if some unseen power had withheld me in +time from some frightful disaster." + +"I know just how you feel," said Peter, gravely. + +"Peter, old man, that girl said golf bored her pallid. She said she +thought it was the silliest game ever invented." He paused to mark the +effect of his words. Peter merely smiled a faint, wan smile. "You don't +seem revolted," said James. + +"I am revolted, but not surprised. You see, she said the same thing to +me only a few minutes before." + +"She did!" + +"It amounted to the same thing. I had just been telling her how I did +the lake-hole today in two, and she said that in her opinion golf was a +game for children with water on the brain who weren't athletic enough +to play Animal Grab." + +The two men shivered in sympathy. + +"There must be insanity in the family," said James at last. + +"That," said Peter, "is the charitable explanation." + +"We were fortunate to find it out in time." + +"We were!" + +"We mustn't run a risk like that again." + +"Never again!" + +"I think we had better take up golf really seriously. It will keep us +out of mischief." + +"You're quite right. We ought to do our four rounds a day regularly." + +"In spring, summer, and autumn. And in winter it would be rash not to +practise most of the day at one of those indoor schools." + +"We ought to be safe that way." + +"Peter, old man," said James, "I've been meaning to speak to you about +it for some time. I've got Sandy MacBean's new book, and I think you +ought to read it. It is full of helpful hints." + +"James!" + +"Peter!" + +Silently the two men clasped hands. James Todd and Peter Willard were +themselves again. + + * * * * * + +And so (said the Oldest Member) we come back to our original +starting-point--to wit, that, while there is nothing to be said +definitely against love, your golfer should be extremely careful how he +indulges in it. It may improve his game or it may not. But, if he finds +that there is any danger that it may not--if the object of his +affections is not the kind of girl who will listen to him with cheerful +sympathy through the long evenings, while he tells her, illustrating +stance and grip and swing with the kitchen poker, each detail of the +day's round--then, I say unhesitatingly, he had better leave it alone. +Love has had a lot of press-agenting from the oldest times; but there +are higher, nobler things than love. A woman is only a woman, but a +hefty drive is a slosh. + + + + +3 + +_A Mixed Threesome_ + + +It was the holiday season, and during the holidays the Greens +Committees have decided that the payment of twenty guineas shall +entitle fathers of families not only to infest the course themselves, +but also to decant their nearest and dearest upon it in whatever +quantity they please. All over the links, in consequence, happy, +laughing groups of children had broken out like a rash. A wan-faced +adult, who had been held up for ten minutes while a drove of issue +quarrelled over whether little Claude had taken two hundred or two +hundred and twenty approach shots to reach the ninth green sank into a +seat beside the Oldest Member. + +"What luck?" inquired the Sage. + +"None to speak of," returned the other, moodily. "I thought I had +bagged a small boy in a Lord Fauntleroy suit on the sixth, but he +ducked. These children make me tired. They should be bowling their +hoops in the road. Golf is a game for grownups. How can a fellow play, +with a platoon of progeny blocking him at every hole?" + +The Oldest Member shook his head. He could not subscribe to these +sentiments. + +No doubt (said the Oldest Member) the summer golf-child is, from the +point of view of the player who likes to get round the course in a +single afternoon, something of a trial; but, personally, I confess, it +pleases me to see my fellow human beings--and into this category +golf-children, though at the moment you may not be broad-minded enough +to admit it, undoubtedly fall--taking to the noblest of games at an +early age. Golf, like measles, should be caught young, for, if +postponed to riper years, the results may be serious. Let me tell you +the story of Mortimer Sturgis, which illustrates what I mean rather +aptly. + +Mortimer Sturgis, when I first knew him, was a care-free man of +thirty-eight, of amiable character and independent means, which he +increased from time to time by judicious ventures on the Stock +Exchange. Although he had never played golf, his had not been +altogether an ill-spent life. He swung a creditable racket at tennis, +was always ready to contribute a baritone solo to charity concerts, and +gave freely to the poor. He was what you might call a golden-mean man, +good-hearted rather than magnetic, with no serious vices and no heroic +virtues. For a hobby, he had taken up the collecting of porcelain +vases, and he was engaged to Betty Weston, a charming girl of +twenty-five, a lifelong friend of mine. + +I like Mortimer. Everybody liked him. But, at the same time, I was a +little surprised that a girl like Betty should have become engaged to +him. As I said before, he was not magnetic; and magnetism, I thought, +was the chief quality she would have demanded in a man. Betty was one +of those ardent, vivid girls, with an intense capacity for +hero-worship, and I would have supposed that something more in the +nature of a plumed knight or a corsair of the deep would have been her +ideal. But, of course, if there is a branch of modern industry where +the demand is greater than the supply, it is the manufacture of knights +and corsairs; and nowadays a girl, however flaming her aspirations, has +to take the best she can get. I must admit that Betty seemed perfectly +content with Mortimer. + +Such, then, was the state of affairs when Eddie Denton arrived, and the +trouble began. + +I was escorting Betty home one evening after a tea-party at which we +had been fellow-guests, when, walking down the road, we happened to +espy Mortimer. He broke into a run when he saw us, and galloped up, +waving a piece of paper in his hand. He was plainly excited, a thing +which was unusual in this well-balanced man. His broad, good-humoured +face was working violently. + +"Good news!" he cried. "Good news! Dear old Eddie's back!" + +"Oh, how nice for you, dear!" said Betty. "Eddie Denton is Mortimer's +best friend," she explained to me. "He has told me so much about him. I +have been looking forward to his coming home. Mortie thinks the world +of him." + +"So will you, when you know him," cried Mortimer. "Dear old Eddie! He's +a wonder! The best fellow on earth! We were at school and the 'Varsity +together. There's nobody like Eddie! He landed yesterday. Just home +from Central Africa. He's an explorer, you know," he said to me. +"Spends all his time in places where it's death for a white man to go." + +"An explorer!" I heard Betty breathe, as if to herself. I was not so +impressed, I fear, as she was. Explorers, as a matter of fact, leave me +a trifle cold. It has always seemed to me that the difficulties of +their life are greatly exaggerated--generally by themselves. In a large +country like Africa, for instance, I should imagine that it was almost +impossible for a man not to get somewhere if he goes on long enough. +Give _me_ the fellow who can plunge into the bowels of the earth +at Piccadilly Circus and find the right Tube train with nothing but a +lot of misleading signs to guide him. However, we are not all +constituted alike in this world, and it was apparent from the flush on +her cheek and the light in her eyes that Betty admired explorers. + +"I wired to him at once," went on Mortimer, "and insisted on his coming +down here. It's two years since I saw him. You don't know how I have +looked forward, dear, to you and Eddie meeting. He is just your sort. I +know how romantic you are and keen on adventure and all that. Well, +you should hear Eddie tell the story of how he brought down the +bull _bongo_ with his last cartridge after all the _pongos_, or +native bearers, had fled into the _dongo_, or undergrowth." + +"I should love to!" whispered Betty, her eyes glowing. I suppose to an +impressionable girl these things really are of absorbing interest. For +myself, _bongos_ intrigue me even less than _pongos_, while +_dongos_ frankly bore me. "When do you expect him?" + +"He will get my wire tonight. I'm hoping we shall see the dear old +fellow tomorrow afternoon some time. How surprised old Eddie will be to +hear that I'm engaged. He's such a confirmed bachelor himself. He told +me once that he considered the wisest thing ever said by human tongue +was the Swahili proverb--'Whoso taketh a woman into his kraal +depositeth himself straightway in the _wongo_.' _Wongo_, he +tells me, is a sort of broth composed of herbs and meat-bones, +corresponding to our soup. You must get Eddie to give it you in the +original Swahili. It sounds even better." + +I saw the girl's eyes flash, and there came into her face that peculiar +set expression which married men know. It passed in an instant, but not +before it had given me material for thought which lasted me all the way +to my house and into the silent watches of the night. I was fond of +Mortimer Sturgis, and I could see trouble ahead for him as plainly as +though I had been a palmist reading his hand at two guineas a visit. +There are other proverbs fully as wise as the one which Mortimer had +translated from the Swahili, and one of the wisest is that quaint old +East London saying, handed down from one generation of costermongers to +another, and whispered at midnight in the wigwams of the whelk-seller! +"Never introduce your donah to a pal." In those seven words is +contained the wisdom of the ages. I could read the future so plainly. +What but one thing could happen after Mortimer had influenced Betty's +imagination with his stories of his friend's romantic career, and added +the finishing touch by advertising him as a woman-hater? He might just +as well have asked for his ring back at once. My heart bled for +Mortimer. + + * * * * + +I happened to call at his house on the second evening of the explorer's +visit, and already the mischief had been done. + +Denton was one of those lean, hard-bitten men with smouldering eyes and +a brick-red complexion. He looked what he was, the man of action and +enterprise. He had the wiry frame and strong jaw without which no +explorer is complete, and Mortimer, beside him, seemed but a poor, soft +product of our hot-house civilization. Mortimer, I forgot to say, wore +glasses; and, if there is one time more than another when a man should +not wear glasses, it is while a strong-faced, keen-eyed wanderer in the +wilds is telling a beautiful girl the story of his adventures. + +For this was what Denton was doing. My arrival seemed to have +interrupted him in the middle of narrative. He shook my hand in a +strong, silent sort of way, and resumed: + +"Well, the natives seemed fairly friendly, so I decided to stay the +night." + +I made a mental note never to seem fairly friendly to an explorer. If +you do, he always decides to stay the night. + +"In the morning they took me down to the river. At this point it widens +into a _kongo_, or pool, and it was here, they told me, that the +crocodile mostly lived, subsisting on the native oxen--the short-horned +_jongos_--which, swept away by the current while crossing the ford +above, were carried down on the _longos_, or rapids. It was not, +however, till the second evening that I managed to catch sight of his +ugly snout above the surface. I waited around, and on the third day I +saw him suddenly come out of the water and heave his whole length on to +a sandbank in mid-stream and go to sleep in the sun. He was certainly a +monster--fully thirty--you have never been in Central Africa, have you, +Miss Weston? No? You ought to go there!--fully fifty feet from tip to +tail. There he lay, glistening. I shall never forget the sight." + +He broke off to light a cigarette. I heard Betty draw in her breath +sharply. Mortimer was beaming through his glasses with the air of the +owner of a dog which is astonishing a drawing-room with its clever +tricks. + +"And what did you do then, Mr. Denton?" asked Betty, breathlessly. + +"Yes, what did you do then, old chap?" said Mortimer. + +Denton blew out the match and dropped it on the ash-tray. + +"Eh? Oh," he said, carelessly, "I swam across and shot him." + +"Swam across and shot him!" + +"Yes. It seemed to me that the chance was too good to be missed. Of +course, I might have had a pot at him from the bank, but the chances +were I wouldn't have hit him in a vital place. So I swam across to the +sandbank, put the muzzle of my gun in his mouth, and pulled the +trigger. I have rarely seen a crocodile so taken aback." + +"But how dreadfully dangerous!" + +"Oh, danger!" Eddie Denton laughed lightly. "One drops into the habit +of taking a few risks out there, you know. Talking of _danger_, +the time when things really did look a little nasty was when the +wounded _gongo_ cornered me in a narrow _tongo_ and I only had +a pocket-knife with everything in it broken except the corkscrew +and the thing for taking stones out of horses' hoofs. It was like +this----" + +I could bear no more. I am a tender-hearted man, and I made some excuse +and got away. From the expression on the girl's face I could see that +it was only a question of days before she gave her heart to this +romantic newcomer. + + * * * * * + +As a matter of fact, it was on the following afternoon that she called +on me and told me that the worst had happened. I had known her from a +child, you understand, and she always confided her troubles to me. + +"I want your advice," she began. "I'm so wretched!" + +She burst into tears. I could see the poor girl was in a highly nervous +condition, so I did my best to calm her by describing how I had once +done the long hole in four. My friends tell me that there is no finer +soporific, and it seemed as though they may be right, for presently, +just as I had reached the point where I laid my approach-putt dead from +a distance of fifteen feet, she became quieter. She dried her eyes, +yawned once or twice, and looked at me bravely. + +"I love Eddie Denton!" she said. + +"I feared as much. When did you feel this coming on?" + +"It crashed on me like a thunderbolt last night after dinner. We were +walking in the garden, and he was just telling me how he had been +bitten by a poisonous _zongo_, when I seemed to go all giddy. When +I came to myself I was in Eddie's arms. His face was pressed against +mine, and he was gargling." + +"Gargling?" + +"I thought so at first. But he reassured me. He was merely speaking in +one of the lesser-known dialects of the Walla-Walla natives of Eastern +Uganda, into which he always drops in moments of great emotion. He soon +recovered sufficiently to give me a rough translation, and then I knew +that he loved me. He kissed me. I kissed him. We kissed each other." + +"And where was Mortimer all this while?" + +"Indoors, cataloguing his collection of vases." + +For a moment, I confess, I was inclined to abandon Mortimer's cause. A +man, I felt, who could stay indoors cataloguing vases while his +_fiancee_ wandered in the moonlight with explorers deserved all +that was coming to him. I overcame the feeling. + +"Have you told him?" + +"Of course not." + +"You don't think it might be of interest to him?" + +"How can I tell him? It would break his heart. I am awfully fond of +Mortimer. So is Eddie. We would both die rather than do anything to +hurt him. Eddie is the soul of honour. He agrees with me that Mortimer +must never know." + +"Then you aren't going to break off your engagement?" + +"I couldn't. Eddie feels the same. He says that, unless something can +be done, he will say good-bye to me and creep far, far away to some +distant desert, and there, in the great stillness, broken only by the +cry of the prowling _yongo_, try to forget." + +"When you say 'unless something can be done,' what do you mean? What +can be done?" + +"I thought you might have something to suggest. Don't you think it +possible that somehow Mortimer might take it into his head to break the +engagement himself?" + +"Absurd! He loves you devotedly." + +"I'm afraid so. Only the other day I dropped one of his best vases, and +he just smiled and said it didn't matter." + +"I can give you even better proof than that. This morning Mortimer came +to me and asked me to give him secret lessons in golf." + +"Golf! But he despises golf." + +"Exactly. But he is going to learn it for your sake." + +"But why secret lessons?" + +"Because he wants to keep it a surprise for your birthday. Now can you +doubt his love?" + +"I am not worthy of him!" she whispered. + +The words gave me an idea. + +"Suppose," I said, "we could convince Mortimer of that!" + +"I don't understand." + +"Suppose, for instance, he could be made to believe that you were, let +us say, a dipsomaniac." + +She shook her head. "He knows that already." + +"What!" + +"Yes; I told him I sometimes walked in my sleep." + +"I mean a secret drinker." + +"Nothing will induce me to pretend to be a secret drinker." + +"Then a drug-fiend?" I suggested, hopefully. + +"I hate medicine." + +"I have it!" I said. "A kleptomaniac." + +"What is that?" + +"A person who steals things." + +"Oh, that's horrid." + +"Not at all. It's a perfectly ladylike thing to do. You don't know you +do it." + +"But, if I don't know I do it, how do I know I do it?" + +"I beg your pardon?" + +"I mean, how can I tell Mortimer I do it if I don't know?" + +"You don't tell him. I will tell him. I will inform him tomorrow that +you called on me this afternoon and stole my watch and"--I glanced +about the room--"my silver matchbox." + +"I'd rather have that little vinaigrette." + +"You don't get either. I merely say you stole it. What will happen?" + +"Mortimer will hit you with a cleek." + +"Not at all. I am an old man. My white hairs protect me. What he will +do is to insist on confronting me with you and asking you to deny the +foul charge." + +"And then?" + +"Then you admit it and release him from his engagement." + +She sat for a while in silence. I could see that my words had made an +impression. + +"I think it's a splendid idea. Thank you very much." She rose and moved +to the door. "I knew you would suggest something wonderful." She +hesitated. "You don't think it would make it sound more plausible if I +really took the vinaigrette?" she added, a little wistfully. + +"It would spoil everything," I replied, firmly, as I reached for the +vinaigrette and locked it carefully in my desk. + +She was silent for a moment, and her glance fell on the carpet. That, +however, did not worry me. It was nailed down. + +"Well, good-bye," she said. + +"_Au revoir_," I replied. "I am meeting Mortimer at six-thirty +tomorrow. You may expect us round at your house at about eight." + + * * * * * + +Mortimer was punctual at the tryst next morning. When I reached the +tenth tee he was already there. We exchanged a brief greeting and I +handed him a driver, outlined the essentials of grip and swing, and +bade him go to it. + +"It seems a simple game," he said, as he took his stance. "You're sure +it's fair to have the ball sitting up on top of a young sand-hill like +this?" + +"Perfectly fair." + +"I mean, I don't want to be coddled because I'm a beginner." + +"The ball is always teed up for the drive," I assured him. + +"Oh, well, if you say so. But it seems to me to take all the element of +sport out of the game. Where do I hit it?" + +"Oh, straight ahead." + +"But isn't it dangerous? I mean, suppose I smash a window in that house +over there?" + +He indicated a charming bijou residence some five hundred yards down +the fairway. + +"In that case," I replied, "the owner comes out in his pyjamas and +offers you the choice between some nuts and a cigar." + +He seemed reassured, and began to address the ball. Then he paused +again. + +"Isn't there something you say before you start?" he asked. "'Five', or +something?" + +"You may say 'Fore!' if it makes you feel any easier. But it isn't +necessary." + +"If I am going to learn this silly game," said Mortimer, firmly, "I am +going to learn it _right_. Fore!" + +I watched him curiously. I never put a club into the hand of a beginner +without something of the feeling of the sculptor who surveys a mass of +shapeless clay. I experience the emotions of a creator. Here, I say to +myself, is a semi-sentient being into whose soulless carcass I am +breathing life. A moment before, he was, though technically living, a +mere clod. A moment hence he will be a golfer. + +While I was still occupied with these meditations Mortimer swung at the +ball. The club, whizzing down, brushed the surface of the rubber +sphere, toppling it off the tee and propelling it six inches with a +slight slice on it. + +"Damnation!" said Mortimer, unravelling himself. + +I nodded approvingly. His drive had not been anything to write to the +golfing journals about, but he was picking up the technique of the +game. + +"What happened then?" + +I told him in a word. + +"Your stance was wrong, and your grip was wrong, and you moved your +head, and swayed your body, and took your eye off the ball, and +pressed, and forgot to use your wrists, and swung back too fast, and +let the hands get ahead of the club, and lost your balance, and omitted +to pivot on the ball of the left foot, and bent your right knee." + +He was silent for a moment. + +"There is more in this pastime," he said, "than the casual observer +would suspect." + +I have noticed, and I suppose other people have noticed, that in the +golf education of every man there is a definite point at which he may +be said to have crossed the dividing line--the Rubicon, as it +were--that separates the golfer from the non-golfer. This moment comes +immediately after his first good drive. In the ninety minutes in which +I instructed Mortimer Sturgis that morning in the rudiments of the +game, he made every variety of drive known to science; but it was not +till we were about to leave that he made a good one. + +A moment before he had surveyed his blistered hands with sombre +disgust. + +"It's no good," he said. "I shall never learn this beast of a game. And +I don't want to either. It's only fit for lunatics. Where's the sense +in it? Hitting a rotten little ball with a stick! If I want exercise, +I'll take a stick and go and rattle it along the railings. There's +something _in_ that! Well, let's be getting along. No good wasting +the whole morning out here." + +"Try one more drive, and then we'll go." + +"All right. If you like. No sense in it, though." + +He teed up the ball, took a careless stance, and flicked moodily. There +was a sharp crack, the ball shot off the tee, flew a hundred yards in a +dead straight line never ten feet above the ground, soared another +seventy yards in a graceful arc, struck the turf, rolled, and came to +rest within easy mashie distance of the green. + +"Splendid!" I cried. + +The man seemed stunned. + +"How did that happen?" + +I told him very simply. + +"Your stance was right, and your grip was right, and you kept your head +still, and didn't sway your body, and never took your eye off the ball, +and slowed back, and let the arms come well through, and rolled the +wrists, and let the club-head lead, and kept your balance, and pivoted +on the ball of the left foot, and didn't duck the right knee." + +"I see," he said. "Yes, I thought that must be it." + +"Now let's go home." + +"Wait a minute. I just want to remember what I did while it's fresh in +my mind. Let me see, this was the way I stood. Or was it more like +this? No, like this." He turned to me, beaming. "What a great idea it +was, my taking up golf! It's all nonsense what you read in the comic +papers about people foozling all over the place and breaking clubs and +all that. You've only to exercise a little reasonable care. And what a +corking game it is! Nothing like it in the world! I wonder if Betty is +up yet. I must go round and show her how I did that drive. A perfect +swing, with every ounce of weight, wrist, and muscle behind it. I meant +to keep it a secret from the dear girl till I had really learned, but +of course I _have_ learned now. Let's go round and rout her out." + +He had given me my cue. I put my hand on his shoulder and spoke +sorrowfully. + +"Mortimer, my boy, I fear I have bad news for you." + +"Slow; back--keep the head---- What's that? Bad news?" + +"About Betty." + +"About Betty? What about her? Don't sway the body--keep the eye on +the----" + +"Prepare yourself for a shock, my boy. Yesterday afternoon Betty called +to see me. When she had gone I found that she had stolen my silver +matchbox." + +"Stolen your matchbox?" + +"Stolen my matchbox." + +"Oh, well, I dare say there were faults on both sides," said Mortimer. +"Tell me if I sway my body this time." + +"You don't grasp what I have said! Do you realize that Betty, the girl +you are going to marry, is a kleptomaniac?" + +"A kleptomaniac!" + +"That is the only possible explanation. Think what this means, my boy. +Think how you will feel every time your wife says she is going out to +do a little shopping! Think of yourself, left alone at home, watching +the clock, saying to yourself, 'Now she is lifting a pair of silk +stockings!' 'Now she is hiding gloves in her umbrella!' 'Just about +this moment she is getting away with a pearl necklace!'" + +"Would she do that?" + +"She would! She could not help herself. Or, rather, she could not +refrain from helping herself. How about it, my boy?" + +"It only draws us closer together," he said. + +I was touched, I own. My scheme had failed, but it had proved Mortimer +Sturgis to be of pure gold. He stood gazing down the fairway, wrapped +in thought. + +"By the way," he said, meditatively, "I wonder if the dear girl ever +goes to any of those sales--those auction-sales, you know, where you're +allowed to inspect the things the day before? They often have some +pretty decent vases." + +He broke off and fell into a reverie. + + * * * * * + +From this point onward Mortimer Sturgis proved the truth of what I said +to you about the perils of taking up golf at an advanced age. A +lifetime of observing my fellow-creatures has convinced me that Nature +intended us all to be golfers. In every human being the germ of golf is +implanted at birth, and suppression causes it to grow and grow till--it +may be at forty, fifty, sixty--it suddenly bursts its bonds and sweeps +over the victim like a tidal wave. The wise man, who begins to play in +childhood, is enabled to let the poison exude gradually from his +system, with no harmful results. But a man like Mortimer Sturgis, with +thirty-eight golfless years behind him, is swept off his feet. He is +carried away. He loses all sense of proportion. He is like the fly that +happens to be sitting on the wall of the dam just when the crack comes. + +Mortimer Sturgis gave himself up without a struggle to an orgy of golf +such as I have never witnessed in any man. Within two days of that +first lesson he had accumulated a collection of clubs large enough to +have enabled him to open a shop; and he went on buying them at the rate +of two and three a day. On Sundays, when it was impossible to buy +clubs, he was like a lost spirit. True, he would do his regular four +rounds on the day of rest, but he never felt happy. The thought, as he +sliced into the rough, that the patent wooden-faced cleek which he +intended to purchase next morning might have made all the difference, +completely spoiled his enjoyment. + +I remember him calling me up on the telephone at three o'clock one +morning to tell me that he had solved the problem of putting. He +intended in future, he said, to use a croquet mallet, and he wondered +that no one had ever thought of it before. The sound of his broken +groan when I informed him that croquet mallets were against the rules +haunted me for days. + +His golf library kept pace with his collection of clubs. He bought all +the standard works, subscribed to all the golfing papers, and, when he +came across a paragraph in a magazine to the effect that Mr. Hutchings, +an ex-amateur champion, did not begin to play till he was past forty, +and that his opponent in the final, Mr. S. H. Fry, had never held a club +till his thirty-fifth year, he had it engraved on vellum and framed and +hung up beside his shaving-mirror. + + * * * * * + +And Betty, meanwhile? She, poor child, stared down the years into a +bleak future, in which she saw herself parted for ever from the man she +loved, and the golf-widow of another for whom--even when he won a medal +for lowest net at a weekly handicap with a score of a hundred and three +minus twenty-four--she could feel nothing warmer than respect. Those +were dreary days for Betty. We three--she and I and Eddie Denton--often +talked over Mortimer's strange obsession. Denton said that, except that +Mortimer had not come out in pink spots, his symptoms were almost +identical with those of the dreaded _mongo-mongo_, the scourge of +the West African hinterland. Poor Denton! He had already booked his +passage for Africa, and spent hours looking in the atlas for good +deserts. + +In every fever of human affairs there comes at last the crisis. We may +emerge from it healed or we may plunge into still deeper depths of +soul-sickness; but always the crisis comes. I was privileged to be +present when it came in the affairs of Mortimer Sturgis and Betty +Weston. + +I had gone into the club-house one afternoon at an hour when it is +usually empty, and the first thing I saw, as I entered the main room, +which looks out on the ninth green, was Mortimer. He was grovelling on +the floor, and I confess that, when I caught sight of him, my heart +stood still. I feared that his reason, sapped by dissipation, had given +way. I knew that for weeks, day in and day out, the niblick had hardly +ever been out of his hand, and no constitution can stand that. + +He looked up as he heard my footstep. + +"Hallo," he said. "Can you see a ball anywhere?" + +"A ball?" I backed away, reaching for the door-handle. "My dear boy," I +said, soothingly, "you have made a mistake. Quite a natural mistake. +One anybody would have made. But, as a matter of fact, this is the +club-house. The links are outside there. Why not come away with me very +quietly and let us see if we can't find some balls on the links? If you +will wait here a moment, I will call up Doctor Smithson. He was telling +me only this morning that he wanted a good spell of ball-hunting to put +him in shape. You don't mind if he joins us?" + +"It was a Silver King with my initials on it," Mortimer went on, not +heeding me. "I got on the ninth green in eleven with a nice +mashie-niblick, but my approach-putt was a little too strong. It came +in through that window." + +I perceived for the first time that one of the windows facing the +course was broken, and my relief was great. I went down on my knees and +helped him in his search. We ran the ball to earth finally inside the +piano. + +"What's the local rule?" inquired Mortimer. "Must I play it where it +lies, or may I tee up and lose a stroke? If I have to play it where it +lies, I suppose a niblick would be the club?" + +It was at this moment that Betty came in. One glance at her pale, set +face told me that there was to be a scene, and I would have retired, +but that she was between me and the door. + +"Hallo, dear," said Mortimer, greeting her with a friendly waggle of +his niblick. "I'm bunkered in the piano. My approach-putt was a little +strong, and I over-ran the green." + +"Mortimer," said the girl, tensely, "I want to ask you one question." + +"Yes, dear? I wish, darling, you could have seen my drive at the eighth +just now. It was a pip!" + +Betty looked at him steadily. + +"Are we engaged," she said, "or are we not?" + +"Engaged? Oh, to be married? Why, of course. I tried the open stance +for a change, and----" + +"This morning you promised to take me for a ride. You never appeared. +Where were you?" + +"Just playing golf." + +"Golf! I'm sick of the very name!" + +A spasm shook Mortimer. + +"You mustn't let people hear you saying things like that!" he said. "I +somehow felt, the moment I began my up-swing, that everything was going +to be all right. I----" + +"I'll give you one more chance. Will you take me for a drive in your +car this evening?" + +"I can't." + +"Why not? What are you doing?" + +"Just playing golf!" + +"I'm tired of being neglected like this!" cried Betty, stamping her +foot. Poor girl, I saw her point of view. It was bad enough for her +being engaged to the wrong man, without having him treat her as a mere +acquaintance. Her conscience fighting with her love for Eddie Denton +had kept her true to Mortimer, and Mortimer accepted the sacrifice with +an absent-minded carelessness which would have been galling to any +girl. "We might just as well not be engaged at all. You never take me +anywhere." + +"I asked you to come with me to watch the Open Championship." + +"Why don't you ever take me to dances?" + +"I can't dance." + +"You could learn." + +"But I'm not sure if dancing is a good thing for a fellow's game. You +never hear of any first-class pro. dancing. James Braid doesn't dance." + +"Well, my mind's made up. Mortimer, you must choose between golf and +me." + +"But, darling, I went round in a hundred and one yesterday. You can't +expect a fellow to give up golf when he's at the top of his game." + +"Very well. I have nothing more to say. Our engagement is at an end." + +"Don't throw me over, Betty," pleaded Mortimer, and there was that in +his voice which cut me to the heart. "You'll make me so miserable. And, +when I'm miserable, I always slice my approach shots." + +Betty Weston drew herself up. Her face was hard. + +"Here is your ring!" she said, and swept from the room. + + * * * * * + +For a moment after she had gone Mortimer remained very still, looking +at the glistening circle in his hand. I stole across the room and +patted his shoulder. + +"Bear up, my boy, bear up!" I said. + +He looked at me piteously. + +"Stymied!" he muttered. + +"Be brave!" + +He went on, speaking as if to himself. + +"I had pictured--ah, how often I had pictured!--our little home! Hers +and mine. She sewing in her arm-chair, I practising putts on the +hearth-rug----" He choked. "While in the corner, little Harry Vardon +Sturgis played with little J. H. Taylor Sturgis. And round the +room--reading, busy with their childish tasks--little George Duncan +Sturgis, Abe Mitchell Sturgis, Harold Hilton Sturgis, Edward Ray +Sturgis, Horace Hutchinson Sturgis, and little James Braid Sturgis." + +"My boy! My boy!" I cried. + +"What's the matter?" + +"Weren't you giving yourself rather a large family?" + +He shook his head moodily. + +"Was I?" he said, dully. "I don't know. What's bogey?" + +There was a silence. + +"And yet----" he said, at last, in a low voice. He paused. An odd, +bright look had come into his eyes. He seemed suddenly to be himself +again, the old, happy Mortimer Sturgis I had known so well. "And yet," +he said, "who knows? Perhaps it is all for the best. They might all +have turned out tennis-players!" He raised his niblick again, his face +aglow. "Playing thirteen!" he said. "I think the game here would be to +chip out through the door and work round the club-house to the green, +don't you?" + + * * * * * + +Little remains to be told. Betty and Eddie have been happily married +for years. Mortimer's handicap is now down to eighteen, and he is +improving all the time. He was not present at the wedding, being +unavoidably detained by a medal tournament; but, if you turn up the +files and look at the list of presents, which were both numerous and +costly, you will see--somewhere in the middle of the column, the words: + + STURGIS, J. MORTIMER. + _Two dozen Silver King Golf-balls and one patent Sturgis + Aluminium Self-Adjusting, Self-Compensating Putting-Cleek._ + + + + +4 + +_Sundered Hearts_ + + +In the smoking-room of the club-house a cheerful fire was burning, and +the Oldest Member glanced from time to time out of the window into the +gathering dusk. Snow was falling lightly on the links. From where he +sat, the Oldest Member had a good view of the ninth green; and +presently, out of the greyness of the December evening, there appeared +over the brow of the hill a golf-ball. It trickled across the green, +and stopped within a yard of the hole. The Oldest Member nodded +approvingly. A good approach-shot. + +A young man in a tweed suit clambered on to the green, holed out with +easy confidence, and, shouldering his bag, made his way to the +club-house. A few moments later he entered the smoking-room, and +uttered an exclamation of rapture at the sight of the fire. + +"I'm frozen stiff!" + +He rang for a waiter and ordered a hot drink. The Oldest Member gave a +gracious assent to the suggestion that he should join him. + +"I like playing in winter," said the young man. "You get the course to +yourself, for the world is full of slackers who only turn out when the +weather suits them. I cannot understand where they get the nerve to +call themselves golfers." + +"Not everyone is as keen as you are, my boy," said the Sage, dipping +gratefully into his hot drink. "If they were, the world would be a +better place, and we should hear less of all this modern unrest." + +"I _am_ pretty keen," admitted the young man. + +"I have only encountered one man whom I could describe as keener. I +allude to Mortimer Sturgis." + +"The fellow who took up golf at thirty-eight and let the girl he was +engaged to marry go off with someone else because he hadn't the time to +combine golf with courtship? I remember. You were telling me about him +the other day." + +"There is a sequel to that story, if you would care to hear it," said +the Oldest Member. + +"You have the honour," said the young man. "Go ahead!" + + * * * * * + +Some people (began the Oldest Member) considered that Mortimer Sturgis +was too wrapped up in golf, and blamed him for it. I could never see +eye to eye with them. In the days of King Arthur nobody thought the +worse of a young knight if he suspended all his social and business +engagements in favour of a search for the Holy Grail. In the Middle +Ages a man could devote his whole life to the Crusades, and the public +fawned upon him. Why, then, blame the man of today for a zealous +attention to the modern equivalent, the Quest of Scratch! Mortimer +Sturgis never became a scratch player, but he did eventually get his +handicap down to nine, and I honour him for it. + +The story which I am about to tell begins in what might be called the +middle period of Sturgis's career. He had reached the stage when his +handicap was a wobbly twelve; and, as you are no doubt aware, it is +then that a man really begins to golf in the true sense of the word. +Mortimer's fondness for the game until then had been merely tepid +compared with what it became now. He had played a little before, but +now he really buckled to and got down to it. It was at this point, too, +that he began once more to entertain thoughts of marriage. A profound +statistician in this one department, he had discovered that practically +all the finest exponents of the art are married men; and the thought +that there might be something in the holy state which improved a man's +game, and that he was missing a good thing, troubled him a great deal. +Moreover, the paternal instinct had awakened in him. As he justly +pointed out, whether marriage improved your game or not, it was to Old +Tom Morris's marriage that the existence of young Tommy Morris, winner +of the British Open Championship four times in succession, could be +directly traced. In fact, at the age of forty-two, Mortimer Sturgis was +in just the frame of mind to take some nice girl aside and ask her to +become a step-mother to his eleven drivers, his baffy, his twenty-eight +putters, and the rest of the ninety-four clubs which he had accumulated +in the course of his golfing career. The sole stipulation, of course, +which he made when dreaming his daydreams was that the future Mrs. +Sturgis must be a golfer. I can still recall the horror in his face +when one girl, admirable in other respects, said that she had never +heard of Harry Vardon, and didn't he mean Dolly Vardon? She has since +proved an excellent wife and mother, but Mortimer Sturgis never spoke +to her again. + +With the coming of January, it was Mortimer's practice to leave England +and go to the South of France, where there was sunshine and crisp dry +turf. He pursued his usual custom this year. With his suit-case and his +ninety-four clubs he went off to Saint Brule, staying as he always did +at the Hotel Superbe, where they knew him, and treated with an amiable +tolerance his habit of practising chip-shots in his bedroom. On the +first evening, after breaking a statuette of the Infant Samuel in +Prayer, he dressed and went down to dinner. And the first thing he saw +was Her. + +Mortimer Sturgis, as you know, had been engaged before, but Betty +Weston had never inspired the tumultuous rush of emotion which the mere +sight of this girl had set loose in him. He told me later that just to +watch her holing out her soup gave him a sort of feeling you get when +your drive collides with a rock in the middle of a tangle of rough and +kicks back into the middle of the fairway. If golf had come late in +life to Mortimer Sturgis, love came later still, and just as the golf, +attacking him in middle life, had been some golf, so was the love +considerable love. Mortimer finished his dinner in a trance, which is +the best way to do it at some hotels, and then scoured the place for +someone who would introduce him. He found such a person eventually and +the meeting took place. + + * * * * * + +She was a small and rather fragile-looking girl, with big blue eyes and +a cloud of golden hair. She had a sweet expression, and her left wrist +was in a sling. She looked up at Mortimer as if she had at last found +something that amounted to something. I am inclined to think it was a +case of love at first sight on both sides. + +"Fine weather we're having," said Mortimer, who was a capital +conversationalist. + +"Yes," said the girl. + +"I like fine weather." + +"So do I." + +"There's something about fine weather!" + +"Yes." + +"It's--it's--well, fine weather's so much finer than weather that isn't +fine," said Mortimer. + +He looked at the girl a little anxiously, fearing he might be taking +her out of her depth, but she seemed to have followed his train of +thought perfectly. + +"Yes, isn't it?" she said. "It's so--so fine." + +"That's just what I meant," said Mortimer. "So fine. You've just hit +it." + +He was charmed. The combination of beauty with intelligence is so rare. + +"I see you've hurt your wrist," he went on, pointing to the sling. + +"Yes. I strained it a little playing in the championship." + +"The championship?" Mortimer was interested. "It's awfully rude of me," +he said, apologetically, "but I didn't catch your name just now." + +"My name is Somerset." + +Mortimer had been bending forward solicitously. He overbalanced and +nearly fell off his chair. The shock had been stunning. Even before he +had met and spoken to her, he had told himself that he loved this girl +with the stored-up love of a lifetime. And she was Mary Somerset! The +hotel lobby danced before Mortimer's eyes. + +The name will, of course, be familiar to you. In the early rounds of +the Ladies' Open Golf Championship of that year nobody had paid much +attention to Mary Somerset. She had survived her first two matches, but +her opponents had been nonentities like herself. And then, in the third +round, she had met and defeated the champion. From that point on, her +name was on everybody's lips. She became favourite. And she justified +the public confidence by sailing into the final and winning easily. And +here she was, talking to him like an ordinary person, and, if he could +read the message in her eyes, not altogether indifferent to his charms, +if you could call them that. + +"Golly!" said Mortimer, awed. + + * * * * * + +Their friendship ripened rapidly, as friendships do in the South of +France. In that favoured clime, you find the girl and Nature does the +rest. On the second morning of their acquaintance Mortimer invited her +to walk round the links with him and watch him play. He did it a little +diffidently, for his golf was not of the calibre that would be likely +to extort admiration from a champion. On the other hand, one should +never let slip the opportunity of acquiring wrinkles on the game, and +he thought that Miss Somerset, if she watched one or two of his shots, +might tell him just what he ought to do. And sure enough, the opening +arrived on the fourth hole, where Mortimer, after a drive which +surprised even himself, found his ball in a nasty cuppy lie. + +He turned to the girl. + +"What ought I to do here?" he asked. + +Miss Somerset looked at the ball. She seemed to be weighing the matter +in her mind. + +"Give it a good hard knock," she said. + +Mortimer knew what she meant. She was advocating a full iron. The only +trouble was that, when he tried anything more ambitious than a +half-swing, except off the tee, he almost invariably topped. However, +he could not fail this wonderful girl, so he swung well back and took a +chance. His enterprise was rewarded. The ball flew out of the +indentation in the turf as cleanly as though John Henry Taylor had been +behind it, and rolled, looking neither to left nor to right, straight +for the pin. A few moments later Mortimer Sturgis had holed out one +under bogey, and it was only the fear that, having known him for so +short a time, she might be startled and refuse him that kept him from +proposing then and there. This exhibition of golfing generalship on her +part had removed his last doubts. He knew that, if he lived for ever, +there could be no other girl in the world for him. With her at his +side, what might he not do? He might get his handicap down to six--to +three--to scratch--to plus something! Good heavens, why, even the +Amateur Championship was not outside the range of possibility. Mortimer +Sturgis shook his putter solemnly in the air, and vowed a silent vow +that he would win this pearl among women. + +Now, when a man feels like that, it is impossible to restrain him long. +For a week Mortimer Sturgis's soul sizzled within him: then he could +contain himself no longer. One night, at one of the informal dances at +the hotel, he drew the girl out on to the moonlit terrace. + +"Miss Somerset----" he began, stuttering with emotion like an +imperfectly-corked bottle of ginger-beer. "Miss Somerset--may I call +you Mary?" + +The girl looked at him with eyes that shone softly in the dim light. + +"Mary?" she repeated. "Why, of course, if you like----" + +"If I like!" cried Mortimer. "Don't you know that it is my dearest +wish? Don't you know that I would rather be permitted to call you Mary +than do the first hole at Muirfield in two? Oh, Mary, how I have longed +for this moment! I love you! I love you! Ever since I met you I have +known that you were the one girl in this vast world whom I would die to +win! Mary, will you be mine? Shall we go round together? Will you fix +up a match with me on the links of life which shall end only when the +Grim Reaper lays us both a stymie?" + +She drooped towards him. + +"Mortimer!" she murmured. + +He held out his arms, then drew back. His face had grown suddenly +tense, and there were lines of pain about his mouth. + +"Wait!" he said, in a strained voice. "Mary, I love you dearly, and +because I love you so dearly I cannot let you trust your sweet life to +me blindly. I have a confession to make, I am not--I have not always +been"--he paused--"a good man," he said, in a low voice. + +She started indignantly. + +"How can you say that? You are the best, the kindest, the bravest man I +have ever met! Who but a good man would have risked his life to save me +from drowning?" + +"Drowning?" Mortimer's voice seemed perplexed. "You? What do you mean?" + +"Have you forgotten the time when I fell in the sea last week, and you +jumped in with all your clothes on----" + +"Of course, yes," said Mortimer. "I remember now. It was the day I did +the long seventh in five. I got off a good tee-shot straight down the +fairway, took a baffy for my second, and---- But that is not the point. +It is sweet and generous of you to think so highly of what was the +merest commonplace act of ordinary politeness, but I must repeat, that +judged by the standards of your snowy purity, I am not a good man. I do +not come to you clean and spotless as a young girl should expect her +husband to come to her. Once, playing in a foursome, my ball fell in +some long grass. Nobody was near me. We had no caddies, and the others +were on the fairway. God knows----" His voice shook. "God knows I +struggled against the temptation. But I fell. I kicked the ball on to a +little bare mound, from which it was an easy task with a nice +half-mashie to reach the green for a snappy seven. Mary, there have +been times when, going round by myself, I have allowed myself ten-foot +putts on three holes in succession, simply in order to be able to say I +had done the course in under a hundred. Ah! you shrink from me! You are +disgusted!" + +"I'm not disgusted! And I don't shrink! I only shivered because it is +rather cold." + +"Then you can love me in spite of my past?" + +"Mortimer!" + +She fell into his arms. + +"My dearest," he said presently, "what a happy life ours will be. That +is, if you do not find that you have made a mistake." + +"A mistake!" she cried, scornfully. + +"Well, my handicap is twelve, you know, and not so darned twelve at +that. There are days when I play my second from the fairway of the next +hole but one, days when I couldn't putt into a coal-hole with +'Welcome!' written over it. And you are a Ladies' Open Champion. Still, +if you think it's all right----. Oh, Mary, you little know how I have +dreamed of some day marrying a really first-class golfer! Yes, that was +my vision--of walking up the aisle with some sweet plus two girl on my +arm. You shivered again. You are catching cold." + +"It is a little cold," said the girl. She spoke in a small voice. + +"Let me take you in, sweetheart," said Mortimer. "I'll just put you in +a comfortable chair with a nice cup of coffee, and then I think I +really must come out again and tramp about and think how perfectly +splendid everything is." + + * * * * * + +They were married a few weeks later, very quietly, in the little +village church of Saint Brule. The secretary of the local golf-club +acted as best man for Mortimer, and a girl from the hotel was the only +bridesmaid. The whole business was rather a disappointment to Mortimer, +who had planned out a somewhat florid ceremony at St. George's, Hanover +Square, with the Vicar of Tooting (a scratch player excellent at short +approach shots) officiating, and "The Voice That Breathed O'er St. +Andrews" boomed from the organ. He had even had the idea of copying the +military wedding and escorting his bride out of the church under an +arch of crossed cleeks. But she would have none of this pomp. She +insisted on a quiet wedding, and for the honeymoon trip preferred a +tour through Italy. Mortimer, who had wanted to go to Scotland to visit +the birthplace of James Braid, yielded amiably, for he loved her +dearly. But he did not think much of Italy. In Rome, the great +monuments of the past left him cold. Of the Temple of Vespasian, all he +thought was that it would be a devil of a place to be bunkered behind. +The Colosseum aroused a faint spark of interest in him, as he +speculated whether Abe Mitchell would use a full brassey to carry it. +In Florence, the view over the Tuscan Hills from the Torre Rosa, +Fiesole, over which his bride waxed enthusiastic, seemed to him merely +a nasty bit of rough which would take a deal of getting out of. + +And so, in the fullness of time, they came home to Mortimer's cosy +little house adjoining the links. + + * * * * * + +Mortimer was so busy polishing his ninety-four clubs on the evening of +their arrival that he failed to notice that his wife was preoccupied. A +less busy man would have perceived at a glance that she was distinctly +nervous. She started at sudden noises, and once, when he tried the +newest of his mashie-niblicks and broke one of the drawing-room +windows, she screamed sharply. In short her manner was strange, and, if +Edgar Allen Poe had put her into "The Fall Of the House of Usher", she +would have fitted it like the paper on the wall. She had the air of one +waiting tensely for the approach of some imminent doom. Mortimer, +humming gaily to himself as he sand-papered the blade of his +twenty-second putter, observed none of this. He was thinking of the +morrow's play. + +"Your wrist's quite well again now, darling, isn't it?" he said. + +"Yes. Yes, quite well." + +"Fine!" said Mortimer. "We'll breakfast early--say at half-past +seven--and then we'll be able to get in a couple of rounds before +lunch. A couple more in the afternoon will about see us through. One +doesn't want to over-golf oneself the first day." He swung the putter +joyfully. "How had we better play do you think? We might start with you +giving me a half." + +She did not speak. She was very pale. She clutched the arm of her chair +tightly till the knuckles showed white under the skin. + +To anybody but Mortimer her nervousness would have been even more +obvious on the following morning, as they reached the first tee. Her +eyes were dull and heavy, and she started when a grasshopper chirruped. +But Mortimer was too occupied with thinking how jolly it was having the +course to themselves to notice anything. + +He scooped some sand out of the box, and took a ball out of her bag. +His wedding present to her had been a brand-new golf-bag, six dozen +balls, and a full set of the most expensive clubs, all born in +Scotland. + +"Do you like a high tee?" he asked. + +"Oh, no," she replied, coming with a start out of her thoughts. +"Doctors say it's indigestible." + +Mortimer laughed merrily. + +"Deuced good!" he chuckled. "Is that your own or did you read it in a +comic paper? There you are!" He placed the ball on a little hill of +sand, and got up. "Now let's see some of that championship form of +yours!" + +She burst into tears. + +"My darling!" + +Mortimer ran to her and put his arms round her. She tried weakly to +push him away. + +"My angel! What is it?" + +She sobbed brokenly. Then, with an effort, she spoke. + +"Mortimer, I have deceived you!" + +"Deceived me?" + +"I have never played golf in my life! I don't even know how to hold the +caddie!" + +Mortimer's heart stood still. This sounded like the gibberings of an +unbalanced mind, and no man likes his wife to begin gibbering +immediately after the honeymoon. + +"My precious! You are not yourself!" + +"I am! That's the whole trouble! I'm myself and not the girl you +thought I was!" + +Mortimer stared at her, puzzled. He was thinking that it was a little +difficult and that, to work it out properly, he would need a pencil and +a bit of paper. + +"My name is not Mary!" + +"But you said it was." + +"I didn't. You asked if you could call me Mary, and I said you might, +because I loved you too much to deny your smallest whim. I was going on +to say that it wasn't my name, but you interrupted me." + +"Not Mary!" The horrid truth was coming home to Mortimer. "You were not +Mary Somerset?" + +"Mary is my cousin. My name is Mabel." + +"But you said you had sprained your wrist playing in the championship." + +"So I had. The mallet slipped in my hand." + +"The mallet!" Mortimer clutched at his forehead. "You didn't say 'the +mallet'?" + +"Yes, Mortimer! The mallet!" + +A faint blush of shame mantled her cheek, and into her blue eyes there +came a look of pain, but she faced him bravely. + +"I am the Ladies' Open Croquet Champion!" she whispered. + +Mortimer Sturgis cried aloud, a cry that was like the shriek of some +wounded animal. + +"Croquet!" He gulped, and stared at her with unseeing eyes. He was no +prude, but he had those decent prejudices of which no self-respecting +man can wholly rid himself, however broad-minded he may try to be. +"Croquet!" + +There was a long silence. The light breeze sang in the pines above +them. The grasshoppers chirrupped at their feet. + +She began to speak again in a low, monotonous voice. + +"I blame myself! I should have told you before, while there was yet +time for you to withdraw. I should have confessed this to you that +night on the terrace in the moonlight. But you swept me off my feet, +and I was in your arms before I realized what you would think of me. It +was only then that I understood what my supposed skill at golf meant to +you, and then it was too late. I loved you too much to let you go! I +could not bear the thought of you recoiling from me. Oh, I was +mad--mad! I knew that I could not keep up the deception for ever, that +you must find me out in time. But I had a wild hope that by then we +should be so close to one another that you might find it in your heart +to forgive. But I was wrong. I see it now. There are some things that +no man can forgive. Some things," she repeated, dully, "which no man +can forgive." + +She turned away. Mortimer awoke from his trance. + +"Stop!" he cried. "Don't go!" + +"I must go." + +"I want to talk this over." + +She shook her head sadly and started to walk slowly across the sunlit +grass. Mortimer watched her, his brain in a whirl of chaotic thoughts. +She disappeared through the trees. + +Mortimer sat down on the tee-box, and buried his face in his hands. For +a time he could think of nothing but the cruel blow he had received. +This was the end of those rainbow visions of himself and her going +through life side by side, she lovingly criticizing his stance and his +back-swing, he learning wisdom from her. A croquet-player! He was +married to a woman who hit coloured balls through hoops. Mortimer +Sturgis writhed in torment. A strong man's agony. + +The mood passed. How long it had lasted, he did not know. But suddenly, +as he sat there, he became once more aware of the glow of the sunshine +and the singing of the birds. It was as if a shadow had lifted. Hope +and optimism crept into his heart. + +He loved her. He loved her still. She was part of him, and nothing that +she could do had power to alter that. She had deceived him, yes. But +why had she deceived him? Because she loved him so much that she could +not bear to lose him. Dash it all, it was a bit of a compliment. + +And, after all, poor girl, was it her fault? Was it not rather the +fault of her upbringing? Probably she had been taught to play croquet +when a mere child, hardly able to distinguish right from wrong. No +steps had been taken to eradicate the virus from her system, and the +thing had become chronic. Could she be blamed? Was she not more to be +pitied than censured? + +Mortimer rose to his feet, his heart swelling with generous +forgiveness. The black horror had passed from him. The future seemed +once more bright. It was not too late. She was still young, many years +younger than he himself had been when he took up golf, and surely, if +she put herself into the hands of a good specialist and practised every +day, she might still hope to become a fair player. He reached the house +and ran in, calling her name. + +No answer came. He sped from room to room, but all were empty. + +She had gone. The house was there. The furniture was there. The canary +sang in its cage, the cook in the kitchen. The pictures still hung on +the walls. But she had gone. Everything was at home except his wife. + +Finally, propped up against the cup he had once won in a handicap +competition, he saw a letter. With a sinking heart he tore open the +envelope. + +It was a pathetic, a tragic letter, the letter of a woman endeavouring +to express all the anguish of a torn heart with one of those +fountain-pens which suspend the flow of ink about twice in every three +words. The gist of it was that she felt she had wronged him; that, +though he might forgive, he could never forget; and that she was going +away, away out into the world alone. + +Mortimer sank into a chair, and stared blankly before him. She had +scratched the match. + + * * * * * + +I am not a married man myself, so have had no experience of how it +feels to have one's wife whizz off silently into the unknown; but I +should imagine that it must be something like taking a full swing with +a brassey and missing the ball. Something, I take it, of the same sense +of mingled shock, chagrin, and the feeling that nobody loves one, which +attacks a man in such circumstances, must come to the bereaved husband. +And one can readily understand how terribly the incident must have +shaken Mortimer Sturgis. I was away at the time, but I am told by those +who saw him that his game went all to pieces. + +He had never shown much indication of becoming anything in the nature +of a first-class golfer, but he had managed to acquire one or two +decent shots. His work with the light iron was not at all bad, and he +was a fairly steady putter. But now, under the shadow of this tragedy, +he dropped right back to the form of his earliest period. It was a +pitiful sight to see this gaunt, haggard man with the look of dumb +anguish behind his spectacles taking as many as three shots sometimes +to get past the ladies' tee. His slice, of which he had almost cured +himself, returned with such virulence that in the list of ordinary +hazards he had now to include the tee-box. And, when he was not +slicing, he was pulling. I have heard that he was known, when driving +at the sixth, to get bunkered in his own caddie, who had taken up his +position directly behind him. As for the deep sand-trap in front of the +seventh green, he spent so much of his time in it that there was some +informal talk among the members of the committee of charging him a +small weekly rent. + +A man of comfortable independent means, he lived during these days on +next to nothing. Golf-balls cost him a certain amount, but the bulk of +his income he spent in efforts to discover his wife's whereabouts. He +advertised in all the papers. He employed private detectives. He even, +much as it revolted his finer instincts, took to travelling about the +country, watching croquet matches. But she was never among the players. +I am not sure that he did not find a melancholy comfort in this, for it +seemed to show that, whatever his wife might be and whatever she might +be doing, she had not gone right under. + +Summer passed. Autumn came and went. Winter arrived. The days grew +bleak and chill, and an early fall of snow, heavier than had been known +at that time of the year for a long while, put an end to golf. Mortimer +spent his days indoors, staring gloomily through the window at the +white mantle that covered the earth. + +It was Christmas Eve. + + * * * * * + +The young man shifted uneasily on his seat. His face was long and +sombre. + +"All this is very depressing," he said. + +"These soul tragedies," agreed the Oldest Member, "are never very +cheery." + +"Look here," said the young man, firmly, "tell me one thing frankly, as +man to man. Did Mortimer find her dead in the snow, covered except for +her face, on which still lingered that faint, sweet smile which he +remembered so well? Because, if he did, I'm going home." + +"No, no," protested the Oldest Member. "Nothing of that kind." + +"You're sure? You aren't going to spring it on me suddenly?" + +"No, no!" + +The young man breathed a relieved sigh. + +"It was your saying that about the white mantle covering the earth that +made me suspicious." + +The Sage resumed. + + * * * * * + +It was Christmas Eve. All day the snow had been falling, and now it lay +thick and deep over the countryside. Mortimer Sturgis, his frugal +dinner concluded--what with losing his wife and not being able to get +any golf, he had little appetite these days--was sitting in his +drawing-room, moodily polishing the blade of his jigger. Soon wearying +of this once congenial task, he laid down the club and went to the +front door to see if there was any chance of a thaw. But no. It was +freezing. The snow, as he tested it with his shoe, crackled crisply. +The sky above was black and full of cold stars. It seemed to Mortimer +that the sooner he packed up and went to the South of France, the +better. He was just about to close the door, when suddenly he thought +he heard his own name called. + +"Mortimer!" + +Had he been mistaken? The voice had sounded faint and far away. + +"Mortimer!" + +He thrilled from head to foot. This time there could be no mistake. It +was the voice he knew so well, his wife's voice, and it had come from +somewhere down near the garden-gate. It is difficult to judge distance +where sounds are concerned, but Mortimer estimated that the voice had +spoken about a short mashie-niblick and an easy putt from where he +stood. + +The next moment he was racing down the snow-covered path. And then his +heart stood still. What was that dark something on the ground just +inside the gate? He leaped towards it. He passed his hands over it. It +was a human body. Quivering, he struck a match. It went out. He struck +another. That went out, too. He struck a third, and it burnt with a +steady flame; and, stooping, he saw that it was his wife who lay there, +cold and stiff. Her eyes were closed, and on her face still lingered +that faint, sweet smile which he remembered so well. + + * * * * * + +The young man rose with a set face. He reached for his golf-bag. + +"I call that a dirty trick," he said, "after you promised--" The Sage +waved him back to his seat. + +"Have no fear! She had only fainted." + +"You said she was cold." + +"Wouldn't you be cold if you were lying in the snow?" + +"And stiff." + +"Mrs. Sturgis was stiff because the train-service was bad, it being the +holiday-season, and she had had to walk all the way from the junction, +a distance of eight miles. Sit down and allow me to proceed." + + * * * * * + +Tenderly, reverently Mortimer Sturgis picked her up and began to bear +her into the house. Half-way there, his foot slipped on a piece of ice +and he fell heavily, barking his shin and shooting his lovely burden +out on to the snow. + +The fall brought her to. She opened her eyes. + +"Mortimer, darling!" she said. + +Mortimer had just been going to say something else, but he checked +himself. + +"Are you alive?" he asked. + +"Yes," she replied. + +"Thank God!" said Mortimer, scooping some of the snow out of the back +of his collar. + +Together they went into the house, and into the drawing-room. Wife +gazed at husband, husband at wife. There was a silence. + +"Rotten weather!" said Mortimer. + +"Yes, isn't it!" + +The spell was broken. They fell into each other's arms. And presently +they were sitting side by side on the sofa, holding hands, just as if +that awful parting had been but a dream. + +It was Mortimer who made the first reference to it. + +"I say, you know," he said, "you oughtn't to have nipped away like +that!" + +"I thought you hated me!" + +"Hated _you_! I love you better than life itself! I would sooner +have smashed my pet driver than have had you leave me!" + +She thrilled at the words. + +"Darling!" + +Mortimer fondled her hand. + +"I was just coming back to tell you that I loved you still. I was going +to suggest that you took lessons from some good professional. And I +found you gone!" + +"I wasn't worthy of you, Mortimer!" + +"My angel!" He pressed his lips to her hair, and spoke solemnly. "All +this has taught me a lesson, dearest. I knew all along, and I know it +more than ever now, that it is you--you that I want. Just you! I don't +care if you don't play golf. I don't care----" He hesitated, then went on +manfully. "I don't care even if you play croquet, so long as you are +with me!" + +For a moment her face showed rapture that made it almost angelic. She +uttered a low moan of ecstasy. She kissed him. Then she rose. + +"Mortimer, look!" + +"What at?" + +"Me. Just look!" + +The jigger which he had been polishing lay on a chair close by. She +took it up. From the bowl of golf-balls on the mantelpiece she selected +a brand new one. She placed it on the carpet. She addressed it. Then, +with a merry cry of "Fore!" she drove it hard and straight through the +glass of the china-cupboard. + +"Good God!" cried Mortimer, astounded. It had been a bird of a shot. + +She turned to him, her whole face alight with that beautiful smile. + +"When I left you, Mortie," she said, "I had but one aim in life, +somehow to make myself worthy of you. I saw your advertisements in the +papers, and I longed to answer them, but I was not ready. All this +long, weary while I have been in the village of Auchtermuchtie, in +Scotland, studying under Tamms McMickle." + +"Not the Tamms McMickle who finished fourth in the Open Championship of +1911, and had the best ball in the foursome in 1912 with Jock McHaggis, +Andy McHeather, and Sandy McHoots!" + +"Yes, Mortimer, the very same. Oh, it was difficult at first. I missed +my mallet, and long to steady the ball with my foot and use the toe of +the club. Wherever there was a direction post I aimed at it +automatically. But I conquered my weakness. I practised steadily. And +now Mr. McMickle says my handicap would be a good twenty-four on any +links." She smiled apologetically. "Of course, that doesn't sound much +to you! You were a twelve when I left you, and now I suppose you are +down to eight or something." + +Mortimer shook his head. + +"Alas, no!" he replied, gravely. "My game went right off for some +reason or other, and I'm twenty-four, too." + +"For some reason or other!" She uttered a cry. "Oh, I know what the +reason was! How can I ever forgive myself! I have ruined your game!" + +The brightness came back to Mortimer's eyes. He embraced her fondly. + +"Do not reproach yourself, dearest," he murmured. "It is the best thing +that could have happened. From now on, we start level, two hearts that +beat as one, two drivers that drive as one. I could not wish it +otherwise. By George! It's just like that thing of Tennyson's." + +He recited the lines softly: + + _My bride, + My wife, my life. Oh, we will walk the links + Yoked in all exercise of noble end, + And so thro' those dark bunkers off the course + That no man knows. Indeed, I love thee: come, + Yield thyself up: our handicaps are one; + Accomplish thou my manhood and thyself; + Lay thy sweet hands in mine and trust to me._ + +She laid her hands in his. + +"And now, Mortie, darling," she said, "I want to tell you all about how +I did the long twelfth at Auchtermuchtie in one under bogey." + + + + +5 + +_The Salvation of George Mackintosh_ + + +The young man came into the club-house. There was a frown on his +usually cheerful face, and he ordered a ginger-ale in the sort of voice +which an ancient Greek would have used when asking the executioner to +bring on the hemlock. + +Sunk in the recesses of his favourite settee the Oldest Member had +watched him with silent sympathy. + +"How did you get on?" he inquired. + +"He beat me." + +The Oldest Member nodded his venerable head. + +"You have had a trying time, if I am not mistaken. I feared as much +when I saw you go out with Pobsley. How many a young man have I seen go +out with Herbert Pobsley exulting in his youth, and crawl back at +eventide looking like a toad under the harrow! He talked?" + +"All the time, confound it! Put me right off my stroke." + +The Oldest Member sighed. + +"The talking golfer is undeniably the most pronounced pest of our +complex modern civilization," he said, "and the most difficult to deal +with. It is a melancholy thought that the noblest of games should have +produced such a scourge. I have frequently marked Herbert Pobsley in +action. As the crackling of thorns under a pot.... He is almost as bad +as poor George Mackintosh in his worst period. Did I ever tell you +about George Mackintosh?" + +"I don't think so." + +"His," said the Sage, "is the only case of golfing garrulity I have +ever known where a permanent cure was affected. If you would care to +hear about it----?" + + * * * * * + +George Mackintosh (said the Oldest Member), when I first knew him, was +one of the most admirable young fellows I have ever met. A handsome, +well-set-up man, with no vices except a tendency to use the mashie for +shots which should have been made with the light iron. And as for his +positive virtues, they were too numerous to mention. He never swayed +his body, moved his head, or pressed. He was always ready to utter a +tactful grunt when his opponent foozled. And when he himself achieved a +glaring fluke, his self-reproachful click of the tongue was music to +his adversary's bruised soul. But of all his virtues the one that most +endeared him to me and to all thinking men was the fact that, from the +start of a round to the finish, he never spoke a word except when +absolutely compelled to do so by the exigencies of the game. And it was +this man who subsequently, for a black period which lives in the memory +of all his contemporaries, was known as Gabby George and became a shade +less popular than the germ of Spanish Influenza. Truly, _corruptio +optimi pessima!_ + +One of the things that sadden a man as he grows older and reviews his +life is the reflection that his most devastating deeds were generally +the ones which he did with the best motives. The thought is +disheartening. I can honestly say that, when George Mackintosh came to +me and told me his troubles, my sole desire was to ameliorate his lot. +That I might be starting on the downward path a man whom I liked and +respected never once occurred to me. + +One night after dinner when George Mackintosh came in, I could see at +once that there was something on his mind, but what this could be I was +at a loss to imagine, for I had been playing with him myself all the +afternoon, and he had done an eighty-one and a seventy-nine. And, as I +had not left the links till dusk was beginning to fall, it was +practically impossible that he could have gone out again and done +badly. The idea of financial trouble seemed equally out of the +question. George had a good job with the old-established legal firm of +Peabody, Peabody, Peabody, Peabody, Cootes, Toots, and Peabody. The +third alternative, that he might be in love, I rejected at once. In all +the time I had known him I had never seen a sign that George Mackintosh +gave a thought to the opposite sex. + +Yet this, bizarre as it seemed, was the true solution. Scarcely had he +seated himself and lit a cigar when he blurted out his confession. + +"What would you do in a case like this?" he said. + +"Like what?" + +"Well----" He choked, and a rich blush permeated his surface. "Well, it +seems a silly thing to say and all that, but I'm in love with Miss +Tennant, you know!" + +"You are in love with Celia Tennant?" + +"Of course I am. I've got eyes, haven't I? Who else is there that any +sane man could possibly be in love with? That," he went on, moodily, +"is the whole trouble. There's a field of about twenty-nine, and I +should think my place in the betting is about thirty-three to one." + +"I cannot agree with you there," I said. "You have every advantage, it +appears to me. You are young, amiable, good-looking, comfortably off, +scratch----" + +"But I can't talk, confound it!" he burst out. "And how is a man to get +anywhere at this sort of game without talking?" + +"You are talking perfectly fluently now." + +"Yes, to you. But put me in front of Celia Tennant, and I simply make a +sort of gurgling noise like a sheep with the botts. It kills my chances +stone dead. You know these other men. I can give Claude Mainwaring a +third and beat him. I can give Eustace Brinkley a stroke a hole and +simply trample on his corpse. But when it comes to talking to a girl, +I'm not in their class." + +"You must not be diffident." + +"But I _am_ diffident. What's the good of saying I mustn't be +diffident when I'm the man who wrote the words and music, when +Diffidence is my middle name and my telegraphic address? I can't help +being diffident." + +"Surely you could overcome it?" + +"But how? It was in the hope that you might be able to suggest +something that I came round tonight." + +And this was where I did the fatal thing. It happened that, just before +I took up "Braid on the Push-Shot," I had been dipping into the current +number of a magazine, and one of the advertisements, I chanced to +remember, might have been framed with a special eye to George's +unfortunate case. It was that one, which I have no doubt you have seen, +which treats of "How to Become a Convincing Talker". I picked up this +magazine now and handed it to George. + +He studied it for a few minutes in thoughtful silence. He looked at the +picture of the Man who had taken the course being fawned upon by lovely +women, while the man who had let this opportunity slip stood outside +the group gazing with a wistful envy. + +"They never do that to me," said George. + +"Do what, my boy?" + +"Cluster round, clinging cooingly." + +"I gather from the letterpress that they will if you write for the +booklet." + +"You think there is really something in it?" + +"I see no reason why eloquence should not be taught by mail. One seems +to be able to acquire every other desirable quality in that manner +nowadays." + +"I might try it. After all, it's not expensive. There's no doubt about +it," he murmured, returning to his perusal, "that fellow does look +popular. Of course, the evening dress may have something to do with +it." + +"Not at all. The other man, you will notice, is also wearing evening +dress, and yet he is merely among those on the outskirts. It is simply +a question of writing for the booklet." + +"Sent post free." + +"Sent, as you say, post free." + +"I've a good mind to try it." + +"I see no reason why you should not." + +"I will, by Duncan!" He tore the page out of the magazine and put it in +his pocket. "I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give this thing a trial +for a week or two, and at the end of that time I'll go to the boss and +see how he reacts when I ask for a rise of salary. If he crawls, it'll +show there's something in this. If he flings me out, it will prove the +thing's no good." + +We left it at that, and I am bound to say--owing, no doubt, to my not +having written for the booklet of the Memory Training Course advertised +on the adjoining page of the magazine--the matter slipped from my mind. +When, therefore, a few weeks later, I received a telegram from young +Mackintosh which ran: + + _Worked like magic,_ + +I confess I was intensely puzzled. It was only a quarter of an hour +before George himself arrived that I solved the problem of its meaning. + +"So the boss crawled?" I said, as he came in. + +He gave a light, confident laugh. I had not seen him, as I say, for +some time, and I was struck by the alteration in his appearance. In +what exactly this alteration consisted I could not at first have said; +but gradually it began to impress itself on me that his eye was +brighter, his jaw squarer, his carriage a trifle more upright than it +had been. But it was his eye that struck me most forcibly. The George +Mackintosh I had known had had a pleasing gaze, but, though frank and +agreeable, it had never been more dynamic than a fried egg. This new +George had an eye that was a combination of a gimlet and a searchlight. +Coleridge's Ancient Mariner, I imagine, must have been somewhat +similarly equipped. The Ancient Mariner stopped a wedding guest on his +way to a wedding; George Mackintosh gave me the impression that he +could have stopped the Cornish Riviera express on its way to Penzance. +Self-confidence--aye, and more than self-confidence--a sort of sinful, +overbearing swank seemed to exude from his very pores. + +"Crawled?" he said. "Well, he didn't actually lick my boots, because I +saw him coming and side-stepped; but he did everything short of that. I +hadn't been talking an hour when----" + +"An hour!" I gasped. "Did you talk for an hour?" + +"Certainly. You wouldn't have had me be abrupt, would you? I went into +his private office and found him alone. I think at first he would have +been just as well pleased if I had retired. In fact, he said as much. +But I soon adjusted that outlook. I took a seat and a cigarette, and +then I started to sketch out for him the history of my connection with +the firm. He began to wilt before the end of the first ten minutes. At +the quarter of an hour mark he was looking at me like a lost dog that's +just found its owner. By the half-hour he was making little bleating +noises and massaging my coat-sleeve. And when, after perhaps an hour +and a half, I came to my peroration and suggested a rise, he choked +back a sob, gave me double what I had asked, and invited me to dine at +his club next Tuesday. I'm a little sorry now I cut the thing so short. +A few minutes more, and I fancy he would have given me his +sock-suspenders and made over his life-insurance in my favour." + +"Well," I said, as soon as I could speak, for I was finding my young +friend a trifle overpowering, "this is most satisfactory." + +"So-so," said George. "Not un-so-so. A man wants an addition to his +income when he is going to get married." + +"Ah!" I said. "That, of course, will be the real test." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Why, when you propose to Celia Tennant. You remember you were saying +when we spoke of this before--" + +"Oh, that!" said George, carelessly. "I've arranged all that." + +"What!" + +"Oh, yes. On my way up from the station. I looked in on Celia about an +hour ago, and it's all settled." + +"Amazing!" + +"Well, I don't know. I just put the thing to her, and she seemed to see +it." + +"I congratulate you. So now, like Alexander, you have no more worlds to +conquer." + +"Well, I don't know so much about that," said George. "The way it looks to +me is that I'm just starting. This eloquence is a thing that rather grows +on one. You didn't hear about my after-dinner speech at the anniversary +banquet of the firm, I suppose? My dear fellow, a riot! A positive +stampede. Had 'em laughing and then crying and then laughing again and +then crying once more till six of 'em had to be led out and the rest down +with hiccoughs. Napkins waving ... three tables broken ... waiters in +hysterics. I tell you, I played on them as on a stringed instrument...." + +"Can you play on a stringed instrument?" + +"As it happens, no. But as I would have played on a stringed instrument +if I could play on a stringed instrument. Wonderful sense of power it +gives you. I mean to go in pretty largely for that sort of thing in +future." + +"You must not let it interfere with your golf." + +He gave a laugh which turned my blood cold. + +"Golf!" he said. "After all, what is golf? Just pushing a small ball +into a hole. A child could do it. Indeed, children have done it with +great success. I see an infant of fourteen has just won some sort of +championship. Could that stripling convulse a roomful of banqueters? I +think not! To sway your fellow-men with a word, to hold them with a +gesture ... that is the real salt of life. I don't suppose I shall play +much more golf now. I'm making arrangements for a lecturing-tour, and +I'm booked up for fifteen lunches already." + +Those were his words. A man who had once done the lake-hole in one. A +man whom the committee were grooming for the amateur championship. I am +no weakling, but I confess they sent a chill shiver down my spine. + + * * * * * + +George Mackintosh did not, I am glad to say, carry out his mad project +to the letter. He did not altogether sever himself from golf. He was +still to be seen occasionally on the links. But now--and I know of +nothing more tragic that can befall a man--he found himself gradually +shunned, he who in the days of his sanity had been besieged with more +offers of games than he could manage to accept. Men simply would not +stand his incessant flow of talk. One by one they dropped off, until +the only person he could find to go round with him was old Major +Moseby, whose hearing completely petered out as long ago as the year +'98. And, of course, Celia Tennant would play with him occasionally; +but it seemed to me that even she, greatly as no doubt she loved him, +was beginning to crack under the strain. + +So surely had I read the pallor of her face and the wild look of dumb +agony in her eyes that I was not surprised when, as I sat one morning +in my garden reading Ray on Taking Turf, my man announced her name. I +had been half expecting her to come to me for advice and consolation, +for I had known her ever since she was a child. It was I who had given +her her first driver and taught her infant lips to lisp "Fore!" It is +not easy to lisp the word "Fore!" but I had taught her to do it, and +this constituted a bond between us which had been strengthened rather +than weakened by the passage of time. + +She sat down on the grass beside my chair, and looked up at my face in +silent pain. We had known each other so long that I know that it was +not my face that pained her, but rather some unspoken _malaise_ of +the soul. I waited for her to speak, and suddenly she burst out +impetuously as though she could hold back her sorrow no longer. + +"Oh, I can't stand it! I can't stand it!" + +"You mean...?" I said, though I knew only too well. + +"This horrible obsession of poor George's," she cried passionately. "I +don't think he has stopped talking once since we have been engaged." + +"He _is_ chatty," I agreed. "Has he told you the story about the +Irishman?" + +"Half a dozen times. And the one about the Swede oftener than that. But +I would not mind an occasional anecdote. Women have to learn to bear +anecdotes from the men they love. It is the curse of Eve. It is his +incessant easy flow of chatter on all topics that is undermining even +my devotion." + +"But surely, when he proposed to you, he must have given you an inkling +of the truth. He only hinted at it when he spoke to me, but I gather +that he was eloquent." + +"When he proposed," said Celia dreamily, "he was wonderful. He spoke +for twenty minutes without stopping. He said I was the essence of his +every hope, the tree on which the fruit of his life grew; his Present, +his Future, his Past ... oh, and all that sort of thing. If he would +only confine his conversation now to remarks of a similar nature, I +could listen to him all day long. But he doesn't. He talks politics and +statistics and philosophy and ... oh, and everything. He makes my head +ache." + +"And your heart also, I fear," I said gravely. + +"I love him!" she replied simply. "In spite of everything, I love him +dearly. But what to do? What to do? I have an awful fear that when we +are getting married instead of answering 'I will,' he will go into the +pulpit and deliver an address on Marriage Ceremonies of All Ages. The +world to him is a vast lecture-platform. He looks on life as one long +after-dinner, with himself as the principal speaker of the evening. It +is breaking my heart. I see him shunned by his former friends. Shunned! +They run a mile when they see him coming. The mere sound of his voice +outside the club-house is enough to send brave men diving for safety +beneath the sofas. Can you wonder that I am in despair? What have I to +live for?" + +"There is always golf." + +"Yes, there is always golf," she whispered bravely. + +"Come and have a round this afternoon." + +"I had promised to go for a walk ..." She shuddered, then pulled herself +together. "... for a walk with George." + +I hesitated for a moment. + +"Bring him along," I said, and patted her hand. "It may be that +together we shall find an opportunity of reasoning with him." + +She shook her head. + +"You can't reason with George. He never stops talking long enough to +give you time." + +"Nevertheless, there is no harm in trying. I have an idea that this +malady of his is not permanent and incurable. The very violence with +which the germ of loquacity has attacked him gives me hope. You must +remember that before this seizure he was rather a noticeably silent +man. Sometimes I think that it is just Nature's way of restoring the +average, and that soon the fever may burn itself out. Or it may be that +a sudden shock ... At any rate, have courage." + +"I will try to be brave." + +"Capital! At half-past two on the first tee, then." + +"You will have to give me a stroke on the third, ninth, twelfth, +fifteenth, sixteenth and eighteenth," she said, with a quaver in her +voice. "My golf has fallen off rather lately." + +I patted her hand again. + +"I understand," I said gently. "I understand." + + * * * * * + +The steady drone of a baritone voice as I alighted from my car and +approached the first tee told me that George had not forgotten the +tryst. He was sitting on the stone seat under the chestnut-tree, +speaking a few well-chosen words on the Labour Movement. + +"To what conclusion, then, do we come?" he was saying. "We come to the +foregone and inevitable conclusion that...." + +"Good afternoon, George," I said. + +He nodded briefly, but without verbal salutation. He seemed to regard +my remark as he would have regarded the unmannerly heckling of some one +at the back of the hall. He proceeded evenly with his speech, and was +still talking when Celia addressed her ball and drove off. Her drive, +coinciding with a sharp rhetorical question from George, wavered in +mid-air, and the ball trickled off into the rough half-way down the +hill. I can see the poor girl's tortured face even now. But she +breathed no word of reproach. Such is the miracle of women's love. + +"Where you went wrong there," said George, breaking off his remarks on +Labour, "was that you have not studied the dynamics of golf +sufficiently. You did not pivot properly. You allowed your left heel to +point down the course when you were at the top of your swing. This +makes for instability and loss of distance. The fundamental law of the +dynamics of golf is that the left foot shall be solidly on the ground +at the moment of impact. If you allow your heel to point down the +course, it is almost impossible to bring it back in time to make the +foot a solid fulcrum." + +I drove, and managed to clear the rough and reach the fairway. But it +was not one of my best drives. George Mackintosh, I confess, had +unnerved me. The feeling he gave me resembled the self-conscious panic +which I used to experience in my childhood when informed that there was +One Awful Eye that watched my every movement and saw my every act. It +was only the fact that poor Celia appeared even more affected by his +espionage that enabled me to win the first hole in seven. + +On the way to the second tee George discoursed on the beauties of +Nature, pointing out at considerable length how exquisitely the silver +glitter of the lake harmonized with the vivid emerald turf near the +hole and the duller green of the rough beyond it. As Celia teed up her +ball, he directed her attention to the golden glory of the sand-pit to +the left of the flag. It was not the spirit in which to approach the +lake-hole, and I was not surprised when the unfortunate girl's ball +fell with a sickening plop half-way across the water. + +"Where you went wrong there," said George, "was that you made the +stroke a sudden heave instead of a smooth, snappy flick of the wrists. +Pressing is always bad, but with the mashie----" + +"I think I will give you this hole," said Celia to me, for my shot had +cleared the water and was lying on the edge of the green. "I wish I +hadn't used a new ball." + +"The price of golf-balls," said George, as we started to round the +lake, "is a matter to which economists should give some attention. I am +credibly informed that rubber at the present time is exceptionally +cheap. Yet we see no decrease in the price of golf-balls, which, as I +need scarcely inform you, are rubber-cored. Why should this be so? You +will say that the wages of skilled labour have gone up. True. But----" + +"One moment, George, while I drive," I said. For we had now arrived at +the third tee. + +"A curious thing, concentration," said George, "and why certain +phenomena should prevent us from focusing our attention---- This brings +me to the vexed question of sleep. Why is it that we are able to sleep +through some vast convulsion of Nature when a dripping tap is enough to +keep us awake? I am told that there were people who slumbered +peacefully through the San Francisco earthquake, merely stirring +drowsily from time to time to tell an imaginary person to leave it on +the mat. Yet these same people----" + +Celia's drive bounded into the deep ravine which yawns some fifty yards +from the tee. A low moan escaped her. + +"Where you went wrong there----" said George. + +"I know," said Celia. "I lifted my head." + +I had never heard her speak so abruptly before. Her manner, in a girl +less noticeably pretty, might almost have been called snappish. George, +however, did not appear to have noticed anything amiss. He filled his +pipe and followed her into the ravine. + +"Remarkable," he said, "how fundamental a principle of golf is this +keeping the head still. You will hear professionals tell their pupils +to keep their eye on the ball. Keeping the eye on the ball is only a +secondary matter. What they really mean is that the head should be kept +rigid, as otherwise it is impossible to----" + +His voice died away. I had sliced my drive into the woods on the right, +and after playing another had gone off to try to find my ball, leaving +Celia and George in the ravine behind me. My last glimpse of them +showed me that her ball had fallen into a stone-studded cavity in the +side of the hill, and she was drawing her niblick from her bag as I +passed out of sight. George's voice, blurred by distance to a +monotonous murmur, followed me until I was out of earshot. + +I was just about to give up the hunt for my ball in despair, when I +heard Celia's voice calling to me from the edge of the undergrowth. +There was a sharp note in it which startled me. + +I came out, trailing a portion of some unknown shrub which had twined +itself about my ankle. + +"Yes?" I said, picking twigs out of my hair. + +"I want your advice," said Celia. + +"Certainly. What is the trouble? By the way," I said, looking round, +"where is your _fiance_?" + +"I have no _fiance_," she said, in a dull, hard voice. + +"You have broken off the engagement?" + +"Not exactly. And yet--well, I suppose it amounts to that." + +"I don't quite understand." + +"Well, the fact is," said Celia, in a burst of girlish frankness, "I +rather think I've killed George." + +"Killed him, eh?" + +It was a solution that had not occurred to me, but now that it was +presented for my inspection I could see its merits. In these days of +national effort, when we are all working together to try to make our +beloved land fit for heroes to live in, it was astonishing that nobody +before had thought of a simple, obvious thing like killing George +Mackintosh. George Mackintosh was undoubtedly better dead, but it had +taken a woman's intuition to see it. + +"I killed him with my niblick," said Celia. + +I nodded. If the thing was to be done at all, it was unquestionably a +niblick shot. + +"I had just made my eleventh attempt to get out of that ravine," the +girl went on, "with George talking all the time about the recent +excavations in Egypt, when suddenly--you know what it is when something +seems to snap----" + +"I had the experience with my shoe-lace only this morning." + +"Yes, it was like that. Sharp--sudden--happening all in a moment. I +suppose I must have said something, for George stopped talking about +Egypt and said that he was reminded by a remark of the last speaker's +of a certain Irishman-----" + +I pressed her hand. + +"Don't go on if it hurts you," I said, gently. + +"Well, there is very little more to tell. He bent his head to light his +pipe, and well--the temptation was too much for me. That's all." + +"You were quite right." + +"You really think so?" + +"I certainly do. A rather similar action, under far less provocation, +once made Jael the wife of Heber the most popular woman in Israel." + +"I wish I could think so too," she murmured. "At the moment, you know, +I was conscious of nothing but an awful elation. But--but--oh, he was +such a darling before he got this dreadful affliction. I can't help +thinking of G-George as he used to be." + +She burst into a torrent of sobs. + +"Would you care for me to view the remains?" I said. + +"Perhaps it would be as well." + +She led me silently into the ravine. George Mackintosh was lying on his +back where he had fallen. + +"There!" said Celia. + +And, as she spoke, George Mackintosh gave a kind of snorting groan and +sat up. Celia uttered a sharp shriek and sank on her knees before him. +George blinked once or twice and looked about him dazedly. + +"Save the women and children!" he cried. "I can swim." + +"Oh, George!" said Celia. + +"Feeling a little better?" I asked. + +"A little. How many people were hurt?" + +"Hurt?" + +"When the express ran into us." He cast another glance around him. +"Why, how did I get here?" + +"You were here all the time," I said. + +"Do you mean after the roof fell in or before?" + +Celia was crying quietly down the back of his neck. + +"Oh, George!" she said, again. + +He groped out feebly for her hand and patted it. + +"Brave little woman!" he said. "Brave little woman! She stuck by me all +through. Tell me--I am strong enough to bear it--what caused the +explosion?" + +It seemed to me a case where much unpleasant explanation might be +avoided by the exercise of a little tact. + +"Well, some say one thing and some another," I said. "Whether it was a +spark from a cigarette----" + +Celia interrupted me. The woman in her made her revolt against this +well-intentioned subterfuge. + +"I hit you, George!" + +"Hit me?" he repeated, curiously. "What with? The Eiffel Tower?" + +"With my niblick." + +"You hit me with your niblick? But why?" + +She hesitated. Then she faced him bravely. + +"Because you wouldn't stop talking." + +He gaped. + +"Me!" he said. "_I_ wouldn't stop talking! But I hardly talk at +all. I'm noted for it." + +Celia's eyes met mine in agonized inquiry. But I saw what had happened. +The blow, the sudden shock, had operated on George's brain-cells in +such a way as to effect a complete cure. I have not the technical +knowledge to be able to explain it, but the facts were plain. + +"Lately, my dear fellow," I assured him, "you have dropped into the +habit of talking rather a good deal. Ever since we started out this +afternoon you have kept up an incessant flow of conversation!" + +"Me! On the links! It isn't possible." + +"It is only too true, I fear. And that is why this brave girl hit you +with her niblick. You started to tell her a funny story just as she was +making her eleventh shot to get her ball out of this ravine, and she +took what she considered the necessary steps." + +"Can you ever forgive me, George?" cried Celia. + +George Mackintosh stared at me. Then a crimson blush mantled his face. + +"So I did! It's all beginning to come back to me. Oh, heavens!" + +"_Can_ you forgive me, George?" cried Celia again. + +He took her hand in his. + +"Forgive you?" he muttered. "Can _you_ forgive _me?_ Me--a +tee-talker, a green-gabbler, a prattler on the links, the lowest form +of life known to science! I am unclean, unclean!" + +"It's only a little mud, dearest," said Celia, looking at the sleeve of +his coat. "It will brush off when it's dry." + +"How can you link your lot with a man who talks when people are making +their shots?" + +"You will never do it again." + +"But I have done it. And you stuck to me all through! Oh, Celia!" + +"I loved you, George!" + +The man seemed to swell with a sudden emotion. His eye lit up, and he +thrust one hand into the breast of his coat while he raised the other +in a sweeping gesture. For an instant he appeared on the verge of a +flood of eloquence. And then, as if he had been made sharply aware of +what it was that he intended to do, he suddenly sagged. The gleam died +out of his eyes. He lowered his hand. + +"Well, I must say that was rather decent of you," he said. + +A lame speech, but one that brought an infinite joy to both his +hearers. For it showed that George Mackintosh was cured beyond +possibility of relapse. + +"Yes, I must say you are rather a corker," he added. + +"George!" cried Celia. + +I said nothing, but I clasped his hand; and then, taking my clubs, I +retired. When I looked round she was still in his arms. I left them +there, alone together in the great silence. + + * * * * * + +And so (concluded the Oldest Member) you see that a cure is possible, +though it needs a woman's gentle hand to bring it about. And how few +women are capable of doing what Celia Tennant did. Apart from the +difficulty of summoning up the necessary resolution, an act like hers +requires a straight eye and a pair of strong and supple wrists. It +seems to me that for the ordinary talking golfer there is no hope. And +the race seems to be getting more numerous every day. Yet the finest +golfers are always the least loquacious. It is related of the +illustrious Sandy McHoots that when, on the occasion of his winning the +British Open Championship, he was interviewed by reporters from the +leading daily papers as to his views on Tariff Reform, Bimetallism, the +Trial by Jury System, and the Modern Craze for Dancing, all they could +extract from him was the single word "Mphm!" Having uttered which, he +shouldered his bag and went home to tea. A great man. I wish there were +more like him. + + + + +6 + +_Ordeal By Golf_ + + +A pleasant breeze played among the trees on the terrace outside the +Marvis Bay Golf and Country Club. It ruffled the leaves and cooled the +forehead of the Oldest Member, who, as was his custom of a Saturday +afternoon, sat in the shade on a rocking-chair, observing the younger +generation as it hooked and sliced in the valley below. The eye of the +Oldest Member was thoughtful and reflective. When it looked into yours +you saw in it that perfect peace, that peace beyond understanding, +which comes at its maximum only to the man who has given up golf. + +The Oldest Member has not played golf since the rubber-cored ball +superseded the old dignified gutty. But as a spectator and philosopher +he still finds pleasure in the pastime. He is watching it now with keen +interest. His gaze, passing from the lemonade which he is sucking +through a straw, rests upon the Saturday foursome which is struggling +raggedly up the hill to the ninth green. Like all Saturday foursomes, +it is in difficulties. One of the patients is zigzagging about the +fairway like a liner pursued by submarines. Two others seem to be +digging for buried treasure, unless--it is too far off to be +certain--they are killing snakes. The remaining cripple, who has just +foozled a mashie-shot, is blaming his caddie. His voice, as he upbraids +the innocent child for breathing during his up-swing, comes clearly up +the hill. + +The Oldest Member sighs. His lemonade gives a sympathetic gurgle. He +puts it down on the table. + + * * * * * + +How few men, says the Oldest Member, possess the proper golfing +temperament! How few indeed, judging by the sights I see here on +Saturday afternoons, possess any qualification at all for golf except a +pair of baggy knickerbockers and enough money to enable them to pay for +the drinks at the end of the round. The ideal golfer never loses his +temper. When I played, I never lost my temper. Sometimes, it is true, I +may, after missing a shot, have broken my club across my knees; but I +did it in a calm and judicial spirit, because the club was obviously no +good and I was going to get another one anyway. To lose one's temper at +golf is foolish. It gets you nothing, not even relief. Imitate the +spirit of Marcus Aurelius. "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. For there can be no doubt +that the man was a golfer, and a bad golfer at that. Nobody who had not +had a short putt stop on the edge of the hole could possibly have +written the words: "That which makes the man no worse than he was makes +life no worse. It has no power to harm, without or within." Yes, Marcus +Aurelius undoubtedly played golf, and all the evidence seems to +indicate that he rarely went round in under a hundred and twenty. The +niblick was his club. + +Speaking of Marcus Aurelius and the golfing temperament recalls to my +mind the case of young Mitchell Holmes. Mitchell, when I knew him +first, was a promising young man with a future before him in the +Paterson Dyeing and Refining Company, of which my old friend, Alexander +Paterson, was the president. He had many engaging qualities--among them +an unquestioned ability to imitate a bulldog quarrelling with a +Pekingese in a way which had to be heard to be believed. It was a gift +which made him much in demand at social gatherings in the +neighbourhood, marking him off from other young men who could only +almost play the mandolin or recite bits of Gunga Din; and no doubt it +was this talent of his which first sowed the seeds of love in the heart +of Millicent Boyd. Women are essentially hero-worshippers, and when a +warm-hearted girl like Millicent has heard a personable young man +imitating a bulldog and a Pekingese to the applause of a crowded +drawing-room, and has been able to detect the exact point at which the +Pekingese leaves off and the bulldog begins, she can never feel quite +the same to other men. In short, Mitchell and Millicent were engaged, +and were only waiting to be married till the former could bite the +Dyeing and Refining Company's ear for a bit of extra salary. + +Mitchell Holmes had only one fault. He lost his temper when playing +golf. He seldom played a round without becoming piqued, peeved, or--in +many cases--chagrined. The caddies on our links, it was said, could +always worst other small boys in verbal argument by calling them some +of the things they had heard Mitchell call his ball on discovering it +in a cuppy lie. He had a great gift of language, and he used it +unsparingly. I will admit that there was some excuse for the man. He +had the makings of a brilliant golfer, but a combination of bad luck +and inconsistent play invariably robbed him of the fruits of his skill. +He was the sort of player who does the first two holes in one under +bogey and then takes an eleven at the third. The least thing upset him +on the links. He missed short putts because of the uproar of the +butterflies in the adjoining meadows. + +It seemed hardly likely that this one kink in an otherwise admirable +character would ever seriously affect his working or professional life, +but it did. One evening, as I was sitting in my garden, Alexander +Paterson was announced. A glance at his face told me that he had come +to ask my advice. Rightly or wrongly, he regarded me as one capable of +giving advice. It was I who had changed the whole current of his life +by counselling him to leave the wood in his bag and take a driving-iron +off the tee; and in one or two other matters, like the choice of a +putter (so much more important than the choice of a wife), I had been +of assistance to him. + +Alexander sat down and fanned himself with his hat, for the evening was +warm. Perplexity was written upon his fine face. + +"I don't know what to do," he said. + +"Keep the head still--slow back--don't press," I said, gravely. There +is no better rule for a happy and successful life. + +"It's nothing to do with golf this time," he said. "It's about the +treasurership of my company. Old Smithers retires next week, and I've +got to find a man to fill his place." + +"That should be easy. You have simply to select the most deserving from +among your other employees." + +"But which _is_ the most deserving? That's the point. There are +two men who are capable of holding the job quite adequately. But then I +realize how little I know of their real characters. It is the +treasurership, you understand, which has to be filled. Now, a man who +was quite good at another job might easily get wrong ideas into his +head when he became a treasurer. He would have the handling of large +sums of money. In other words, a man who in ordinary circumstances had +never been conscious of any desire to visit the more distant portions +of South America might feel the urge, so to speak, shortly after he +became a treasurer. That is my difficulty. Of course, one always takes +a sporting chance with any treasurer; but how am I to find out which of +these two men would give me the more reasonable opportunity of keeping +some of my money?" + +I did not hesitate a moment. I held strong views on the subject of +character-testing. + +"The only way," I said to Alexander, "of really finding out a man's +true character is to play golf with him. In no other walk of life does +the cloven hoof so quickly display itself. I employed a lawyer for +years, until one day I saw him kick his ball out of a heel-mark. I +removed my business from his charge next morning. He has not yet run +off with any trust-funds, but there is a nasty gleam in his eye, and I +am convinced that it is only a question of time. Golf, my dear fellow, +is the infallible test. The man who can go into a patch of rough alone, +with the knowledge that only God is watching him, and play his ball +where it lies, is the man who will serve you faithfully and well. The +man who can smile bravely when his putt is diverted by one of those +beastly wormcasts is pure gold right through. But the man who is hasty, +unbalanced, and violent on the links will display the same qualities in +the wider field of everyday life. You don't want an unbalanced +treasurer do you?" + +"Not if his books are likely to catch the complaint." + +"They are sure to. Statisticians estimate that the average of crime +among good golfers is lower than in any class of the community except +possibly bishops. Since Willie Park won the first championship at +Prestwick in the year 1860 there has, I believe, been no instance of an +Open Champion spending a day in prison. Whereas the bad golfers--and by +bad I do not mean incompetent, but black-souled--the men who fail to +count a stroke when they miss the globe; the men who never replace a +divot; the men who talk while their opponent is driving; and the men +who let their angry passions rise--these are in and out of Wormwood +Scrubbs all the time. They find it hardly worth while to get their hair +cut in their brief intervals of liberty." + +Alexander was visibly impressed. + +"That sounds sensible, by George!" he said. + +"It is sensible." + +"I'll do it! Honestly, I can't see any other way of deciding between +Holmes and Dixon." + +I started. + +"Holmes? Not Mitchell Holmes?" + +"Yes. Of course you must know him? He lives here, I believe." + +"And by Dixon do you mean Rupert Dixon?" + +"That's the man. Another neighbour of yours." + +I confess that my heart sank. It was as if my ball had fallen into the +pit which my niblick had digged. I wished heartily that I had thought +of waiting to ascertain the names of the two rivals before offering my +scheme. I was extremely fond of Mitchell Holmes and of the girl to whom +he was engaged to be married. Indeed, it was I who had sketched out a +few rough notes for the lad to use when proposing; and results had +shown that he had put my stuff across well. And I had listened many a +time with a sympathetic ear to his hopes in the matter of securing a +rise of salary which would enable him to get married. Somehow, when +Alexander was talking, it had not occurred to me that young Holmes +might be in the running for so important an office as the +treasurership. I had ruined the boy's chances. Ordeal by golf was the +one test which he could not possibly undergo with success. Only a +miracle could keep him from losing his temper, and I had expressly +warned Alexander against such a man. + +When I thought of his rival my heart sank still more. Rupert Dixon was +rather an unpleasant young man, but the worst of his enemies could not +accuse him of not possessing the golfing temperament. From the drive +off the tee to the holing of the final putt he was uniformly suave. + + * * * * * + +When Alexander had gone, I sat in thought for some time. I was faced +with a problem. Strictly speaking, no doubt, I had no right to take +sides; and, though secrecy had not been enjoined upon me in so many +words, I was very well aware that Alexander was under the impression +that I would keep the thing under my hat and not reveal to either party +the test that awaited him. Each candidate was, of course, to remain +ignorant that he was taking part in anything but a friendly game. + +But when I thought of the young couple whose future depended on this +ordeal, I hesitated no longer. I put on my hat and went round to Miss +Boyd's house, where I knew that Mitchell was to be found at this hour. + +The young couple were out in the porch, looking at the moon. They +greeted me heartily, but their heartiness had rather a tinny sound, and +I could see that on the whole they regarded me as one of those things +which should not happen. But when I told my story their attitude +changed. They began to look on me in the pleasanter light of a +guardian, philosopher, and friend. + +"Wherever did Mr. Paterson get such a silly idea?" said Miss Boyd, +indignantly. I had--from the best motives--concealed the source of the +scheme. "It's ridiculous!" + +"Oh, I don't know," said Mitchell. "The old boy's crazy about golf. +It's just the sort of scheme he would cook up. Well, it dishes +_me_!" + +"Oh, come!" I said. + +"It's no good saying 'Oh, come!' You know perfectly well that I'm a +frank, outspoken golfer. When my ball goes off nor'-nor'-east when I +want it to go due west I can't help expressing an opinion about it. It +is a curious phenomenon which calls for comment, and I give it. +Similarly, when I top my drive, I have to go on record as saying that I +did not do it intentionally. And it's just these trifles, as far as I +can make out, that are going to decide the thing." + +"Couldn't you learn to control yourself on the links, Mitchell, +darling?" asked Millicent. "After all, golf is only a game!" + +Mitchell's eyes met mine, and I have no doubt that mine showed just the +same look of horror which I saw in his. Women say these things without +thinking. It does not mean that there is any kink in their character. +They simply don't realize what they are saying. + +"Hush!" said Mitchell, huskily, patting her hand and overcoming his +emotion with a strong effort. "Hush, dearest!" + + * * * * * + +Two or three days later I met Millicent coming from the post-office. +There was a new light of happiness in her eyes, and her face was +glowing. + +"Such a splendid thing has happened," she said. "After Mitchell left +that night I happened to be glancing through a magazine, and I came +across a wonderful advertisement. It began by saying that all the great +men in history owed their success to being able to control themselves, +and that Napoleon wouldn't have amounted to anything if he had not +curbed his fiery nature, and then it said that we can all be like +Napoleon if we fill in the accompanying blank order-form for Professor +Orlando Rollitt's wonderful book, 'Are You Your Own Master?' absolutely +free for five days and then seven shillings, but you must write at once +because the demand is enormous and pretty soon it may be too late. I +wrote at once, and luckily I was in time, because Professor Rollitt did +have a copy left, and it's just arrived. I've been looking through it, +and it seems splendid." + +She held out a small volume. I glanced at it. There was a frontispiece +showing a signed photograph of Professor Orlando Rollitt controlling +himself in spite of having long white whiskers, and then some reading +matter, printed between wide margins. One look at the book told me the +professor's methods. To be brief, he had simply swiped Marcus +Aurelius's best stuff, the copyright having expired some two thousand +years ago, and was retailing it as his own. I did not mention this to +Millicent. It was no affair of mine. Presumably, however obscure the +necessity, Professor Rollitt had to live. + +"I'm going to start Mitchell on it today. Don't you think this is good? +'Thou seest how few be the things which if a man has at his command his +life flows gently on and is divine.' I think it will be wonderful if +Mitchell's life flows gently on and is divine for seven shillings, +don't you?" + + * * * * * + +At the club-house that evening I encountered Rupert Dixon. He was +emerging from a shower-bath, and looked as pleased with himself as +usual. + +"Just been going round with old Paterson," he said. "He was asking +after you. He's gone back to town in his car." + +I was thrilled. So the test had begun! + +"How did you come out?" I asked. + +Rupert Dixon smirked. A smirking man, wrapped in a bath towel, with a +wisp of wet hair over one eye, is a repellent sight. + +"Oh, pretty well. I won by six and five. In spite of having poisonous +luck." + +I felt a gleam of hope at these last words. + +"Oh, you had bad luck?" + +"The worst. I over-shot the green at the third with the best +brassey-shot I've ever made in my life--and that's saying a lot--and +lost my ball in the rough beyond it." + +"And I suppose you let yourself go, eh?" + +"Let myself go?" + +"I take it that you made some sort of demonstration?" + +"Oh, no. Losing your temper doesn't get you anywhere at golf. It only +spoils your next shot." + +I went away heavy-hearted. Dixon had plainly come through the ordeal as +well as any man could have done. I expected to hear every day that the +vacant treasurership had been filled, and that Mitchell had not even +been called upon to play his test round. I suppose, however, that +Alexander Paterson felt that it would be unfair to the other competitor +not to give him his chance, for the next I heard of the matter was when +Mitchell Holmes rang me up on the Friday and asked me if I would +accompany him round the links next day in the match he was playing with +Alexander, and give him my moral support. + +"I shall need it," he said. "I don't mind telling you I'm pretty +nervous. I wish I had had longer to get the stranglehold on that 'Are +You Your Own Master?' stuff. I can see, of course, that it is the real +tabasco from start to finish, and absolutely as mother makes it, but +the trouble is I've only had a few days to soak it into my system. It's +like trying to patch up a motor car with string. You never know when +the thing will break down. Heaven knows what will happen if I sink a +ball at the water-hole. And something seems to tell me I am going to do +it." + +There was a silence for a moment. + +"Do you believe in dreams?" asked Mitchell. + +"Believe in what?" + +"Dreams." + +"What about them?" + +"I said, 'Do you believe in dreams?' Because last night I dreamed that +I was playing in the final of the Open Championship, and I got into the +rough, and there was a cow there, and the cow looked at me in a sad +sort of way and said, 'Why don't you use the two-V grip instead of the +interlocking?' At the time it seemed an odd sort of thing to happen, +but I've been thinking it over and I wonder if there isn't something in +it. These things must be sent to us for a purpose." + +"You can't change your grip on the day of an important match." + +"I suppose not. The fact is, I'm a bit jumpy, or I wouldn't have +mentioned it. Oh, well! See you tomorrow at two." + + * * * * * + +The day was bright and sunny, but a tricky cross-wind was blowing when +I reached the club-house. Alexander Paterson was there, practising +swings on the first tee; and almost immediately Mitchell Holmes +arrived, accompanied by Millicent. + +"Perhaps," said Alexander, "we had better be getting under way. Shall I +take the honour?" + +"Certainly," said Mitchell. + +Alexander teed up his ball. + +Alexander Paterson has always been a careful rather than a dashing +player. It is his custom, a sort of ritual, to take two measured +practice-swings before addressing the ball, even on the putting-green. +When he does address the ball he shuffles his feet for a moment or two, +then pauses, and scans the horizon in a suspicious sort of way, as if +he had been expecting it to play some sort of a trick on him when he +was not looking. A careful inspection seems to convince him of the +horizon's _bona fides_, and he turns his attention to the ball +again. He shuffles his feet once more, then raises his club. He waggles +the club smartly over the ball three times, then lays it behind the +globule. At this point he suddenly peers at the horizon again, in the +apparent hope of catching it off its guard. This done, he raises his +club very slowly, brings it back very slowly till it almost touches the +ball, raises it again, brings it down again, raises it once more, and +brings it down for the third time. He then stands motionless, wrapped +in thought, like some Indian fakir contemplating the infinite. Then he +raises his club again and replaces it behind the ball. Finally he +quivers all over, swings very slowly back, and drives the ball for +about a hundred and fifty yards in a dead straight line. + +It is a method of procedure which proves sometimes a little +exasperating to the highly strung, and I watched Mitchell's face +anxiously to see how he was taking his first introduction to it. The +unhappy lad had blenched visibly. He turned to me with the air of one +in pain. + +"Does he always do that?" he whispered. + +"Always," I replied. + +"Then I'm done for! No human being could play golf against a one-ring +circus like that without blowing up!" + +I said nothing. It was, I feared, only too true. Well-poised as I am, I +had long since been compelled to give up playing with Alexander +Paterson, much as I esteemed him. It was a choice between that and +resigning from the Baptist Church. + +At this moment Millicent spoke. There was an open book in her hand. I +recognized it as the life-work of Professor Rollitt. + +"Think on this doctrine," she said, in her soft, modulated voice, "that +to be patient is a branch of justice, and that men sin without +intending it." + +Mitchell nodded briefly, and walked to the tee with a firm step. + +"Before you drive, darling," said Millicent, "remember this. Let no act +be done at haphazard, nor otherwise than according to the finished +rules that govern its kind." + +The next moment Mitchell's ball was shooting through the air, to come +to rest two hundred yards down the course. It was a magnificent drive. +He had followed the counsel of Marcus Aurelius to the letter. + +An admirable iron-shot put him in reasonable proximity to the pin, and +he holed out in one under bogey with one of the nicest putts I have +ever beheld. And when at the next hole, the dangerous water-hole, his +ball soared over the pond and lay safe, giving him bogey for the hole, +I began for the first time to breathe freely. Every golfer has his day, +and this was plainly Mitchell's. He was playing faultless golf. If he +could continue in this vein, his unfortunate failing would have no +chance to show itself. + +The third hole is long and tricky. You drive over a ravine--or possibly +into it. In the latter event you breathe a prayer and call for your +niblick. But, once over the ravine, there is nothing to disturb the +equanimity. Bogey is five, and a good drive, followed by a +brassey-shot, will put you within easy mashie-distance of the green. + +Mitchell cleared the ravine by a hundred and twenty yards. He strolled +back to me, and watched Alexander go through his ritual with an +indulgent smile. I knew just how he was feeling. Never does the world +seem so sweet and fair and the foibles of our fellow human beings so +little irritating as when we have just swatted the pill right on the +spot. + +"I can't see why he does it," said Mitchell, eyeing Alexander with a +toleration that almost amounted to affection. "If I did all those +Swedish exercises before I drove, I should forget what I had come out +for and go home." Alexander concluded the movements, and landed a bare +three yards on the other side of the ravine. "He's what you would call +a steady performer, isn't he? Never varies!" + +Mitchell won the hole comfortably. There was a jauntiness about his +stance on the fourth tee which made me a little uneasy. Over-confidence +at golf is almost as bad as timidity. + +My apprehensions were justified. Mitchell topped his ball. It rolled +twenty yards into the rough, and nestled under a dock-leaf. His mouth +opened, then closed with a snap. He came over to where Millicent and I +were standing. + +"I didn't say it!" he said. "What on earth happened then?" + +"Search men's governing principles," said Millicent, "and consider the +wise, what they shun and what they cleave to." + +"Exactly," I said. "You swayed your body." + +"And now I've got to go and look for that infernal ball." + +"Never mind, darling," said Millicent. "Nothing has such power to +broaden the mind as the ability to investigate systematically and truly +all that comes under thy observation in life." + +"Besides," I said, "you're three up." + +"I shan't be after this hole." + +He was right. Alexander won it in five, one above bogey, and regained +the honour. + +Mitchell was a trifle shaken. His play no longer had its first careless +vigour. He lost the next hole, halved the sixth, lost the short +seventh, and then, rallying, halved the eighth. + +The ninth hole, like so many on our links, can be a perfectly simple +four, although the rolling nature of the green makes bogey always a +somewhat doubtful feat; but, on the other hand, if you foozle your +drive, you can easily achieve double figures. The tee is on the farther +side of the pond, beyond the bridge, where the water narrows almost to +the dimensions of a brook. You drive across this water and over a +tangle of trees and under-growth on the other bank. The distance to the +fairway cannot be more than sixty yards, for the hazard is purely a +mental one, and yet how many fair hopes have been wrecked there! + +Alexander cleared the obstacles comfortably with his customary short, +straight drive, and Mitchell advanced to the tee. + +I think the loss of the honour had been preying on his mind. He seemed +nervous. His up-swing was shaky, and he swayed back perceptibly. He +made a lunge at the ball, sliced it, and it struck a tree on the other +side of the water and fell in the long grass. We crossed the bridge to +look for it; and it was here that the effect of Professor Rollitt began +definitely to wane. + +"Why on earth don't they mow this darned stuff?" demanded Mitchell, +querulously, as he beat about the grass with his niblick. + +"You have to have rough on a course," I ventured. + +"Whatever happens at all," said Millicent, "happens as it should. Thou +wilt find this true if thou shouldst watch narrowly." + +"That's all very well," said Mitchell, watching narrowly in a clump of +weeds but seeming unconvinced. "I believe the Greens Committee run this +bally club purely in the interests of the caddies. I believe they +encourage lost balls, and go halves with the little beasts when they +find them and sell them!" + +Millicent and I exchanged glances. There were tears in her eyes. + +"Oh, Mitchell! Remember Napoleon!" + +"Napoleon! What's Napoleon got to do with it? Napoleon never was +expected to drive through a primeval forest. Besides, what did Napoleon +ever do? Where did Napoleon get off, swanking round as if he amounted +to something? Poor fish! All he ever did was to get hammered at +Waterloo!" + +Alexander rejoined us. He had walked on to where his ball lay. + +"Can't find it, eh? Nasty bit of rough, this!" + +"No, I can't find it. But tomorrow some miserable, chinless, +half-witted reptile of a caddie with pop eyes and eight hundred and +thirty-seven pimples will find it, and will sell it to someone for +sixpence! No, it was a brand-new ball. He'll probably get a shilling +for it. That'll be sixpence for himself and sixpence for the Greens +Committee. No wonder they're buying cars quicker than the makers can +supply them. No wonder you see their wives going about in mink coats +and pearl necklaces. Oh, dash it! I'll drop another!" + +"In that case," Alexander pointed out, "you will, of course, under the +rules governing match-play, lose the hole." + +"All right, then. I'll give up the hole." + +"Then that, I think, makes me one up on the first nine," said +Alexander. "Excellent! A very pleasant, even game." + +"Pleasant! On second thoughts I don't believe the Greens Committee let +the wretched caddies get any of the loot. They hang round behind trees +till the deal's concluded, and then sneak out and choke it out of +them!" + +I saw Alexander raise his eyebrows. He walked up the hill to the next +tee with me. + +"Rather a quick-tempered young fellow, Holmes!" he said, thoughtfully. +"I should never have suspected it. It just shows how little one can +know of a man, only meeting him in business hours." + +I tried to defend the poor lad. + +"He has an excellent heart, Alexander. But the fact is--we are such old +friends that I know you will forgive my mentioning it--your style of +play gets, I fancy, a little on his nerves." + +"My style of play? What's wrong with my style of play?" + +"Nothing is actually wrong with it, but to a young and ardent spirit +there is apt to be something a trifle upsetting in being, compelled to +watch a man play quite so slowly as you do. Come now, Alexander, as one +friend to another, is it necessary to take two practice-swings before +you putt?" + +"Dear, dear!" said Alexander. "You really mean to say that that upsets +him? Well, I'm afraid I am too old to change my methods now." + +I had nothing more to say. + +As we reached the tenth tee, I saw that we were in for a few minutes' +wait. Suddenly I felt a hand on my arm. Millicent was standing beside +me, dejection written on her face. Alexander and young Mitchell were +some distance away from us. + +"Mitchell doesn't want me to come round the rest of the way with him," +she said, despondently. "He says I make him nervous." + +I shook my head. + +"That's bad! I was looking on you as a steadying influence." + +"I thought I was, too. But Mitchell says no. He says my being there +keeps him from concentrating." + +"Then perhaps it would be better for you to remain in the club-house +till we return. There is, I fear, dirty work ahead." + +A choking sob escaped the unhappy girl. + +"I'm afraid so. There is an apple tree near the thirteenth hole, and +Mitchell's caddie is sure to start eating apples. I am thinking of what +Mitchell will do when he hears the crunching when he is addressing his +ball." + +"That is true." + +"Our only hope," she said, holding out Professor Rollitt's book, "is +this. Will you please read him extracts when you see him getting +nervous? We went through the book last night and marked all the +passages in blue pencil which might prove helpful. You will see notes +against them in the margin, showing when each is supposed to be used." + +It was a small favour to ask. I took the book and gripped her hand +silently. Then I joined Alexander and Mitchell on the tenth tee. +Mitchell was still continuing his speculations regarding the Greens +Committee. + +"The hole after this one," he said, "used to be a short hole. There was +no chance of losing a ball. Then, one day, the wife of one of the +Greens Committee happened to mention that the baby needed new shoes, so +now they've tacked on another hundred and fifty yards to it. You have +to drive over the brow of a hill, and if you slice an eighth of an inch +you get into a sort of No Man's Land, full of rocks and bushes and +crevices and old pots and pans. The Greens Committee practically live +there in the summer. You see them prowling round in groups, encouraging +each other with merry cries as they fill their sacks. Well, I'm going +to fool them today. I'm going to drive an old ball which is just +hanging together by a thread. It'll come to pieces when they pick it +up!" + +Golf, however, is a curious game--a game of fluctuations. One might +have supposed that Mitchell, in such a frame of mind, would have +continued to come to grief. But at the beginning of the second nine he +once more found his form. A perfect drive put him in position to reach +the tenth green with an iron-shot, and, though the ball was several +yards from the hole, he laid it dead with his approach-putt and holed +his second for a bogey four. Alexander could only achieve a five, so +that they were all square again. + +The eleventh, the subject of Mitchell's recent criticism, is certainly +a tricky hole, and it is true that a slice does land the player in +grave difficulties. Today, however, both men kept their drives +straight, and found no difficulty in securing fours. + +"A little more of this," said Mitchell, beaming, "and the Greens +Committee will have to give up piracy and go back to work." + +The twelfth is a long, dog-leg hole, bogey five. Alexander plugged +steadily round the bend, holing out in six, and Mitchell, whose second +shot had landed him in some long grass, was obliged to use his niblick. +He contrived, however, to halve the hole with a nicely-judged +mashie-shot to the edge of the green. + +Alexander won the thirteenth. It is a three hundred and sixty yard +hole, free from bunkers. It took Alexander three strokes to reach the +green, but his third laid the ball dead; while Mitchell, who was on in +two, required three putts. + +"That reminds me," said Alexander, chattily, "of a story I heard. +Friend calls out to a beginner, 'How are you getting on, old man?' and +the beginner says, 'Splendidly. I just made three perfect putts on the +last green!'" + +Mitchell did not appear amused. I watched his face anxiously. He had +made no remark, but the missed putt which would have saved the hole had +been very short, and I feared the worst. There was a brooding look in +his eye as we walked to the fourteenth tee. + +There are few more picturesque spots in the whole of the countryside +than the neighbourhood of the fourteenth tee. It is a sight to charm +the nature-lover's heart. + +But, if golf has a defect, it is that it prevents a man being a +whole-hearted lover of nature. Where the layman sees waving grass and +romantic tangles of undergrowth, your golfer beholds nothing but a +nasty patch of rough from which he must divert his ball. The cry of the +birds, wheeling against the sky, is to the golfer merely something that +may put him off his putt. As a spectator, I am fond of the ravine at +the bottom of the slope. It pleases the eye. But, as a golfer, I have +frequently found it the very devil. + +The last hole had given Alexander the honour again. He drove even more +deliberately than before. For quite half a minute he stood over his +ball, pawing at it with his driving-iron like a cat investigating a +tortoise. Finally he despatched it to one of the few safe spots on the +hillside. The drive from this tee has to be carefully calculated, for, +if it be too straight, it will catch the slope and roll down into the +ravine. + +Mitchell addressed his ball. He swung up, and then, from immediately +behind him came a sudden sharp crunching sound. I looked quickly in the +direction whence it came. Mitchell's caddie, with a glassy look in his +eyes, was gnawing a large apple. And even as I breathed a silent +prayer, down came the driver, and the ball, with a terrible slice on +it, hit the side of the hill and bounded into the ravine. + +There was a pause--a pause in which the world stood still. Mitchell +dropped his club and turned. His face was working horribly. + +"Mitchell!" I cried. "My boy! Reflect! Be calm!" + +"Calm! What's the use of being calm when people are chewing apples in +thousands all round you? What _is_ this, anyway--a golf match or a +pleasant day's outing for the children of the poor? Apples! Go on, my +boy, take another bite. Take several. Enjoy yourself! Never mind if it +seems to cause me a fleeting annoyance. Go on with your lunch! You +probably had a light breakfast, eh, and are feeling a little peckish, +yes? If you will wait here, I will run to the clubhouse and get you a +sandwich and a bottle of ginger-ale. Make yourself quite at home, you +lovable little fellow! Sit down and have a good time!" + +I turned the pages of Professor Rollitt's book feverishly. I could not +find a passage that had been marked in blue pencil to meet this +emergency. I selected one at random. + +"Mitchell," I said, "one moment. How much time he gains who does not +look to see what his neighbour says or does, but only at what he does +himself, to make it just and holy." + +"Well, look what I've done myself! I'm somewhere down at the bottom of +that dashed ravine, and it'll take me a dozen strokes to get out. Do +you call that just and holy? Here, give me that book for a moment!" + +He snatched the little volume out of my hands. For an instant he looked +at it with a curious expression of loathing, then he placed it gently +on the ground and jumped on it a few times. Then he hit it with his +driver. Finally, as if feeling that the time for half measures had +passed, he took a little run and kicked it strongly into the long +grass. + +He turned to Alexander, who had been an impassive spectator of the +scene. + +"I'm through!" he said. "I concede the match. Good-bye. You'll find me +in the bay!" + +"Going swimming?" + +"No. Drowning myself." + +A gentle smile broke out over my old friend's usually grave face. He +patted Mitchell's shoulder affectionately. + +"Don't do that, my boy," he said. "I was hoping you would stick around +the office awhile as treasurer of the company." + +Mitchell tottered. He grasped my arm for support. Everything was very +still. Nothing broke the stillness but the humming of the bees, the +murmur of the distant wavelets, and the sound of Mitchell's caddie +going on with his apple. + +"What!" cried Mitchell. + +"The position," said Alexander, "will be falling vacant very shortly, +as no doubt you know. It is yours, if you care to accept it." + +"You mean--you mean--you're going to give me the job?" + +"You have interpreted me exactly." + +Mitchell gulped. So did his caddie. One from a spiritual, the other +from a physical cause. + +"If you don't mind excusing me," said Mitchell, huskily, "I think I'll +be popping back to the club-house. Someone I want to see." + +He disappeared through the trees, running strongly. I turned to +Alexander. + +"What does this mean?" I asked. "I am delighted, but what becomes of +the test?" + +My old friend smiled gently. + +"The test," he replied, "has been eminently satisfactory. +Circumstances, perhaps, have compelled me to modify the original idea +of it, but nevertheless it has been a completely successful test. Since +we started out, I have been doing a good deal of thinking, and I have +come to the conclusion that what the Paterson Dyeing and Refining +Company really needs is a treasurer whom I can beat at golf. And I have +discovered the ideal man. Why," he went on, a look of holy enthusiasm +on his fine old face, "do you realize that I can always lick the +stuffing out of that boy, good player as he is, simply by taking a +little trouble? I can make him get the wind up every time, simply by +taking one or two extra practice-swings! That is the sort of man I need +for a responsible post in my office." + +"But what about Rupert Dixon?" I asked. + +He gave a gesture of distaste. + +"I wouldn't trust that man. Why, when I played with him, everything +went wrong, and he just smiled and didn't say a word. A man who can do +that is not the man to trust with the control of large sums of money. +It wouldn't be safe. Why, the fellow isn't honest! He can't be." He +paused for a moment. "Besides," he added, thoughtfully, "he beat me by +six and five. What's the good of a treasurer who beats the boss by six +and five?" + + + + +7 + +_The Long Hole_ + + +The young man, as he sat filling his pipe in the club-house +smoking-room, was inclined to be bitter. + +"If there's one thing that gives me a pain squarely in the centre of +the gizzard," he burst out, breaking a silence that had lasted for some +minutes, "it's a golf-lawyer. They oughtn't to be allowed on the +links." + +The Oldest Member, who had been meditatively putting himself outside a +cup of tea and a slice of seed-cake, raised his white eyebrows. + +"The Law," he said, "is an honourable profession. Why should its +practitioners be restrained from indulgence in the game of games?" + +"I don't mean actual lawyers," said the young man, his acerbity +mellowing a trifle under the influence of tobacco. "I mean the +blighters whose best club is the book of rules. You know the sort of +excrescences. Every time you think you've won a hole, they dig out Rule +eight hundred and fifty-three, section two, sub-section four, to prove +that you've disqualified yourself by having an ingrowing toe-nail. +Well, take my case." The young man's voice was high and plaintive. "I +go out with that man Hemmingway to play an ordinary friendly +round--nothing depending on it except a measly ball--and on the seventh +he pulls me up and claims the hole simply because I happened to drop my +niblick in the bunker. Oh, well, a tick's a tick, and there's nothing +more to say, I suppose." + +The Sage shook his head. + +"Rules are rules, my boy, and must be kept. It is odd that you should +have brought up this subject, for only a moment before you came in I +was thinking of a somewhat curious match which ultimately turned upon a +question of the rule-book. It is true that, as far as the actual prize +was concerned, it made little difference. But perhaps I had better tell +you the whole story from the beginning." + +The young man shifted uneasily in his chair. + +"Well, you know, I've had a pretty rotten time this afternoon +already----" + +"I will call my story," said the Sage, tranquilly, "'The Long Hole', +for it involved the playing of what I am inclined to think must be the +longest hole in the history of golf. In its beginnings the story may +remind you of one I once told you about Peter Willard and James Todd, +but you will find that it develops in quite a different manner. Ralph +Bingham...." + +"I half promised to go and see a man----" + +"But I will begin at the beginning," said the Sage. "I see that you are +all impatience to hear the full details." + + * * * * * + +Ralph Bingham and Arthur Jukes (said the Oldest Member) had never been +friends--their rivalry was too keen to admit of that--but it was not +till Amanda Trivett came to stay here that a smouldering distaste for +each other burst out into the flames of actual enmity. It is ever so. +One of the poets, whose name I cannot recall, has a passage, which I am +unable at the moment to remember, in one of his works, which for the +time being has slipped my mind, which hits off admirably this age-old +situation. The gist of his remarks is that lovely woman rarely fails to +start something. In the weeks that followed her arrival, being in the +same room with the two men was like dropping in on a reunion of +Capulets and Montagues. + +You see, Ralph and Arthur were so exactly equal in their skill on the +links that life for them had for some time past resolved itself into a +silent, bitter struggle in which first one, then the other, gained some +slight advantage. If Ralph won the May medal by a stroke, Arthur would +be one ahead in the June competition, only to be nosed out again in +July. It was a state of affairs which, had they been men of a more +generous stamp, would have bred a mutual respect, esteem, and even +love. But I am sorry to say that, apart from their golf, which was in a +class of its own as far as this neighbourhood was concerned, Ralph +Bingham and Arthur Jukes were a sorry pair--and yet, mark you, far from +lacking in mere superficial good looks. They were handsome fellows, +both of them, and well aware of the fact; and when Amanda Trivett came +to stay they simply straightened their ties, twirled their moustaches, +and expected her to do the rest. + +But there they were disappointed. Perfectly friendly though she was to +both of them, the lovelight was conspicuously absent from her beautiful +eyes. And it was not long before each had come independently to a +solution of this mystery. It was plain to them that the whole trouble +lay in the fact that each neutralized the other's attractions. Arthur +felt that, if he could only have a clear field, all would be over +except the sending out of the wedding invitations; and Ralph was of the +opinion that, if he could just call on the girl one evening without +finding the place all littered up with Arthur, his natural charms would +swiftly bring home the bacon. And, indeed, it was true that they had no +rivals except themselves. It happened at the moment that Woodhaven was +very short of eligible bachelors. We marry young in this delightful +spot, and all the likely men were already paired off. It seemed that, +if Amanda Trivett intended to get married, she would have to select +either Ralph Bingham or Arthur Jukes. A dreadful choice. + + * * * * * + +It had not occurred to me at the outset that my position in the affair +would be anything closer than that of a detached and mildly interested +spectator. Yet it was to me that Ralph came in his hour of need. When I +returned home one evening, I found that my man had brought him in and +laid him on the mat in my sitting-room. + +I offered him a chair and a cigar, and he came to the point with +commendable rapidity. + +"Leigh," he said, directly he had lighted his cigar, "is too small for +Arthur Jukes and myself." + +"Ah, you have been talking it over and decided to move?" I said, +delighted. "I think you are perfectly right. Leigh _is_ over-built. +Men like you and Jukes need a lot of space. Where do you think of +going?" + +"I'm not going." + +"But I thought you said----" + +"What I meant was that the time has come when one of us must leave." + +"Oh, only one of you?" It was something, of course, but I confess I was +disappointed, and I think my disappointment must have shown in my +voice; for he looked at me, surprised. + +"Surely you wouldn't mind Jukes going?" he said. + +"Why, certainly not. He really is going, is he?" + +A look of saturnine determination came into Ralph's face. + +"He is. He thinks he isn't, but he is." + +I failed to understand him, and said so. He looked cautiously about the +room, as if to reassure himself that he could not be overheard. + +"I suppose you've noticed," he said, "the disgusting way that man Jukes +has been hanging round Miss Trivett, boring her to death?" + +"I have seen them together sometimes." + +"I love Amanda Trivett!" said Ralph. + +"Poor girl!" I sighed. + +"I beg your pardon?" + +"Poor girl!" I said. "I mean, to have Arthur Jukes hanging round her." + +"That's just what I think," said Ralph Bingham. "And that's why we're +going to play this match." + +"What match?" + +"This match we've decided to play. I want you to act as one of the +judges, to go along with Jukes and see that he doesn't play any of his +tricks. You know what he is! And in a vital match like this----" + +"How much are you playing for?" + +"The whole world!" + +"I beg your pardon?" + +"The whole world. It amounts to that. The loser is to leave Leigh for +good, and the winner stays on and marries Amanda Trivett. We have +arranged all the details. Rupert Bailey will accompany me, acting as +the other judge." + +"And you want me to go round with Jukes?" + +"Not round," said Ralph Bingham. "Along." + +"What is the distinction?" + +"We are not going to play a round. Only one hole." + +"Sudden death, eh?" + +"Not so very sudden. It's a longish hole. We start on the first tee +here and hole out in the town in the doorway of the Majestic Hotel in +Royal Square. A distance, I imagine, of about sixteen miles." + +I was revolted. About that time a perfect epidemic of freak matches had +broken out in the club, and I had strongly opposed them from the start. +George Willis had begun it by playing a medal round with the pro., +George's first nine against the pro.'s complete eighteen. After that +came the contest between Herbert Widgeon and Montague Brown, the +latter, a twenty-four handicap man, being entitled to shout "Boo!" +three times during the round at moments selected by himself. There had +been many more of these degrading travesties on the sacred game, and I +had writhed to see them. Playing freak golf-matches is to my mind like +ragging a great classical melody. But of the whole collection this one, +considering the sentimental interest and the magnitude of the stakes, +seemed to me the most terrible. My face, I imagine, betrayed my +disgust, for Bingham attempted extenuation. + +"It's the only way," he said. "You know how Jukes and I are on the +links. We are as level as two men can be. This, of course is due to his +extraordinary luck. Everybody knows that he is the world's champion +fluker. I, on the other hand, invariably have the worst luck. The +consequence is that in an ordinary round it is always a toss-up which +of us wins. The test we propose will eliminate luck. After sixteen +miles of give-and-take play, I am certain--that is to say, the better +man is certain to be ahead. That is what I meant when I said that +Arthur Jukes would shortly be leaving Leigh. Well, may I take it that +you will consent to act as one of the judges?" + +I considered. After all, the match was likely to be historic, and one +always feels tempted to hand one's name down to posterity. + +"Very well," I said. + +"Excellent. You will have to keep a sharp eye on Jukes, I need scarcely +remind you. You will, of course, carry a book of the rules in your +pocket and refer to them when you wish to refresh your memory. We start +at daybreak, for, if we put it off till later, the course at the other +end might be somewhat congested when we reached it. We want to avoid +publicity as far as possible. If I took a full iron and hit a +policeman, it would excite a remark." + +"It would. I can tell you the exact remark which it would excite." + +"We will take bicycles with us, to minimize the fatigue of covering the +distance. Well, I am glad that we have your co-operation. At daybreak +tomorrow on the first tee, and don't forget to bring your rule-book." + + * * * * * + +The atmosphere brooding over the first tee when I reached it on the +following morning, somewhat resembled that of a duelling-ground in the +days when these affairs were sealed with rapiers or pistols. Rupert +Bailey, an old friend of mine, was the only cheerful member of the +party. I am never at my best in the early morning, and the two rivals +glared at each other with silent sneers. I had never supposed till that +moment that men ever really sneered at one another outside the movies, +but these two were indisputably doing so. They were in the mood when +men say "Pshaw!" + +They tossed for the honour, and Arthur Jukes, having won, drove off +with a fine ball that landed well down the course. Ralph Bingham, +having teed up, turned to Rupert Bailey. + +"Go down on to the fairway of the seventeenth," he said. "I want you to +mark my ball." + +Rupert stared. + +"The seventeenth!" + +"I am going to take that direction," said Ralph, pointing over the +trees. + +"But that will land your second or third shot in the lake." + +"I have provided for that. I have a fiat-bottomed boat moored close by +the sixteenth green. I shall use a mashie-niblick and chip my ball +aboard, row across to the other side, chip it ashore, and carry on. I +propose to go across country as far as Woodfield. I think it will save +me a stroke or two." + +I gasped. I had never before realized the man's devilish cunning. His +tactics gave him a flying start. Arthur, who had driven straight down +the course, had as his objective the high road, which adjoins the waste +ground beyond the first green. Once there, he would play the orthodox +game by driving his ball along till he reached the bridge. While Arthur +was winding along the high road, Ralph would have cut off practically +two sides of a triangle. And it was hopeless for Arthur to imitate his +enemy's tactics now. From where his ball lay he would have to cross a +wide tract of marsh in order to reach the seventeenth fairway--an +impossible feat. And, even if it had been feasible, he had no boat to +take him across the water. + +He uttered a violent protest. He was an unpleasant young man, +almost--it seems absurd to say so, but almost as unpleasant as Ralph +Bingham; yet at the moment I am bound to say I sympathized with him. + +"What are you doing?" he demanded. "You can't play fast and loose with +the rules like that." + +"To what rule do you refer?" said Ralph, coldly. + +"Well, that bally boat of yours is a hazard, isn't it? And you can't +row a hazard about all over the place." + +"Why not?" + +The simple question seemed to take Arthur Jukes aback. + +"Why not?" he repeated. "Why not? Well, you can't. That's why." + +"There is nothing in the rules," said Ralph Bingham, "against moving a +hazard. If a hazard can be moved without disturbing the ball, you are +at liberty, I gather, to move it wherever you please. Besides, what is +all this about moving hazards? I have a perfect right to go for a +morning row, haven't I? If I were to ask my doctor, he would probably +actually recommend it. I am going to row my boat across the sound. If +it happens to have my ball on board, that is not my affair. I shall not +disturb my ball, and I shall play it from where it lies. Am I right in +saying that the rules enact that the ball shall be played from where it +lies?" + +We admitted that it was. + +"Very well, then," said Ralph Bingham. "Don't let us waste any more +time. We will wait for you at Woodfield." + +He addressed his ball, and drove a beauty over the trees. It flashed +out of sight in the direction of the seventeenth tee. Arthur and I made +our way down the hill to play our second. + + * * * * * + +It is a curious trait of the human mind that, however little personal +interest one may have in the result, it is impossible to prevent +oneself taking sides in any event of a competitive nature. I had +embarked on this affair in a purely neutral spirit, not caring which of +the two won and only sorry that both could not lose. Yet, as the +morning wore on, I found myself almost unconsciously becoming +distinctly pro-Jukes. I did not like the man. I objected to his face, +his manners, and the colour of his tie. Yet there was something in the +dogged way in which he struggled against adversity which touched me and +won my grudging support. Many men, I felt, having been so outmanoeuvred +at the start, would have given up the contest in despair; but Arthur +Jukes, for all his defects, had the soul of a true golfer. He declined +to give up. In grim silence he hacked his ball through the rough till +he reached the high road; and then, having played twenty-seven, set +himself resolutely to propel it on its long journey. + +It was a lovely morning, and, as I bicycled along, keeping a fatherly +eye on Arthur's activities, I realized for the first time in my life +the full meaning of that exquisite phrase of Coleridge: + + _"Clothing the palpable and familiar + With golden exhalations of the dawn,"_ + +for in the pellucid air everything seemed weirdly beautiful, even +Arthur Jukes' heather-mixture knickerbockers, of which hitherto I had +never approved. The sun gleamed on their seat, as he bent to make his +shots, in a cheerful and almost a poetic way. The birds were singing +gaily in the hedgerows, and such was my uplifted state that I, too, +burst into song, until Arthur petulantly desired me to refrain, on the +plea that, though he yielded to no man in his enjoyment of farmyard +imitations in their proper place, I put him off his stroke. And so we +passed through Bayside in silence and started to cover that long +stretch of road which ends in the railway bridge and the gentle descent +into Woodfield. + +Arthur was not doing badly. He was at least keeping them straight. And +in the circumstances straightness was to be preferred to distance. Soon +after leaving Little Hadley he had become ambitious and had used his +brassey with disastrous results, slicing his fifty-third into the rough +on the right of the road. It had taken him ten with the niblick to get +back on to the car tracks, and this had taught him prudence. + +He was now using his putter for every shot, and, except when he got +trapped in the cross-lines at the top of the hill just before reaching +Bayside, he had been in no serious difficulties. He was playing a nice +easy game, getting the full face of the putter on to each shot. + +At the top of the slope that drops down into Woodfield High Street he +paused. + +"I think I might try my brassey again here," he said. "I have a nice +lie." + +"Is it wise?" I said. + +He looked down the hill. + +"What I was thinking," he said, "was that with it I might wing that man +Bingham. I see he is standing right out in the middle of the fairway." + +I followed his gaze. It was perfectly true. Ralph Bingham was leaning +on his bicycle in the roadway, smoking a cigarette. Even at this +distance one could detect the man's disgustingly complacent expression. +Rupert Bailey was sitting with his back against the door of the +Woodfield Garage, looking rather used up. He was a man who liked to +keep himself clean and tidy, and it was plain that the cross-country +trip had done him no good. He seemed to be scraping mud off his face. I +learned later that he had had the misfortune to fall into a ditch just +beyond Bayside. + +"No," said Arthur. "On second thoughts, the safe game is the one to +play. I'll stick to the putter." + +We dropped down the hill, and presently came up with the opposition. I +had not been mistaken in thinking that Ralph Bingham looked complacent. +The man was smirking. + +"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." + +"Pah!" said Arthur. + +"You can't win now." + +"Pshaw!" said Arthur. + +I am aware that Arthur's dialogue might have been brighter, but he had +been through a trying time. + +Rupert Bailey sidled up to me. + +"I'm going home," he said. + +"Nonsense!" I replied. "You are in an official capacity. You must stick +to your post. Besides, what could be nicer than a pleasant morning +ramble?" + +"Pleasant morning ramble my number nine foot!" he replied, peevishly. +"I want to get back to civilization and set an excavating party with +pickaxes to work on me." + +"You take too gloomy a view of the matter. You are a little dusty. +Nothing more." + +"And it's not only the being buried alive that I mind. I cannot stick +Ralph Bingham much longer." + +"You have found him trying?" + +"Trying! Why, after I had fallen into that ditch and was coming up for +the third time, all the man did was simply to call to me to admire an +infernal iron shot he had just made. No sympathy, mind you! Wrapped up +in himself. Why don't you make your man give up the match? He can't +win." + +"I refuse to admit it. Much may happen between here and Royal Square." + +I have seldom known a prophecy more swiftly fulfilled. At this moment +the doors of the Woodfield Garage opened and a small car rolled out +with a grimy young man in a sweater at the wheel. He brought the +machine out into the road, and alighted and went back into the garage, +where we heard him shouting unintelligibly to someone in the rear +premises. The car remained puffing and panting against the kerb. + +Engaged in conversation with Rupert Bailey, I was paying little +attention to this evidence of an awakening world, when suddenly I heard +a hoarse, triumphant cry from Arthur Jukes, and, turned, I perceived +his ball dropping neatly into the car's interior. Arthur himself, +brandishing a niblick, was dancing about in the fairway. + +"Now what about your moving hazards?" he cried. + +At this moment the man in the sweater returned, carrying a spanner. +Arthur Jukes sprang towards him. + +"I'll give you five pounds to drive me to Royal Square," he said. + +I do not know what the sweater-clad young man's engagements for the +morning had been originally, but nothing could have been more obliging +than the ready way in which he consented to revise them at a moment's +notice. I dare say you have noticed that the sturdy peasantry of our +beloved land respond to an offer of five pounds as to a bugle-call. + +"You're on," said the youth. + +"Good!" said Arthur Jukes. + +"You think you're darned clever," said Ralph Bingham. + +"I know it," said Arthur. + +"Well, then," said Ralph, "perhaps you will tell us how you propose to +get the ball out of the car when you reach Royal Square?" + +"Certainly," replied Arthur. "You will observe on the side of the +vehicle a convenient handle which, when turned, opens the door. The +door thus opened, I shall chip my ball out!" + +"I see," said Ralph. "Yes, I never thought of that." + +There was something in the way the man spoke that I did not like. His +mildness seemed to me suspicious. He had the air of a man who has +something up his sleeve. I was still musing on this when Arthur called +to me impatiently to get in. I did so, and we drove off. Arthur was in +great spirits. He had ascertained from the young man at the wheel that +there was no chance of the opposition being able to hire another car at +the garage. This machine was his own property, and the only other one +at present in the shop was suffering from complicated trouble of the +oiling-system and would not be able to be moved for at least another +day. + +I, however, shook my head when he pointed out the advantages of his +position. I was still wondering about Ralph. + +"I don't like it," I said. + +"Don't like what?" + +"Ralph Bingham's manner." + +"Of course not," said Arthur. "Nobody does. There have been complaints +on all sides." + +"I mean, when you told him how you intended to get the ball out of the +car." + +"What was the matter with him?" + +"He was too--ha!" + +"How do you mean he was too--ha?" + +"I have it!" + +"What?" + +"I see the trap he was laying for you. It has just dawned on me. No +wonder he didn't object to your opening the door and chipping the ball +out. By doing so you would forfeit the match." + +"Nonsense! Why?" + +"Because," I said, "it is against the rules to tamper with a hazard. If +you had got into a sand-bunker, would you smooth away the sand? If you +had put your shot under a tree, could your caddie hold up the branches +to give you a clear shot? Obviously you would disqualify yourself if +you touched that door." + +Arthur's jaw dropped. + +"What! Then how the deuce am I to get it out?" + +"That," I said, gravely, "is a question between you and your Maker." + +It was here that Arthur Jukes forfeited the sympathy which I had begun +to feel for him. A crafty, sinister look came into his eyes. + +"Listen!" he said. "It'll take them an hour to catch up with us. +Suppose, during that time, that door happened to open accidentally, as +it were, and close again? You wouldn't think it necessary to mention +the fact, eh? You would be a good fellow and keep your mouth shut, yes? +You might even see your way to go so far as to back me up in a +statement to the effect that I hooked it out with my----?" + +I was revolted. + +"I am a golfer," I said, coldly, "and I obey the rules." + +"Yes, but----" + +"Those rules were drawn up by----"--I bared my head reverently--"by the +Committee of the Royal and Ancient at St. Andrews. I have always +respected them, and I shall not deviate on this occasion from the +policy of a lifetime." + +Arthur Jukes relapsed into a moody silence. He broke it once, crossing +the West Street Bridge, to observe that he would like to know if I +called myself a friend of his--a question which I was able to answer +with a whole-hearted negative. After that he did not speak till the car +drew up in front of the Majestic Hotel in Royal Square. + +Early as the hour was, a certain bustle and animation already prevailed +in that centre of the city, and the spectacle of a man in a golf-coat +and plus-four knickerbockers hacking with a niblick at the floor of a +car was not long in collecting a crowd of some dimensions. Three +messenger-boys, four typists, and a gentleman in full evening-dress, +who obviously possessed or was friendly with someone who possessed a +large cellar, formed the nucleus of it; and they were joined about the +time when Arthur addressed the ball in order to play his nine hundred +and fifteenth by six news-boys, eleven charladies, and perhaps a dozen +assorted loafers, all speculating with the liveliest interest as to +which particular asylum had had the honour of sheltering Arthur before +he had contrived to elude the vigilance of his custodians. + +Arthur had prepared for some such contingency. He suspended his +activities with the niblick, and drew from his pocket a large poster, +which he proceeded to hang over the side of the car. It read: + + COME + TO + McCLURG AND MACDONALD, + 18, WEST STREET, + FOR + ALL GOLFING SUPPLIES. + +His knowledge of psychology had not misled him. Directly they gathered +that he was advertising something, the crowd declined to look at it; +they melted away, and Arthur returned to his work in solitude. + +He was taking a well-earned rest after playing his eleven hundred and +fifth, a nice niblick shot with lots of wrist behind it, when out of +Bridle Street there trickled a weary-looking golf-ball, followed in the +order named by Ralph Bingham, resolute but going a trifle at the knees, +and Rupert Bailey on a bicycle. The latter, on whose face and limbs the +mud had dried, made an arresting spectacle. + +"What are you playing?" I inquired. + +"Eleven hundred," said Rupert. "We got into a casual dog." + +"A casual dog?" + +"Yes, just before the bridge. We were coming along nicely, when a stray +dog grabbed our nine hundred and ninety-eighth and took it nearly back +to Woodfield, and we had to start all over again. How are you getting +on?" + +"We have just played our eleven hundred and fifth. A nice even game." I +looked at Ralph's ball, which was lying close to the kerb. "You are +farther from the hole, I think. Your shot, Bingham." + +Rupert Bailey suggested breakfast. He was a man who was altogether too +fond of creature comforts. He had not the true golfing spirit. + +"Breakfast!" I exclaimed. + +"Breakfast," said Rupert, firmly. "If you don't know what it is, I can +teach you in half a minute. You play it with a pot of coffee, a knife +and fork, and about a hundred-weight of scrambled eggs. Try it. It's a +pastime that grows on you." + +I was surprised when Ralph Bingham supported the suggestion. He was so +near holing out that I should have supposed that nothing would have +kept him from finishing the match. But he agreed heartily. + +"Breakfast," he said, "is an excellent idea. You go along in. I'll +follow in a moment. I want to buy a paper." + +We went into the hotel, and a few minutes later he joined us. Now that +we were actually at the table, I confess that the idea of breakfast was +by no means repugnant to me. The keen air and the exercise had given me +an appetite, and it was some little time before I was able to assure +the waiter definitely that he could cease bringing orders of scrambled +eggs. The others having finished also, I suggested a move. I was +anxious to get the match over and be free to go home. + +We filed out of the hotel, Arthur Jukes leading. When I had passed +through the swing-doors, I found him gazing perplexedly up and down the +street. + +"What is the matter?" I asked. + +"It's gone!" + +"What has gone?" + +"The car!" + +"Oh, the car?" said Ralph Bingham. "That's all right. Didn't I tell you +about that? I bought it just now and engaged the driver as my +chauffeur, I've been meaning to buy a car for a long time. A man ought +to have a car." + +"Where is it?" said Arthur, blankly. The man seemed dazed. + +"I couldn't tell you to a mile or two," replied Ralph. "I told the man +to drive to Glasgow. Why? Had you any message for him?" + +"But my ball was inside it!" + +"Now that," said Ralph, "is really unfortunate! Do you mean to tell me +you hadn't managed to get it out yet? Yes, that is a little awkward for +you. I'm afraid it means that you lose the match." + +"Lose the match?" + +"Certainly. The rules are perfectly definite on that point. A period of +five minutes is allowed for each stroke. The player who fails to make +his stroke within that time loses the hole. Unfortunate, but there it +is!" + +Arthur Jukes sank down on the path and buried his face in his hands. He +had the appearance of a broken man. Once more, I am bound to say, I +felt a certain pity for him. He had certainly struggled gamely, and it +was hard to be beaten like this on the post. + +"Playing eleven hundred and one," said Ralph Bingham, in his odiously +self-satisfied voice, as he addressed his ball. He laughed jovially. A +messenger-boy had paused close by and was watching the proceedings +gravely. Ralph Bingham patted him on the head. + +"Well, sonny," he said, "what club would _you_ use here?" + +"I claim the match!" cried Arthur Jukes, springing up. Ralph Bingham +regarded him coldly. + +"I beg your pardon?" + +"I claim the match!" repeated Arthur Jukes. "The rules say that a +player who asks advice from any person other than his caddie shall lose +the hole." + +"This is absurd!" said Ralph, but I noticed that he had turned pale. + +"I appeal to the judges." + +"We sustain the appeal," I said, after a brief consultation with Rupert +Bailey. "The rule is perfectly clear." + +"But you had lost the match already by not playing within five +minutes," said Ralph, vehemently. + +"It was not my turn to play. You were farther from the pin." + +"Well, play now. Go on! Let's see you make your shot." + +"There is no necessity," said Arthur, frigidly. "Why should I play when +you have already disqualified yourself?" + +"I claim a draw!" + +"I deny the claim." + +"I appeal to the judges." + +"Very well. We will leave it to the judges." + +I consulted with Rupert Bailey. It seemed to me that Arthur Jukes was +entitled to the verdict. Rupert, who, though an amiable and delightful +companion, had always been one of Nature's fat-heads, could not see it. +We had to go back to our principals and announce that we had been +unable to agree. + +"This is ridiculous," said Ralph Bingham. "We ought to have had a third +judge." + +At this moment, who should come out of the hotel but Amanda Trivett! A +veritable goddess from the machine. + +"It seems to me," I said, "that you would both be well advised to leave +the decision to Miss Trivett. You could have no better referee." + +"I'm game," said Arthur Jukes. + +"Suits _me_," said Ralph Bingham. + +"Why, whatever are you all doing here with your golf-clubs?" asked the +girl, wonderingly. + +"These two gentlemen," I explained, "have been playing a match, and a +point has arisen on which the judges do not find themselves in +agreement. We need an unbiased outside opinion, and we should like to +put it up to you. The facts are as follows:..." + +Amanda Trivett listened attentively, but, when I had finished, she +shook her head. + +"I'm afraid I don't know enough about the game to be able to decide a +question like that," she said. + +"Then we must consult St. Andrews," said Rupert Bailey. + +"I'll tell you who might know," said Amanda Trivett, after a moment's +thought. + +"Who is that?" I asked. + +"My _fiance_. He has just come back from a golfing holiday. That's +why I'm in town this morning. I've been to meet him. He is very good at +golf. He won a medal at Little-Mudbury-in-the-Wold the day before he +left." + +There was a tense silence. I had the delicacy not to look at Ralph or +Arthur. Then the silence was broken by a sharp crack. Ralph Bingham had +broken his mashie-niblick across his knee. From the direction where +Arthur Jukes was standing there came a muffled gulp. + +"Shall I ask him?" said Amanda Trivett. + +"Don't bother," said Ralph Bingham. + +"It doesn't matter," said Arthur Jukes. + + + + +8 + +_The Heel of Achilles_ + + +On the young man's face, as he sat sipping his ginger-ale in the +club-house smoking-room, there was a look of disillusionment. "Never +again!" he said. + +The Oldest Member glanced up from his paper. + +"You are proposing to give up golf once more?" he queried. + +"Not golf. Betting on golf." The Young Man frowned. "I've just been let +down badly. Wouldn't you have thought I had a good thing, laying seven +to one on McTavish against Robinson?" + +"Undoubtedly," said the Sage. "The odds, indeed, generous as they are, +scarcely indicate the former's superiority. Do you mean to tell me that +the thing came unstitched?" + +"Robinson won in a walk, after being three down at the turn. + +"Strange! What happened?" + +"Why, they looked in at the bar to have a refresher before starting for +the tenth," said the young man, his voice quivering, "and McTavish +suddenly discovered that there was a hole in his trouser-pocket and +sixpence had dropped out. He worried so frightfully about it that on +the second nine he couldn't do a thing right. Went completely off his +game and didn't win a hole." + +The Sage shook his head gravely. + +"If this is really going to be a lesson to you, my boy, never to bet on +the result of a golf-match, it will be a blessing in disguise. There is +no such thing as a certainty in golf. I wonder if I ever told you a +rather curious episode in the career of Vincent Jopp?" + +"_The_ Vincent Jopp? The American multi-millionaire?" + +"The same. You never knew he once came within an ace of winning the +American Amateur Championship, did you?" + +"I never heard of his playing golf." + +"He played for one season. After that he gave it up and has not touched +a club since. Ring the bell and get me a small lime-juice, and I will +tell you all." + + * * * * * + +It was long before your time (said the Oldest Member) that the events +which I am about to relate took place. I had just come down from +Cambridge, and was feeling particularly pleased with myself because I +had secured the job of private and confidential secretary to Vincent +Jopp, then a man in the early thirties, busy in laying the foundations +of his present remarkable fortune. He engaged me, and took me with him +to Chicago. + +Jopp was, I think, the most extraordinary personality I have +encountered in a long and many-sided life. He was admirably equipped +for success in finance, having the steely eye and square jaw without +which it is hopeless for a man to enter that line of business. He +possessed also an overwhelming confidence in himself, and the ability +to switch a cigar from one corner of his mouth to the other without +wiggling his ears, which, as you know, is the stamp of the true Monarch +of the Money Market. He was the nearest approach to the financier on +the films, the fellow who makes his jaw-muscles jump when he is +telephoning, that I have ever seen. + +Like all successful men, he was a man of method. He kept a pad on his +desk on which he would scribble down his appointments, and it was my +duty on entering the office each morning to take this pad and type its +contents neatly in a loose-leaved ledger. Usually, of course, these +entries referred to business appointments and deals which he was +contemplating, but one day I was interested to note, against the date +May 3rd, the entry: + + "_Propose to Amelia_" + +I was interested, as I say, but not surprised. Though a man of steel +and iron, there was nothing of the celibate about Vincent Jopp. He was +one of those men who marry early and often. On three separate occasions +before I joined his service he had jumped off the dock, to scramble +back to shore again later by means of the Divorce Court lifebelt. +Scattered here and there about the country there were three ex-Mrs. +Jopps, drawing their monthly envelope, and now, it seemed, he +contemplated the addition of a fourth to the platoon. + +I was not surprised, I say, at this resolve of his. What did seem a +little remarkable to me was the thorough way in which he had thought +the thing out. This iron-willed man recked nothing of possible +obstacles. Under the date of June 1st was the entry: + + "_Marry Amelia_"; + +while in March of the following year he had arranged to have his +first-born christened Thomas Reginald. Later on, the short-coating of +Thomas Reginald was arranged for, and there was a note about sending +him to school. Many hard things have been said of Vincent Jopp, but +nobody has ever accused him of not being a man who looked ahead. + +On the morning of May 4th Jopp came into the office, looking, I +fancied, a little thoughtful. He sat for some moments staring before +him with his brow a trifle furrowed; then he seemed to come to himself. +He rapped his desk. + +"Hi! You!" he said. It was thus that he habitually addressed me. + +"Mr. Jopp?" I replied. + +"What's golf?" + +I had at that time just succeeded in getting my handicap down into +single figures, and I welcomed the opportunity of dilating on the +noblest of pastimes. But I had barely begun my eulogy when he stopped +me. + +"It's a game, is it?" + +"I suppose you could call it that," I said, "but it is an offhand way +of describing the holiest----" + +"How do you play it?" + +"Pretty well," I said. "At the beginning of the season I didn't seem +able to keep 'em straight at all, but lately I've been doing fine. +Getting better every day. Whether it was that I was moving my head or +gripping too tightly with the right hand----" + +"Keep the reminiscences for your grandchildren during the long winter +evenings," he interrupted, abruptly, as was his habit. "What I want to +know is what a fellow does when he plays golf. Tell me in as few words +as you can just what it's all about." + +"You hit a ball with a stick till it falls into a hole." + +"Easy!" he snapped. "Take dictation." + +I produced my pad. + +"May the fifth, take up golf. What's an Amateur Championship?" + +"It is the annual competition to decide which is the best player among +the amateurs. There is also a Professional Championship, and an Open +event." + +"Oh, there are golf professionals, are there? What do they do?" + +"They teach golf." + +"Which is the best of them?" + +"Sandy McHoots won both British and American Open events last year." + +"Wire him to come here at once." + +"But McHoots is in Inverlochty, in Scotland." + +"Never mind. Get him; tell him to name his own terms. When is the +Amateur Championship?" + +"I think it is on September the twelfth this year." + +"All right, take dictation. September twelfth win Amateur +Championship." + +I stared at him in amazement, but he was not looking at me. + +"Got that?" he said. "September thir--Oh, I was forgetting! Add +September twelfth, corner wheat. September thirteenth, marry Amelia." + +"Marry Amelia," I echoed, moistening my pencil. + +"Where do you play this--what's-its-name--golf?" + +"There are clubs all over the country. I belong to the Wissahicky +Glen." + +"That a good place?" + +"Very good." + +"Arrange today for my becoming a member." + + * * * * * + +Sandy McHoots arrived in due course, and was shown into the private +office. + +"Mr. McHoots?" said Vincent Jopp. + +"Mphm!" said the Open Champion. + +"I have sent for you, Mr. McHoots, because I hear that you are the +greatest living exponent of this game of golf." + +"Aye," said the champion, cordially. "I am that." + +"I wish you to teach me the game. I am already somewhat behind schedule +owing to the delay incident upon your long journey, so let us start at +once. Name a few of the most important points in connection with the +game. My secretary will make notes of them, and I will memorize them. +In this way we shall save time. Now, what is the most important thing +to remember when playing golf?" + +"Keep your heid still." + +"A simple task." + +"Na sae simple as it soonds." + +"Nonsense!" said Vincent Jopp, curtly. "If I decide to keep my head +still, I shall keep it still. What next?" + +"Keep yer ee on the ba'." + +"It shall be attended to. And the next?" + +"Dinna press." + +"I won't. And to resume." + +Mr. McHoots ran through a dozen of the basic rules, and I took them +down in shorthand. Vincent Jopp studied the list. + +"Very good. Easier than I had supposed. On the first tee at Wissahicky +Glen at eleven sharp tomorrow, Mr. McHoots. Hi! You!" + +"Sir?" I said. + +"Go out and buy me a set of clubs, a red jacket, a cloth cap, a pair of +spiked shoes, and a ball." + +"One ball?" + +"Certainly. What need is there of more?" + +"It sometimes happens," I explained, "that a player who is learning the +game fails to hit his ball straight, and then he often loses it in the +rough at the side of the fairway." + +"Absurd!" said Vincent Jopp. "If I set out to drive my ball straight, I +shall drive it straight. Good morning, Mr. McHoots. You will excuse me +now. I am busy cornering Woven Textiles." + + * * * * * + +Golf is in its essence a simple game. You laugh in a sharp, bitter, +barking manner when I say this, but nevertheless it is true. Where the +average man goes wrong is in making the game difficult for himself. +Observe the non-player, the man who walks round with you for the sake +of the fresh air. He will hole out with a single care-free flick of his +umbrella the twenty-foot putt over which you would ponder and hesitate +for a full minute before sending it right off the line. Put a driver in +his hands and he pastes the ball into the next county without a +thought. It is only when he takes to the game in earnest that he +becomes self-conscious and anxious, and tops his shots even as you and +I. A man who could retain through his golfing career the almost +scornful confidence of the non-player would be unbeatable. Fortunately +such an attitude of mind is beyond the scope of human nature. + +It was not, however, beyond the scope of Vincent Jopp, the superman. +Vincent Jopp, was, I am inclined to think, the only golfer who ever +approached the game in a spirit of Pure Reason. I have read of men who, +never having swum in their lives, studied a text-book on their way down +to the swimming bath, mastered its contents, and dived in and won the +big race. In just such a spirit did Vincent Jopp start to play golf. He +committed McHoots's hints to memory, and then went out on the links and +put them into practice. He came to the tee with a clear picture in his +mind of what he had to do, and he did it. He was not intimidated, like +the average novice, by the thought that if he pulled in his hands he +would slice, or if he gripped too tightly with the right he would pull. +Pulling in the hands was an error, so he did not pull in his hands. +Gripping too tightly was a defect, so he did not grip too tightly. With +that weird concentration which had served him so well in business he +did precisely what he had set out to do--no less and no more. Golf with +Vincent Jopp was an exact science. + +The annals of the game are studded with the names of those who have +made rapid progress in their first season. Colonel Quill, we read in +our Vardon, took up golf at the age of fifty-six, and by devising an +ingenious machine consisting of a fishing-line and a sawn-down bedpost +was enabled to keep his head so still that he became a scratch player +before the end of the year. But no one, I imagine, except Vincent Jopp, +has ever achieved scratch on his first morning on the links. + +The main difference, we are told, between the amateur and the +professional golfer is the fact that the latter is always aiming at the +pin, while the former has in his mind a vague picture of getting +somewhere reasonably near it. Vincent Jopp invariably went for the pin. +He tried to hole out from anywhere inside two hundred and twenty yards. +The only occasion on which I ever heard him express any chagrin or +disappointment was during the afternoon round on his first day out, +when from the tee on the two hundred and eighty yard seventh he laid +his ball within six inches of the hole. + +"A marvellous shot!" I cried, genuinely stirred. + +"Too much to the right," said Vincent Jopp, frowning. + +He went on from triumph to triumph. He won the monthly medal in May, +June, July, August, and September. Towards the end of May he was heard +to complain that Wissahicky Glen was not a sporting course. The Greens +Committee sat up night after night trying to adjust his handicap so as +to give other members an outside chance against him. The golf experts +of the daily papers wrote columns about his play. And it was pretty +generally considered throughout the country that it would be a pure +formality for anyone else to enter against him in the Amateur +Championship--an opinion which was borne out when he got through into +the final without losing a hole. A safe man to have betted on, you +would have said. But mark the sequel. + + * * * * * + +The American Amateur Championship was held that year in Detroit. I had +accompanied my employer there; for, though engaged on this +nerve-wearing contest, he refused to allow his business to be +interfered with. As he had indicated in his schedule, he was busy at +the time cornering wheat; and it was my task to combine the duties of +caddy and secretary. Each day I accompanied him round the links with my +note-book and his bag of clubs, and the progress of his various matches +was somewhat complicated by the arrival of a stream of telegraph-boys +bearing important messages. He would read these between the strokes and +dictate replies to me, never, however, taking more than the five +minutes allowed by the rules for an interval between strokes. I am +inclined to think that it was this that put the finishing touch on his +opponents' discomfiture. It is not soothing for a nervous man to have +the game hung up on the green while his adversary dictates to his caddy +a letter beginning "Yours of the 11th inst. received and contents +noted. In reply would state----" This sort of thing puts a man off his +game. + +I was resting in the lobby of our hotel after a strenuous day's work, +when I found that I was being paged. I answered the summons, and was +informed that a lady wished to see me. Her card bore the name "Miss +Amelia Merridew." Amelia! The name seemed familiar. Then I remembered. +Amelia was the name of the girl Vincent Jopp intended to marry, the +fourth of the long line of Mrs. Jopps. I hurried to present myself, and +found a tall, slim girl, who was plainly labouring under a considerable +agitation. + +"Miss Merridew?" I said. + +"Yes," she murmured. "My name will be strange to you." + +"Am I right," I queried, "in supposing that you are the lady to whom +Mr. Jopp----" + +"I am! I am!" she replied. "And, oh, what shall I do?" + +"Kindly give me particulars," I said, taking out my pad from force of +habit. + +She hesitated a moment, as if afraid to speak. + +"You are caddying for Mr. Jopp in the Final tomorrow?" she said at +last. + +"I am." + +"Then could you--would you mind--would it be giving you too much +trouble if I asked you to shout 'Boo!' at him when he is making his +stroke, if he looks like winning?" + +I was perplexed. + +"I don't understand." + +"I see that I must tell you all. I am sure you will treat what I say as +absolutely confidential." + +"Certainly." + +"I am provisionally engaged to Mr. Jopp." + +"Provisionally?" + +She gulped. + +"Let me tell you my story. Mr. Jopp asked me to marry him, and I would +rather do anything on earth than marry him. But how could I say 'No!' +with those awful eyes of his boring me through? I knew that if I said +'No', he would argue me out of it in two minutes. I had an idea. I +gathered that he had never played golf, so I told him that I would +marry him if he won the Amateur Championship this year. And now I find +that he has been a golfer all along, and, what is more, a plus man! It +isn't fair!" + +"He was not a golfer when you made that condition," I said. "He took up +the game on the following day." + +"Impossible! How could he have become as good as he is in this short +time?" + +"Because he is Vincent Jopp! In his lexicon there is no such word as +impossible." + +She shuddered. + +"What a man! But I can't marry him," she cried. "I want to marry +somebody else. Oh, won't you help me? Do shout 'Boo!' at him when he is +starting his down-swing!" + +I shook my head. + +"It would take more than a single 'boo' to put Vincent Jopp off his +stroke." + +"But won't you try it?" + +"I cannot. My duty is to my employer." + +"Oh, do!" + +"No, no. Duty is duty, and paramount with me. Besides, I have a bet on +him to win." + +The stricken girl uttered a faint moan, and tottered away. + + * * * * * + +I was in our suite shortly after dinner that night, going over some of +the notes I had made that day, when the telephone rang. Jopp was out at +the time, taking a short stroll with his after-dinner cigar. I unhooked +the receiver, and a female voice spoke. + +"Is that Mr. Jopp?" + +"Mr. Jopp's secretary speaking. Mr. Jopp is out." + +"Oh, it's nothing important. Will you say that Mrs. Luella Mainprice +Jopp called up to wish him luck? I shall be on the course tomorrow to +see him win the final." + +I returned to my notes. Soon afterwards the telephone rang again. + +"Vincent, dear?" + +"Mr. Jopp's secretary speaking." + +"Oh, will you say that Mrs. Jane Jukes Jopp called up to wish him luck? +I shall be there tomorrow to see him play." + +I resumed my work. I had hardly started when the telephone rang for the +third time. + +"Mr. Jopp?" + +"Mr. Jopp's secretary speaking." + +"This is Mrs. Agnes Parsons Jopp. I just called up to wish him luck. I +shall be looking on tomorrow." + +I shifted my work nearer to the telephone-table so as to be ready for +the next call. I had heard that Vincent Jopp had only been married +three times, but you never knew. + +Presently Jopp came in. + +"Anybody called up?" he asked. + +"Nobody on business. An assortment of your wives were on the wire +wishing you luck. They asked me to say that they will be on the course +tomorrow." + +For a moment it seemed to me that the man's iron repose was shaken. + +"Luella?" he asked. + +"She was the first." + +"Jane?" + +"And Jane." + +"And Agnes?" + +"Agnes," I said, "is right." + +"H'm!" said Vincent Jopp. And for the first time since I had known him +I thought that he was ill at ease. + + * * * * * + +The day of the final dawned bright and clear. At least, I was not awake +at the time to see, but I suppose it did; for at nine o'clock, when I +came down to breakfast, the sun was shining brightly. The first +eighteen holes were to be played before lunch, starting at eleven. +Until twenty minutes before the hour Vincent Jopp kept me busy taking +dictation, partly on matters connected with his wheat deal and partly +on a signed article dealing with the Final, entitled "How I Won." At +eleven sharp we were out on the first tee. + +Jopp's opponent was a nice-looking young man, but obviously nervous. He +giggled in a distraught sort of way as he shook hands with my employer. + +"Well, may the best man win," he said. + +"I have arranged to do so," replied Jopp, curtly, and started to +address his ball. + +There was a large crowd at the tee, and, as Jopp started his +down-swing, from somewhere on the outskirts of this crowd there came +suddenly a musical "Boo!" It rang out in the clear morning air like a +bugle. + +I had been right in my estimate of Vincent Jopp. His forceful stroke +never wavered. The head of his club struck the ball, despatching it a +good two hundred yards down the middle of the fairway. As we left the +tee I saw Amelia Merridew being led away with bowed head by two members +of the Greens Committee. Poor girl! My heart bled for her. And yet, +after all, Fate had been kind in removing her from the scene, even in +custody, for she could hardly have borne to watch the proceedings. +Vincent Jopp made rings round his antagonist. Hole after hole he won in +his remorseless, machine-like way, until when lunch-time came at the +end of the eighteenth he was ten up. All the other holes had been +halved. + +It was after lunch, as we made our way to the first tee, that the +advance-guard of the Mrs. Jopps appeared in the person of Luella +Mainprice Jopp, a kittenish little woman with blond hair and a +Pekingese dog. I remembered reading in the papers that she had divorced +my employer for persistent and aggravated mental cruelty, calling +witnesses to bear out her statement that he had said he did not like +her in pink, and that on two separate occasions had insisted on her dog +eating the leg of a chicken instead of the breast; but Time, the great +healer, seemed to have removed all bitterness, and she greeted him +affectionately. + +"Wassums going to win great big championship against nasty rough strong +man?" she said. + +"Such," said Vincent Jopp, "is my intention. It was kind of you, +Luella, to trouble to come and watch me. I wonder if you know Mrs. +Agnes Parsons Jopp?" he said, courteously, indicating a kind-looking, +motherly woman who had just come up. "How are you, Agnes?" + +"If you had asked me that question this morning, Vincent," replied Mrs. +Agnes Parsons Jopp, "I should have been obliged to say that I felt far +from well. I had an odd throbbing feeling in the left elbow, and I am +sure my temperature was above the normal. But this afternoon I am a +little better. How are you, Vincent?" + +Although she had, as I recalled from the reports of the case, been +compelled some years earlier to request the Court to sever her marital +relations with Vincent Jopp on the ground of calculated and inhuman +brutality, in that he had callously refused, in spite of her pleadings, +to take old Dr. Bennett's Tonic Swamp-Juice three times a day, her +voice, as she spoke, was kind and even anxious. Badly as this man had +treated her--and I remember hearing that several of the jury had been +unable to restrain their tears when she was in the witness-box giving +her evidence--there still seemed to linger some remnants of the old +affection. + +"I am quite well, thank you, Agnes," said Vincent Jopp. + +"Are you wearing your liver-pad?" + +A frown flitted across my employer's strong face. + +"I am not wearing my liver-pad," he replied, brusquely. + +"Oh, Vincent, how rash of you!" + +He was about to speak, when a sudden exclamation from his rear checked +him. A genial-looking woman in a sports coat was standing there, eyeing +him with a sort of humorous horror. + +"Well, Jane," he said. + +I gathered that this was Mrs. Jane Jukes Jopp, the wife who had +divorced him for systematic and ingrowing fiendishness on the ground +that he had repeatedly outraged her feelings by wearing a white +waistcoat with a dinner-jacket. She continued to look at him dumbly, +and then uttered a sort of strangled, hysterical laugh. + +"Those legs!" she cried. "Those legs!" + +Vincent Jopp flushed darkly. Even the strongest and most silent of us +have our weaknesses, and my employer's was the rooted idea that he +looked well in knickerbockers. It was not my place to try to dissuade +him, but there was no doubt that they did not suit him. Nature, in +bestowing upon him a massive head and a jutting chin, had forgotten to +finish him off at the other end. Vincent Jopp's legs were skinny. + +"You poor dear man!" went on Mrs. Jane Jukes Jopp. "What practical +joker ever lured you into appearing in public in knickerbockers?" + +"I don't object to the knickerbockers," said Mrs. Agnes Parsons Jopp, +"but when he foolishly comes out in quite a strong east wind without +his liver-pad----" + +"Little Tinky-Ting don't need no liver-pad, he don't," said Mrs. Luella +Mainprice Jopp, addressing the animal in her arms, "because he was his +muzzer's pet, he was." + +I was standing quite near to Vincent Jopp, and at this moment I saw a +bead of perspiration spring out on his forehead, and into his steely +eyes there came a positively hunted look. I could understand and +sympathize. Napoleon himself would have wilted if he had found himself +in the midst of a trio of females, one talking baby-talk, another +fussing about his health, and the third making derogatory observations +on his lower limbs. Vincent Jopp was becoming unstrung. + +"May as well be starting, shall we?" + +It was Jopp's opponent who spoke. There was a strange, set look on his +face--the look of a man whose back is against the wall. Ten down on the +morning's round, he had drawn on his reserves of courage and was +determined to meet the inevitable bravely. + +Vincent Jopp nodded absently, then turned to me. + +"Keep those women away from me," he whispered tensely. "They'll put me +off my stroke!" + +"Put _you_ off your stroke!" I exclaimed, incredulously. + +"Yes, me! How the deuce can I concentrate, with people babbling about +liver-pads, and--and knickerbockers all round me? Keep them away!" + +He started to address his ball, and there was a weak uncertainty in the +way he did it that prepared me for what was to come. His club rose, +wavered, fell; and the ball, badly topped, trickled two feet and sank +into a cuppy lie. + +"Is that good or bad?" inquired Mrs. Luella Mainprice Jopp. + +A sort of desperate hope gleamed in the eye of the other competitor in +the final. He swung with renewed vigour. His ball sang through the air, +and lay within chip-shot distance of the green. + +"At the very least," said Mrs. Agnes Parsons Jopp, "I hope, Vincent, +that you are wearing flannel next your skin." + +I heard Jopp give a stifled groan as he took his spoon from the bag. He +made a gallant effort to retrieve the lost ground, but the ball struck +a stone and bounded away into the long grass to the side of the green. +His opponent won the hole. + +We moved to the second tee. + +"Now, that young man," said Mrs. Jane Jukes Jopp, indicating her late +husband's blushing antagonist, "is quite right to wear knickerbockers. +He can carry them off. But a glance in the mirror must have shown you +that you----" + +"I'm sure you're feverish, Vincent," said Mrs. Agnes Parsons Jopp, +solicitously. "You are quite flushed. There is a wild gleam in your +eyes." + +"Muzzer's pet got little buttons of eyes, that don't never have no wild +gleam in zem because he's muzzer's own darling, he was!" said Mrs. +Luella Mainprice Jopp. + +A hollow groan escaped Vincent Jopp's ashen lips. + +I need not recount the play hole by hole, I think. There are some +subjects that are too painful. It was pitiful to watch Vincent Jopp in +his downfall. By the end of the first nine his lead had been reduced to +one, and his antagonist, rendered a new man by success, was playing +magnificent golf. On the next hole he drew level. Then with a +superhuman effort Jopp contrived to halve the eleventh, twelfth, and +thirteenth. It seemed as though his iron will might still assert +itself, but on the fourteenth the end came. + +He had driven a superb ball, outdistancing his opponent by a full fifty +yards. The latter played a good second to within a few feet of the +green. And then, as Vincent Jopp was shaping for his stroke, Luella +Mainprice gave tongue. + +"Vincent!" + +"Well?" + +"Vincent, that other man--bad man--not playing fair. When your back was +turned just now, he gave his ball a great bang. _I_ was watching +him." + +"At any rate," said Mrs. Agnes Parsons Jopp, "I do hope, when the game +is over, Vincent, that you will remember to cool slowly." + +"Flesho!" cried Mrs. Jane Jukes Jopp triumphantly. "I've been trying to +remember the name all the afternoon. I saw about it in one of the +papers. The advertisements speak most highly of it. You take it before +breakfast and again before retiring, and they guarantee it to produce +firm, healthy flesh on the most sparsely-covered limbs in next to no +time. Now, _will_ you remember to get a bottle tonight? It comes +in two sizes, the five-shilling (or large size) and the smaller at +half-a-crown. G. K. Chesterton writes that he used it regularly for +years." + +Vincent Jopp uttered a quavering moan, and his hand, as he took the +mashie from his bag, was trembling like an aspen. + +Ten minutes later, he was on his way back to the club-house, a beaten +man. + + * * * * * + +And so (concluded the Oldest Member) you see that in golf there is no +such thing as a soft snap. You can never be certain of the finest +player. Anything may happen to the greatest expert at any stage of the +game. In a recent competition George Duncan took eleven shots over a +hole which eighteen-handicap men generally do in five. No! Back horses +or go down to Throgmorton Street and try to take it away from the +Rothschilds, and I will applaud you as a shrewd and cautious financier. +But to bet at golf is pure gambling. + + + + +9 + +_The Rough Stuff_ + + +Into the basking warmth of the day there had crept, with the approach +of evening, that heartening crispness which heralds the advent of +autumn. Already, in the valley by the ninth tee, some of the trees had +begun to try on strange colours, in tentative experiment against the +coming of nature's annual fancy dress ball, when the soberest tree +casts off its workaday suit of green and plunges into a riot of reds +and yellows. On the terrace in front of the club-house an occasional +withered leaf fluttered down on the table where the Oldest Member sat, +sipping a thoughtful seltzer and lemon and listening with courteous +gravity to a young man in a sweater and golf breeches who occupied the +neighbouring chair. + +"She is a dear girl," said the young man a little moodily, "a dear girl +in every respect. But somehow--I don't know--when I see her playing +golf I can't help thinking that woman's place is in the home." + +The Oldest Member inclined his frosted head. + +"You think," he said, "that lovely woman loses in queenly dignity when +she fails to slam the ball squarely on the meat?" + +"I don't mind her missing the pill," said the young man. "But I think +her attitude toward the game is too light-hearted." + +"Perhaps it cloaks a deeper feeling. One of the noblest women I ever +knew used to laugh merrily when she foozled a short putt. It was only +later, when I learned that in the privacy of her home she would weep +bitterly and bite holes in the sofa cushions, that I realized that she +did but wear the mask. Continue to encourage your _fiancee_ to +play the game, my boy. Much happiness will reward you. I could tell you +a story----" + +A young woman of singular beauty and rather statuesque appearance came +out of the club-house carrying a baby swaddled in flannel. As she drew +near the table she said to the baby: + +"Chicketty wicketty wicketty wipsey pop!" + +In other respects her intelligence appeared to be above the ordinary. + +"Isn't he a darling!" she said, addressing the Oldest Member. + +The Sage cast a meditative eye upon the infant. Except to the eye of +love, it looked like a skinned poached egg. + +"Unquestionably so," he replied. + +"Don't you think he looks more like his father every day?" + +For a brief instant the Oldest Member seemed to hesitate. + +"Assuredly!" he said. "Is your husband out on the links today?" + +"Not today. He had to see Wilberforce off on the train to Scotland." + +"Your brother is going to Scotland?" + +"Yes. Ramsden has such a high opinion of the schools up there. I did +say that Scotland was a long way off, and he said yes, that had +occurred to him, but that we must make sacrifices for Willie's good. He +was very brave and cheerful about it. Well, I mustn't stay. There's +quite a nip in the air, and Rammikins will get a nasty cold in his +precious little button of a nose if I don't walk him about. Say +'Bye-bye' to the gentleman, Rammy!" + +The Oldest Member watched her go thoughtfully. + +"There is a nip in the air," he said, "and, unlike our late +acquaintance in the flannel, I am not in my first youth. Come with me, +I want to show you something." + +He led the way into the club-house, and paused before the wall of the +smoking-room. This was decorated from top to bottom with bold +caricatures of members of the club. + +"These," he said, "are the work of a young newspaper artist who belongs +here. A clever fellow. He has caught the expressions of these men +wonderfully. His only failure, indeed, is that picture of myself." He +regarded it with distaste, and a touch of asperity crept into his +manner. "I don't know why the committee lets it stay there," he said, +irritably. "It isn't a bit like." He recovered himself. "But all the +others are excellent, excellent, though I believe many of the subjects +are under the erroneous impression that they bear no resemblance to the +originals. Here is the picture I wished to show you. That is Ramsden +Waters, the husband of the lady who has just left us." + +The portrait which he indicated was that of a man in the early +thirties. Pale saffron hair surmounted a receding forehead. Pale blue +eyes looked out over a mouth which wore a pale, weak smile, from the +centre of which protruded two teeth of a rabbit-like character. + +"Golly! What a map!" exclaimed the young man at his side. + +"Precisely!" said the Oldest Member. "You now understand my momentary +hesitation in agreeing with Mrs. Waters that the baby was like its +father. I was torn by conflicting emotions. On the one hand, politeness +demanded that I confirm any statement made by a lady. Common humanity, +on the other hand, made it repugnant to me to knock an innocent child. +Yes, that is Ramsden Waters. Sit down and take the weight off your +feet, and I will tell you about him. The story illustrates a favourite +theory of mine, that it is an excellent thing that women should be +encouraged to take up golf. There are, I admit, certain drawbacks +attendant on their presence on the links. I shall not readily forget +the occasion on which a low, raking drive of mine at the eleventh +struck the ladies' tee box squarely and came back and stunned my +caddie, causing me to lose stroke and distance. Nevertheless, I hold +that the advantages outnumber the drawbacks. Golf humanizes women, +humbles their haughty natures, tends, in short, to knock out of their +systems a certain modicum of that superciliousness, that swank, which +makes wooing a tough proposition for the diffident male. You may have +found this yourself?" + +"Well, as a matter of fact," admitted the young man, "now I come to +think of it I have noticed that Genevieve has shown me a bit more +respect since she took up the game. When I drive 230 yards after she +had taken six sloshes to cover fifty, I sometimes think that a new +light comes into her eyes." + +"Exactly," said the Sage. + + * * * * * + +From earliest youth (said the Oldest Member) Ramsden Waters had always +been of a shrinking nature. He seemed permanently scared. Possibly his +nurse had frightened him with tales of horror in his babyhood. If so, +she must have been the Edgar Allan Poe of her sex, for, by the time he +reached men's estate, Ramsden Waters had about as much ferocity and +self-assertion as a blanc mange. Even with other men he was noticeably +timid, and with women he comported himself in a manner that roused +their immediate scorn and antagonism. He was one of those men who fall +over their feet and start apologizing for themselves the moment they +see a woman. His idea of conversing with a girl was to perspire and tie +himself into knots, making the while a strange gurgling sound like the +language of some primitive tribe. If ever a remark of any coherence +emerged from his tangled vocal cords it dealt with the weather, and he +immediately apologized and qualified it. To such a man women are +merciless, and it speedily became an article of faith with the feminine +population of this locality that Ramsden Waters was an unfortunate +incident and did not belong. Finally, after struggling for a time to +keep up a connection in social circles, he gave it up and became a sort +of hermit. + +I think that caricature I just showed you weighed rather heavily on the +poor fellow. Just as he was nerving himself to make another attempt to +enter society, he would catch sight of it and say to himself, "What +hope is there for a man with a face like that?" These caricaturists are +too ready to wound people simply in order to raise a laugh. Personally +I am broad-minded enough to smile at that portrait of myself. It has +given me great enjoyment, though why the committee permits it to--But +then, of course, it isn't a bit like, whereas that of Ramsden Waters +not only gave the man's exact appearance, very little exaggerated, but +laid bare his very soul. That portrait is the portrait of a chump, and +such Ramsden Waters undeniably was. + +By the end of the first year in the neighbourhood, Ramsden, as I say, +had become practically a hermit. He lived all by himself in a house +near the fifteenth green, seeing nobody, going nowhere. His only solace +was golf. His late father had given him an excellent education, and, +even as early as his seventeenth year, I believe, he was going round +difficult courses in par. Yet even this admirable gift, which might +have done him social service, was rendered negligible by the fact that +he was too shy and shrinking to play often with other men. As a rule, +he confined himself to golfing by himself in the mornings and late +evenings when the links were more or less deserted. Yes, in his +twenty-ninth year, Ramsden Waters had sunk to the depth of becoming a +secret golfer. + +One lovely morning in summer, a scented morning of green and blue and +gold, when the birds sang in the trees and the air had that limpid +clearness which makes the first hole look about 100 yards long instead +of 345, Ramsden Waters, alone as ever, stood on the first tee +addressing his ball. For a space he waggled masterfully, then, drawing +his club back with a crisp swish, brought it down. And, as he did so, a +voice behind him cried: + +"Bing!" + +Ramsden's driver wabbled at the last moment. The ball flopped weakly +among the trees on the right of the course. Ramsden turned to perceive, +standing close beside him, a small fat boy in a sailor suit. There was +a pause. + +"Rotten!" said the boy austerely. + +Ramsden gulped. And then suddenly he saw that the boy was not alone. +About a medium approach-putt distance, moving gracefully and languidly +towards him, was a girl of such pronounced beauty that Ramsden Waters's +heart looped the loop twice in rapid succession. It was the first time +that he had seen Eunice Bray, and, like most men who saw her for the +first time, he experienced the sensations of one in an express lift at +the tenth floor going down who has left the majority of his internal +organs up on the twenty-second. He felt a dazed emptiness. The world +swam before his eyes. + +You yourself saw Eunice just now: and, though you are in a sense +immune, being engaged to a charming girl of your own, I noticed that +you unconsciously braced yourself up and tried to look twice as +handsome as nature ever intended you to. You smirked and, if you had a +moustache, you would have twiddled it. You can imagine, then, the +effect which this vision of loveliness had on lonely, diffident Ramsden +Waters. It got right in amongst him. + +"I'm afraid my little brother spoiled your stroke," said Eunice. She +did not speak at all apologetically, but rather as a goddess might have +spoken to a swineherd. + +Ramsden yammered noiselessly. As always in the presence of the opposite +sex, and more than ever now, his vocal cords appeared to have tied +themselves in a knot which would have baffled a sailor and might have +perplexed Houdini. He could not even gargle. + +"He is very fond of watching golf," said the girl. + +She took the boy by the hand, and was about to lead him off, when +Ramsden miraculously recovered speech. + +"Would he like to come round with me?" he croaked. How he had managed +to acquire the nerve to make the suggestion he could never understand. +I suppose that in certain supreme moments a sort of desperate +recklessness descends on nervous men. + +"How very kind of you!" said the girl indifferently. "But I'm afraid----" + +"I want to go!" shrilled the boy. "I want to go!" + +Fond as Eunice Bray was of her little brother, I imagine that the +prospect of having him taken off her hands on a fine summer morning, +when all nature urged her to sit in the shade on the terrace and read a +book, was not unwelcome. + +"It would be very kind of you if you would let him," said Eunice. "He +wasn't able to go to the circus last week, and it was a great +disappointment; this will do instead." + +She turned toward the terrace, and Ramsden, his head buzzing, tottered +into the jungle to find his ball, followed by the boy. + +I have never been able to extract full particulars of that morning's +round from Ramsden. If you speak of it to him, he will wince and change +the subject. Yet he seems to have had the presence of mind to pump +Wilberforce as to the details of his home life, and by the end of the +round he had learned that Eunice and her brother had just come to visit +an aunt who lived in the neighbourhood. Their house was not far from +the links; Eunice was not engaged to be married; and the aunt made a +hobby of collecting dry seaweed, which she pressed and pasted in an +album. One sometimes thinks that aunts live entirely for pleasure. + +At the end of the round Ramsden staggered on to the terrace, tripping +over his feet, and handed Wilberforce back in good condition. Eunice, +who had just reached the chapter where the hero decides to give up all +for love, thanked him perfunctorily without looking up from her book; +and so ended the first spasm of Ramsden Waters's life romance. + + * * * * * + +There are few things more tragic than the desire of the moth for the +star; and it is a curious fact that the spectacle of a star almost +invariably fills the most sensible moth with thoughts above his +station. No doubt, if Ramsden Waters had stuck around and waited long +enough there might have come his way in the fullness of time some nice, +homely girl with a squint and a good disposition who would have been +about his form. In his modest day dreams he had aspired to nothing +higher. But the sight of Eunice Bray seemed to have knocked all the +sense out of the man. He must have known that he stood no chance of +becoming anything to her other than a handy means of getting rid of +little Wilberforce now and again. Why, the very instant that Eunice +appeared in the place, every eligible bachelor for miles around her +tossed his head with a loud, snorting sound, and galloped madly in her +direction. Dashing young devils they were, handsome, well-knit fellows +with the figures of Greek gods and the faces of movie heroes. Any one +of them could have named his own price from the advertisers of collars. +They were the sort of young men you see standing grandly beside the +full-page picture of the seven-seater Magnifico car in the magazines. +And it was against this field that Ramsden Waters, the man with the +unshuffled face, dared to pit his feeble personality. One weeps. + +Something of the magnitude of the task he had undertaken must have come +home to Ramsden at a very early point in the proceedings. At Eunice's +home, at the hour when women receive callers, he was from the start a +mere unconsidered unit in the mob scene. While his rivals clustered +thickly about the girl, he was invariably somewhere on the outskirts +listening limply to the aunt. I imagine that seldom has any young man +had such golden opportunities of learning all about dried seaweed. +Indeed, by the end of the month Ramsden Waters could not have known +more about seaweed if he had been a deep sea fish. And yet he was not +happy. He was in a position, if he had been at a dinner party and +things had got a bit slow, to have held the table spellbound with the +first hand information about dried seaweed, straight from the stable; +yet nevertheless he chafed. His soul writhed and sickened within him. +He lost weight and went right off his approach shots. I confess that my +heart bled for the man. + +His only consolation was that nobody else, not even the fellows who +worked their way right through the jam and got seats in the front row +where they could glare into her eyes and hang on her lips and all that +sort of thing, seemed to be making any better progress. + +And so matters went on till one day Eunice decided to take up golf. Her +motive for doing this was, I believe, simply because Kitty Manders, who +had won a small silver cup at a monthly handicap, receiving thirty-six, +was always dragging the conversation round to this trophy, and if there +was one firm article in Eunice Bray's simple creed it was that she +would be hanged if she let Kitty, who was by way of being a rival on a +small scale, put anything over on her. I do not defend Eunice, but +women are women, and I doubt if any of them really take up golf in that +holy, quest-of-the-grail spirit which animates men. I have known girls +to become golfers as an excuse for wearing pink jumpers, and one at +least who did it because she had read in the beauty hints in the +evening paper that it made you lissome. Girls will be girls. + +Her first lessons Eunice received from the professional, but after that +she saved money by distributing herself among her hordes of admirers, +who were only too willing to give up good matches to devote themselves +to her tuition. By degrees she acquired a fair skill and a confidence +in her game which was not altogether borne out by results. From Ramsden +Waters she did not demand a lesson. For one thing it never occurred to +her that so poor-spirited a man could be of any use at the game, and +for another Ramsden was always busy tooling round with little +Wilberforce. + +Yet it was with Ramsden that she was paired in the first competition +for which she entered, the annual mixed foursomes. And it was on the +same evening that the list of the draw went up on the notice board that +Ramsden proposed. + +The mind of a man in love works in strange ways. To you and to me there +would seem to be no reason why the fact that Eunice's name and his own +had been drawn out of a hat together should so impress Ramsden, but he +looked on it as an act of God. It seemed to him to draw them close +together, to set up a sort of spiritual affinity. In a word, it acted +on the poor fellow like a tonic, and that very night he went around to +her house, and having, after a long and extremely interesting +conversation with her aunt, contrived to get her alone, coughed eleven +times in a strangled sort of way, and suggested that the wedding bells +should ring out. + +Eunice was more startled than angry. + +"Of course, I'm tremendously complimented, Mr.----" She had to pause to +recall the name. "Mr.----" + +"Waters," said Ramsden, humbly. + +"Of course, yes. Mr. Waters. As I say, it's a great compliment----" + +"Not at all!" + +"A great compliment----" + +"No, no!" murmured Ramsden obsequiously. + +"I wish you wouldn't interrupt!" snapped Eunice with irritation. No +girl likes to have to keep going back and trying over her speeches. +"It's a great compliment, but it is quite impossible." + +"Just as you say, of course," agreed Ramsden. + +"What," demanded Eunice, "have you to offer me? I don't mean money. I +mean something more spiritual. What is there in you, Mr. Walter----" + +"Waters." + +"Mr. Waters. What is there in you that would repay a girl for giving up +the priceless boon of freedom?" + +"I know a lot about dried seaweed," suggested Ramsden hopefully. + +Eunice shook her head. + +"No," she said, "it is quite impossible. You have paid me the greatest +compliment a man can pay a woman, Mr. Waterson----" + +"Waters," said Ramsden. "I'll write it down for you." + +"Please don't trouble. I am afraid we shall never meet again----" + +"But we are partners in the mixed foursomes tomorrow." + +"Oh, yes, so we are!" said Eunice. "Well, mind you play up. I want to +win a cup more than anything on earth." + +"Ah!" said Ramsden, "if only I could win what I want to win more than +anything else on earth! You, I mean," he added, to make his meaning +clear. "If I could win you----" His tongue tied itself in a bow knot +round his uvula, and he could say no more. He moved slowly to the door, +paused with his fingers on the handle for one last look over his +shoulder, and walked silently into the cupboard where Eunice's aunt +kept her collection of dried seaweed. + +His second start was favoured with greater luck, and he found himself +out in the hall, and presently in the cool air of the night, with the +stars shining down on him. Had those silent stars ever shone down on a +more broken-hearted man? Had the cool air of the night ever fanned a +more fevered brow? Ah, yes! Or, rather, ah no! + +There was not a very large entry for the mixed foursomes competition. +In my experience there seldom is. Men are as a rule idealists, and wish +to keep their illusions regarding women intact, and it is difficult for +the most broad-minded man to preserve a chivalrous veneration for the +sex after a woman has repeatedly sliced into the rough and left him a +difficult recovery. Women, too--I am not speaking of the occasional +champions, but of the average woman, the one with the handicap of 33, +who plays in high-heeled shoes--are apt to giggle when they foozle out +of a perfect lie, and this makes for misogyny. Only eight couples +assembled on the tenth tee (where our foursomes matches start) on the +morning after Ramsden Waters had proposed to Eunice. Six of these were +negligible, consisting of males of average skill and young women who +played golf because it kept them out in the fresh air. Looking over the +field, Ramsden felt that the only serious rivalry was to be feared from +Marcella Bingley and her colleague, a 16-handicap youth named George +Perkins, with whom they were paired for the opening round. George was a +pretty indifferent performer, but Marcella, a weather-beaten female +with bobbed hair and the wrists of a welterweight pugilist, had once +appeared in the women's open championship and swung a nasty iron. + +Ramsden watched her drive a nice, clean shot down the middle of the +fairway, and spoke earnestly to Eunice. His heart was in this +competition, for, though the first prize in the mixed foursomes does +not perhaps entitle the winners to a place in the hall of fame, Ramsden +had the soul of the true golfer. And the true golfer wants to win +whenever he starts, whether he is playing in a friendly round or in the +open championship. + +"What we've got to do is to play steadily," he said. "Don't try any +fancy shots. Go for safety. Miss Bingley is a tough proposition, but +George Perkins is sure to foozle a few, and if we play safe we've got +'em cold. The others don't count." + +You notice something odd about this speech. Something in it strikes you +as curious. Precisely. It affected Eunice Bray in the same fashion. In +the first place, it contains forty-four words, some of them of two +syllables, others of even greater length. In the second place, it was +spoken crisply, almost commandingly, without any of that hesitation and +stammering which usually characterized Ramsden Waters's utterances. +Eunice was puzzled. She was also faintly resentful. True, there was not +a word in what he had said that was calculated to bring the blush of +shame to the cheek of modesty; nevertheless, she felt vaguely that +Ramsden Waters had exceeded the limits. She had been prepared for a +gurgling Ramsden Waters, a Ramsden Waters who fell over his large feet +and perspired; but here was a Ramsden Waters who addressed her not +merely as an equal, but with more than a touch of superiority. She eyed +him coldly, but he had turned to speak to little Wilberforce, who was +to accompany them on the round. + +"And you, my lad," said Ramsden curtly, "you kindly remember that this +is a competition, and keep your merry flow of conversation as much as +possible to yourself. You've got a bad habit of breaking into small +talk when a man's addressing the ball." + +"If you think that my brother will be in the way----" began Eunice +coldly. + +"Oh, I don't mind him coming round," said Ramsden, "if he keeps quiet." + +Eunice gasped. She had not played enough golf to understand how that +noblest of games changes a man's whole nature when on the links. She +was thinking of something crushing to say to him, when he advanced to +the tee to drive off. + +He drove a perfect ball, hard and low with a lot of roll. Even Eunice +was impressed. + +"Good shot, partner!" she said. + +Ramsden was apparently unaware that she had spoken. He was gazing down +the fairway with his club over his left shoulder in an attitude almost +identical with that of Sandy McBean in the plate labelled "The +Drive--Correct Finish", to face page twenty-four of his monumental +work, "How to Become a Scratch Player Your First Season by Studying +Photographs". Eunice bit her lip. She was piqued. She felt as if she +had patted the head of a pet lamb, and the lamb had turned and bitten +her in the finger. + +"I said, 'Good shot, partner!'" she repeated coldly. + +"Yes," said Ramsden, "but don't talk. It prevents one concentrating." +He turned to Wilberforce. "And don't let me have to tell you that +again!" he said. + +"Wilberforce has been like a mouse!" + +"That is what I complain of," said Ramsden. "Mice make a beastly +scratching sound, and that's what he was doing when I drove that ball." + +"He was only playing with the sand in the tee box." + +"Well, if he does it again, I shall be reluctantly compelled to take +steps." + +They walked in silence to where the ball had stopped. It was nicely +perched up on the grass, and to have plunked it on to the green with an +iron should have been for any reasonable golfer the work of a moment. +Eunice, however, only succeeded in slicing it feebly into the rough. + +Ramsden reached for his niblick and plunged into the bushes. And, +presently, as if it had been shot up by some convulsion of nature, the +ball, accompanied on the early stages of its journey by about a pound +of mixed mud, grass, and pebbles, soared through the air and fell on +the green. But the mischief had been done. Miss Bingley, putting +forcefully, put the opposition ball down for a four and won the hole. + +Eunice now began to play better, and, as Ramsden was on the top of his +game, a ding-dong race ensued for the remainder of the first nine +holes. The Bingley-Perkins combination, owing to some inspired work by +the female of the species, managed to keep their lead up to the tricky +ravine hole, but there George Perkins, as might have been expected of +him, deposited the ball right in among the rocks, and Ramsden and +Eunice drew level. The next four holes were halved and they reached the +club-house with no advantage to either side. Here there was a pause +while Miss Bingley went to the professional's shop to have a tack put +into the leather of her mashie, which had worked loose. George Perkins +and little Wilberforce, who believed in keeping up their strength, +melted silently away in the direction of the refreshment bar, and +Ramsden and Eunice were alone. + + * * * * * + +The pique which Eunice had felt at the beginning of the game had +vanished by now. She was feeling extremely pleased with her performance +on the last few holes, and would have been glad to go into the matter +fully. Also, she was conscious of a feeling not perhaps of respect so +much as condescending tolerance towards Ramsden. He might be a pretty +minus quantity in a drawing-room or at a dance, but in a bunker or out +in the open with a cleek, Eunice felt, you'd be surprised. She was just +about to address him in a spirit of kindliness, when he spoke. + +"Better keep your brassey in the bag on the next nine," he said. "Stick +to the iron. The great thing is to keep 'em straight!" + +Eunice gasped. Indeed, had she been of a less remarkable beauty one +would have said that she snorted. The sky turned black, and all her +amiability was swept away in a flood of fury. The blood left her face +and surged back in a rush of crimson. You are engaged to be married and +I take it that there exists between you and your _fiancee_ the +utmost love and trust and understanding; but would you have the nerve, +could you summon up the cold, callous gall to tell your Genevieve that +she wasn't capable of using her wooden clubs? I think not. Yet this was +what Ramsden Waters had told Eunice, and the delicately nurtured girl +staggered before the coarse insult. Her refined, sensitive nature was +all churned up. + +Ever since she had made her first drive at golf, she had prided herself +on her use of the wood. Her brother and her brassey were the only +things she loved. And here was this man deliberately.... Eunice choked. + +"Mr. Waters!" + +Before they could have further speech George Perkins and little +Wilberforce ambled in a bloated way out of the clubhouse. + +"I've had three ginger ales," observed the boy. "Where do we go from +here?" + +"Our honour," said Ramsden. "Shoot!" + +Eunice took out her driver without a word. Her little figure was tense +with emotion. She swung vigorously, and pulled the ball far out on to +the fairway of the ninth hole. + +"Even off the tee," said Ramsden, "you had better use an iron. You must +keep 'em straight." + +Their eyes met. Hers were glittering with the fury of a woman scorned. +His were cold and hard. And, suddenly, as she looked at his awful, +pale, set golf face, something seemed to snap in Eunice. A strange +sensation of weakness and humility swept over her. So might the cave +woman have felt when, with her back against a cliff and unable to +dodge, she watched her suitor take his club in the interlocking grip, +and, after a preliminary waggle, start his back swing. + +The fact was that, all her life, Eunice had been accustomed to the +homage of men. From the time she had put her hair up every man she had +met had grovelled before her, and she had acquired a mental attitude +toward the other sex which was a blend of indifference and contempt. +For the cringing specimens who curled up and died all over the +hearthrug if she spoke a cold word to them she had nothing but scorn. +She dreamed wistfully of those brusque cavemen of whom she read in the +novels which she took out of the village circulating library. The +female novelist who was at that time her favourite always supplied with +each chunk of wholesome and invigorating fiction one beetle-browed hero +with a grouch and a scowl, who rode wild horses over the countryside +till they foamed at the mouth, and treated women like dirt. That, +Eunice had thought yearningly, as she talked to youths whose spines +turned to gelatine at one glance from her bright eyes, was the sort of +man she wanted to meet and never seemed to come across. + +Of all the men whose acquaintance she had made recently she had +despised Ramsden Waters most. Where others had grovelled he had tied +himself into knots. Where others had gazed at her like sheep he had +goggled at her like a kicked spaniel. She had only permitted him to +hang round because he seemed so fond of little Wilberforce. And here he +was, ordering her about and piercing her with gimlet eyes, for all the +world as if he were Claude Delamere, in the thirty-second chapter of +"The Man of Chilled Steel", the one where Claude drags Lady Matilda +around the smoking-room by her hair because she gave the rose from her +bouquet to the Italian count. + +She was half-cowed, half-resentful. + +"Mr Winklethorpe told me I was very good with the wooden clubs," she +said defiantly. + +"He's a great kidder," said Ramsden. + +He went down the hill to where his ball lay. Eunice proceeded direct +for the green. Much as she told herself that she hated this man, she +never questioned his ability to get there with his next shot. + +George Perkins, who had long since forfeited any confidence which his +partner might have reposed in him, had topped his drive, leaving Miss +Bingley a difficult second out of a sandy ditch. The hole was halved. + +The match went on. Ramsden won the short hole, laying his ball dead +with a perfect iron shot, but at the next, the long dog-leg hole, Miss +Bingley regained the honour. They came to the last all square. + +As the match had started on the tenth tee, the last hole to be +negotiated was, of course, what in the ordinary run of human affairs is +the ninth, possibly the trickiest on the course. As you know, it is +necessary to carry with one's initial wallop that combination of stream +and lake into which so many well meant drives have flopped. This done, +the player proceeds up the face of a steep slope, to find himself +ultimately on a green which looks like the sea in the storm scene of a +melodrama. It heaves and undulates, and is altogether a nasty thing to +have happen to one at the end of a gruelling match. But it is the first +shot, the drive, which is the real test, for the water and the trees +form a mental hazard of unquestionable toughness. + +George Perkins, as he addressed his ball for the vital stroke, +manifestly wabbled. He was scared to the depths of his craven soul. He +tried to pray, but all he could remember was the hymn for those in +peril on the deep, into which category, he feared, his ball would +shortly fall. Breathing a few bars of this, he swung. There was a +musical click, and the ball, singing over the water like a bird, +breasted the hill like a homing aeroplane and fell in the centre of the +fairway within easy distance of the plateau green. + +"Nice work, partner," said Miss Bingley, speaking for the first and +last time in the course of the proceedings. + +George unravelled himself with a modest simper. He felt like a gambler +who has placed his all on a number at roulette and sees the white ball +tumble into the correct compartment. + +Eunice moved to the tee. In the course of the last eight holes the +girl's haughty soul had been rudely harrowed. She had foozled two +drives and three approach shots and had missed a short putt on the last +green but three. She had that consciousness of sin which afflicts the +golfer off his game, that curious self-loathing which humbles the +proudest. Her knees felt weak and all nature seemed to bellow at her +that this was where she was going to blow up with a loud report. + +Even as her driver rose above her shoulder she was acutely aware that +she was making eighteen out of the twenty-three errors which complicate +the drive at golf. She knew that her head had swayed like some +beautiful flower in a stiff breeze. The heel of her left foot was +pointing down the course. Her grip had shifted, and her wrists felt +like sticks of boiled asparagus. As the club began to descend she +perceived that she had underestimated the total of her errors. And when +the ball, badly topped, bounded down the slope and entered the muddy +water like a timid diver on a cold morning she realized that she had a +full hand. There are twenty-three things which it is possible to do +wrong in the drive, and she had done them all. + +Silently Ramsden Waters made a tee and placed thereon a new ball. He +was a golfer who rarely despaired, but he was playing three, and his +opponents' ball would undoubtedly be on the green, possibly even dead, +in two. Nevertheless, perhaps, by a supreme drive, and one or two +miracles later on, the game might be saved. He concentrated his whole +soul on the ball. + +I need scarcely tell you that Ramsden Waters pressed.... + +Swish came the driver. The ball, fanned by the wind, rocked a little on +the tee, then settled down in its original position. Ramsden Waters, +usually the most careful of players, had missed the globe. + +For a moment there was a silence--a silence which Ramsden had to strive +with an effort almost physically painful not to break. Rich oaths +surged to his lips, and blistering maledictions crashed against the +back of his clenched teeth. + +The silence was broken by little Wilberforce. + +One can only gather that there lurks in the supposedly innocuous amber +of ginger ale an elevating something which the temperance reformers +have overlooked. Wilberforce Bray had, if you remember, tucked away no +fewer than three in the spot where they would do most good. One +presumes that the child, with all that stuff surging about inside him, +had become thoroughly above himself. He uttered a merry laugh. + +"Never hit it!" said little Wilberforce. + +He was kneeling beside the tee box as he spoke, and now, as one who has +seen all that there is to be seen and turns, sated, to other +amusements, he moved round and began to play with the sand. The +spectacle of his alluring trouser seat was one which a stronger man +would have found it hard to resist. To Ramsden Waters it had the aspect +of a formal invitation. For one moment his number II golf shoe, as +supplied to all the leading professionals, wavered in mid-air, then +crashed home. + +Eunice screamed. + +"How dare you kick my brother!" + +Ramsden faced her, stern and pale. + +"Madam," he said, "in similar circumstances I would have kicked the +Archangel Gabriel!" + +Then, stooping to his ball, he picked it up. + +"The match is yours," he said to Miss Bingley, who, having paid no +attention at all to the drama which had just concluded, was practising +short chip shots with her mashie-niblick. + +He bowed coldly to Eunice, cast one look of sombre satisfaction at +little Wilberforce, who was painfully extricating himself from a bed of +nettles into which he had rolled, and strode off. He crossed the bridge +over the water and stalked up the hill. + +Eunice watched him go, spellbound. Her momentary spurt of wrath at the +kicking of her brother had died away, and she wished she had thought of +doing it herself. + +How splendid he looked, she felt, as she watched Ramsden striding up to +the club-house--just like Carruthers Mordyke after he had flung +Ermyntrude Vanstone from him in chapter forty-one of "Gray Eyes That +Gleam". Her whole soul went out to him. This was the sort of man she +wanted as a partner in life. How grandly he would teach her to play +golf. It had sickened her when her former instructors, prefacing their +criticism with glutinous praise, had mildly suggested that some people +found it a good thing to keep the head still when driving and that +though her methods were splendid it might be worth trying. They had +spoken of her keeping her eye on the ball as if she were doing the ball +a favour. What she wanted was a great, strong, rough brute of a fellow +who would tell her not to move her damned head; a rugged Viking of a +chap who, if she did not keep her eye on the ball, would black it for +her. And Ramsden Waters was such a one. He might not look like a +Viking, but after all it is the soul that counts and, as this +afternoon's experience had taught her, Ramsden Waters had a soul that +seemed to combine in equal proportions the outstanding characteristics +of Nero, a wildcat, and the second mate of a tramp steamer. + + * * * * * + +That night Ramsden Walters sat in his study, a prey to the gloomiest +emotions. The gold had died out of him by now, and he was reproaching +himself bitterly for having ruined for ever his chance of winning the +only girl he had ever loved. How could she forgive him for his +brutality? How could she overlook treatment which would have caused +comment in the stokehold of a cattle ship? He groaned and tried to +forget his sorrows by forcing himself to read. + +But the choicest thoughts of the greatest writers had no power to grip +him. He tried Vardon "On the Swing", and the words swam before his +eyes. He turned to Taylor "On the Chip Shot", and the master's pure +style seemed laboured and involved. He found solace neither in Braid +"On the Pivot" nor in Duncan "On the Divot". He was just about to give +it up and go to bed though it was only nine o'clock, when the telephone +bell rang. + +"Hello!" + +"Is that you, Mr. Waters? This is Eunice Bray." The receiver shook in +Ramsden's hand. "I've just remembered. Weren't we talking about +something last night? Didn't you ask me to marry you or something? I +know it was something." + +Ramsden gulped three times. + +"I did," he replied hollowly. + +"We didn't settle anything, did we?" + +"Eh?" + +"I say, we sort of left it kind of open." + +"Yuk!" + +"Well, would it bore you awfully," said Eunice's soft voice, "to come +round now and go on talking it over?" + +Ramsden tottered. + +"We shall be quite alone," said Eunice. "Little Wilberforce has gone to +bed with a headache." + +Ramsden paused a moment to disentangle his tongue from the back of his +neck. + +"I'll be right over!" he said huskily. + + + + +10 + +_The Coming of Gowf_ + + +PROLOGUE + +After we had sent in our card and waited for a few hours in the marbled +ante-room, a bell rang and the major-domo, parting the priceless +curtains, ushered us in to where the editor sat writing at his desk. We +advanced on all fours, knocking our head reverently on the Aubusson +carpet. + +"Well?" he said at length, laying down his jewelled pen. + +"We just looked in," we said, humbly, "to ask if it would be all right +if we sent you an historical story." + +"The public does not want historical stories," he said, frowning +coldly. + +"Ah, but the public hasn't seen one of ours!" we replied. + +The editor placed a cigarette in a holder presented to him by a +reigning monarch, and lit it with a match from a golden box, the gift +of the millionaire president of the Amalgamated League of Working +Plumbers. + +"What this magazine requires," he said, "is red-blooded, +one-hundred-per-cent dynamic stuff, palpitating with warm human +interest and containing a strong, poignant love-motive." + +"That," we replied, "is us all over, Mabel." + +"What I need at the moment, however, is a golf story." + +"By a singular coincidence, ours is a golf story." + +"Ha! say you so?" said the editor, a flicker of interest passing over +his finely-chiselled features. "Then you may let me see it." + +He kicked us in the face, and we withdrew. + + +THE STORY + +On the broad terrace outside his palace, overlooking the fair expanse +of the Royal gardens, King Merolchazzar of Oom stood leaning on the low +parapet, his chin in his hand and a frown on his noble face. The day +was fine, and a light breeze bore up to him from the garden below a +fragrant scent of flowers. But, for all the pleasure it seemed to give +him, it might have been bone-fertilizer. + +The fact is, King Merolchazzar was in love, and his suit was not +prospering. Enough to upset any man. + +Royal love affairs in those days were conducted on the correspondence +system. A monarch, hearing good reports of a neighbouring princess, +would despatch messengers with gifts to her Court, beseeching an +interview. The Princess would name a date, and a formal meeting would +take place; after which everything usually buzzed along pretty +smoothly. But in the case of King Merolchazzar's courtship of the +Princess of the Outer Isles there had been a regrettable hitch. She had +acknowledged the gifts, saying that they were just what she had wanted +and how had he guessed, and had added that, as regarded a meeting, she +would let him know later. Since that day no word had come from her, and +a gloomy spirit prevailed in the capital. At the Courtiers' Club, the +meeting-place of the aristocracy of Oom, five to one in _pazazas_ +was freely offered against Merolchazzar's chances, but found no takers; +while in the taverns of the common people, where less conservative odds +were always to be had, you could get a snappy hundred to eight. "For in +good sooth," writes a chronicler of the time on a half-brick and a +couple of paving-stones which have survived to this day, "it did indeed +begin to appear as though our beloved monarch, the son of the sun and +the nephew of the moon, had been handed the bitter fruit of the +citron." + +The quaint old idiom is almost untranslatable, but one sees what he +means. + + * * * * * + +As the King stood sombrely surveying the garden, his attention was +attracted by a small, bearded man with bushy eyebrows and a face like a +walnut, who stood not far away on a gravelled path flanked by rose +bushes. For some minutes he eyed this man in silence, then he called to +the Grand Vizier, who was standing in the little group of courtiers and +officials at the other end of the terrace. The bearded man, apparently +unconscious of the Royal scrutiny, had placed a rounded stone on the +gravel, and was standing beside it making curious passes over it with +his hoe. It was this singular behaviour that had attracted the King's +attention. Superficially it seemed silly, and yet Merolchazzar had a +curious feeling that there was a deep, even a holy, meaning behind the +action. + +"Who," he inquired, "is that?" + +"He is one of your Majesty's gardeners," replied the Vizier. + +"I don't remember seeing him before. Who is he?" + +The Vizier was a kind-hearted man, and he hesitated for a moment. + +"It seems a hard thing to say of anyone, your Majesty," he replied, +"but he is a Scotsman. One of your Majesty's invincible admirals +recently made a raid on the inhospitable coast of that country at a +spot known to the natives as S'nandrews and brought away this man." + +"What does he think he's doing?" asked the King, as the bearded one +slowly raised the hoe above his right shoulder, slightly bending the +left knee as he did so. + +"It is some species of savage religious ceremony, your Majesty. +According to the admiral, the dunes by the seashore where he landed +were covered with a multitude of men behaving just as this man is +doing. They had sticks in their hands and they struck with these at +small round objects. And every now and again----" + +"Fo-o-ore!" called a gruff voice from below. + +"And every now and again," went on the Vizier, "they would utter the +strange melancholy cry which you have just heard. It is a species of +chant." + +The Vizier broke off. The hoe had descended on the stone, and the +stone, rising in a graceful arc, had sailed through the air and fallen +within a foot of where the King stood. + +"Hi!" exclaimed the Vizier. + +The man looked up. + +"You mustn't do that! You nearly hit his serene graciousness the King!" + +"Mphm!" said the bearded man, nonchalantly, and began to wave his hoe +mystically over another stone. + +Into the King's careworn face there had crept a look of interest, +almost of excitement. + +"What god does he hope to propitiate by these rites?" he asked. + +"The deity, I learn from your Majesty's admiral is called Gowf." + +"Gowf? Gowf?" King Merolchazzar ran over in his mind the muster-roll of +the gods of Oom. There were sixty-seven of them, but Gowf was not of +their number. "It is a strange religion," he murmured. "A strange +religion, indeed. But, by Belus, distinctly attractive. I have an idea +that Oom could do with a religion like that. It has a zip to it. A sort +of fascination, if you know what I mean. It looks to me extraordinarily +like what the Court physician ordered. I will talk to this fellow and +learn more of these holy ceremonies." + +And, followed by the Vizier, the King made his way into the garden. The +Vizier was now in a state of some apprehension. He was exercised in his +mind as to the effect which the embracing of a new religion by the King +might have on the formidable Church party. It would be certain to cause +displeasure among the priesthood; and in those days it was a ticklish +business to offend the priesthood, even for a monarch. And, if +Merolchazzar had a fault, it was a tendency to be a little tactless in +his dealings with that powerful body. Only a few mornings back the High +Priest of Hec had taken the Vizier aside to complain about the quality +of the meat which the King had been using lately for his sacrifices. He +might be a child in worldly matters, said the High Priest, but if the +King supposed that he did not know the difference between home-grown +domestic and frozen imported foreign, it was time his Majesty was +disabused of the idea. If, on top of this little unpleasantness, King +Merolchazzar were to become an adherent of this new Gowf, the Vizier +did not know what might not happen. + +The King stood beside the bearded foreigner, watching him closely. The +second stone soared neatly on to the terrace. Merolchazzar uttered an +excited cry. His eyes were glowing, and he breathed quickly. + +"It doesn't look difficult," he muttered. + +"Hoo's!" said the bearded man. + +"I believe I could do it," went on the King, feverishly. "By the eight +green gods of the mountain, I believe I could! By the holy fire that +burns night and day before the altar of Belus, I'm _sure_ I could! +By Hec, I'm going to do it now! Gimme that hoe!" + +"Toots!" said the bearded man. + +It seemed to the King that the fellow spoke derisively, and his blood +boiled angrily. He seized the hoe and raised it above his shoulder, +bracing himself solidly on widely-parted feet. His pose was an exact +reproduction of the one in which the Court sculptor had depicted him +when working on the life-size statue ("Our Athletic King") which stood +in the principal square of the city; but it did not impress the +stranger. He uttered a discordant laugh. + +"Ye puir gonuph!" he cried, "whitkin' o' a staunce is that?" + +The King was hurt. Hitherto the attitude had been generally admired. + +"It's the way I always stand when killing lions," he said. "'In killing +lions,'" he added, quoting from the well-known treatise of Nimrod, the +recognized text-book on the sport, "'the weight at the top of the swing +should be evenly balanced on both feet.'" + +"Ah, weel, ye're no killing lions the noo. Ye're gowfing." + +A sudden humility descended upon the King. He felt, as so many men were +to feel in similar circumstances in ages to come, as though he were a +child looking eagerly for guidance to an all-wise master--a child, +moreover, handicapped by water on the brain, feet three sizes too large +for him, and hands consisting mainly of thumbs. + +"O thou of noble ancestors and agreeable disposition!" he said, humbly. +"Teach me the true way." + +"Use the interlocking grup and keep the staunce a wee bit open and slow +back, and dinna press or sway the heid and keep yer e'e on the ba'." + +"My which on the what?" said the King, bewildered. + +"I fancy, your Majesty," hazarded the Vizier, "that he is respectfully +suggesting that your serene graciousness should deign to keep your eye +on the ball." + +"Oh, ah!" said the King. + +The first golf lesson ever seen in the kingdom of Oom had begun. + + * * * * * + +Up on the terrace, meanwhile, in the little group of courtiers and +officials, a whispered consultation was in progress. Officially, the +King's unfortunate love affair was supposed to be a strict secret. But +you know how it is. These things get about. The Grand Vizier tells the +Lord High Chamberlain; the Lord High Chamberlain whispers it in +confidence to the Supreme Hereditary Custodian of the Royal Pet Dog; +the Supreme Hereditary Custodian hands it on to the Exalted Overseer of +the King's Wardrobe on the understanding that it is to go no farther; +and, before you know where you are, the varlets and scurvy knaves are +gossiping about it in the kitchens, and the Society journalists have +started to carve it out on bricks for the next issue of _Palace +Prattlings_. + +"The long and short of it is," said the Exalted Overseer of the King's +Wardrobe, "we must cheer him up." + +There was a murmur of approval. In those days of easy executions it was +no light matter that a monarch should be a prey to gloom. + +"But how?" queried the Lord High Chamberlain. + +"I know," said the Supreme Hereditary Custodian of the Royal Pet Dog. +"Try him with the minstrels." + +"Here! Why us?" protested the leader of the minstrels. + +"Don't be silly!" said the Lord High Chamberlain. "It's for your good +just as much as ours. He was asking only last night why he never got +any music nowadays. He told me to find out whether you supposed he paid +you simply to eat and sleep, because if so he knew what to do about +it." + +"Oh, in that case!" The leader of the minstrels started nervously. +Collecting his assistants and tip-toeing down the garden, he took up +his stand a few feet in Merolchazzar's rear, just as that much-enduring +monarch, after twenty-five futile attempts, was once more addressing +his stone. + +Lyric writers in those days had not reached the supreme pitch of +excellence which has been produced by modern musical comedy. The art +was in its infancy then, and the best the minstrels could do was +this--and they did it just as Merolchazzar, raising the hoe with +painful care, reached the top of his swing and started down: + + _"Oh, tune the string and let us sing + Our godlike, great, and glorious King! + He's a bear! He's a bear! He's a bear!"_ + +There were sixteen more verses, touching on their ruler's prowess in +the realms of sport and war, but they were not destined to be sung on +that circuit. King Merolchazzar jumped like a stung bullock, lifted his +head, and missed the globe for the twenty-sixth time. He spun round on +the minstrels, who were working pluckily through their song of praise: + + _"Oh, may his triumphs never cease! + He has the strength of ten! + First in war, first in peace, + First in the hearts of his countrymen."_ + +"Get out!" roared the King. + +"Your Majesty?" quavered the leader of the minstrels. + +"Make a noise like an egg and beat it!" (Again one finds the +chronicler's idiom impossible to reproduce in modern speech, and must +be content with a literal translation.) "By the bones of my ancestors, +it's a little hard! By the beard of the sacred goat, it's tough! What +in the name of Belus and Hec do you mean, you yowling misfits, by +starting that sort of stuff when a man's swinging? I was just shaping +to hit it right that time when you butted in, you----" + +The minstrels melted away. The bearded man patted the fermenting +monarch paternally on the shoulder. + +"Ma mannie," he said, "ye may no' be a gowfer yet, but hoots! ye're +learning the language fine!" + +King Merolchazzar's fury died away. He simpered modestly at these words +of commendation, the first his bearded preceptor had uttered. With +exemplary patience he turned to address the stone for the +twenty-seventh time. + +That night it was all over the city that the King had gone crazy over a +new religion, and the orthodox shook their heads. + + * * * * * + +We of the present day, living in the midst of a million marvels of a +complex civilization, have learned to adjust ourselves to conditions +and to take for granted phenomena which in an earlier and less advanced +age would have caused the profoundest excitement and even alarm. We +accept without comment the telephone, the automobile, and the wireless +telegraph, and we are unmoved by the spectacle of our fellow human +beings in the grip of the first stages of golf fever. Far otherwise was +it with the courtiers and officials about the Palace of Oom. The +obsession of the King was the sole topic of conversation. + +Every day now, starting forth at dawn and returning only with the +falling of darkness, Merolchazzar was out on the Linx, as the outdoor +temple of the new god was called. In a luxurious house adjoining this +expanse the bearded Scotsman had been installed, and there he could be +found at almost any hour of the day fashioning out of holy wood the +weird implements indispensable to the new religion. As a recognition of +his services, the King had bestowed upon him a large pension, +innumerable _kaddiz_ or slaves, and the title of Promoter of the +King's Happiness, which for the sake of convenience was generally +shortened to The Pro. + +At present, Oom being a conservative country, the worship of the new +god had not attracted the public in great numbers. In fact, except for +the Grand Vizier, who, always a faithful follower of his sovereign's +fortunes, had taken to Gowf from the start, the courtiers held aloof to +a man. But the Vizier had thrown himself into the new worship with such +vigour and earnestness that it was not long before he won from the King +the title of Supreme Splendiferous Maintainer of the Twenty-Four +Handicap Except on Windy Days when It Goes Up to Thirty--a title which +in ordinary conversation was usually abbreviated to The Dub. + +All these new titles, it should be said, were, so far as the courtiers +were concerned, a fruitful source of discontent. There were black looks +and mutinous whispers. The laws of precedence were being disturbed, and +the courtiers did not like it. It jars a man who for years has had his +social position all cut and dried--a man, to take an instance at +random, who, as Second Deputy Shiner of the Royal Hunting Boots, knows +that his place is just below the Keeper of the Eel-Hounds and just +above the Second Tenor of the Corps of Minstrels--it jars him, we say, +to find suddenly that he has got to go down a step in favour of the +Hereditary Bearer of the King's Baffy. + +But it was from the priesthood that the real, serious opposition was to +be expected. And the priests of the sixty-seven gods of Oom were up in +arms. As the white-bearded High Priest of Hec, who by virtue of his +office was generally regarded as leader of the guild, remarked in a +glowing speech at an extraordinary meeting of the Priests' Equity +Association, he had always set his face against the principle of the +Closed Shop hitherto, but there were moments when every thinking man +had to admit that enough was sufficient, and it was his opinion that +such a moment had now arrived. The cheers which greeted the words +showed how correctly he had voiced popular sentiment. + + * * * * * + +Of all those who had listened to the High Priest's speech, none had +listened more intently than the King's half-brother, Ascobaruch. A +sinister, disappointed man, this Ascobaruch, with mean eyes and a +crafty smile. All his life he had been consumed with ambition, and +until now it had looked as though he must go to his grave with this +ambition unfulfilled. All his life he had wanted to be King of Oom, and +now he began to see daylight. He was sufficiently versed in Court +intrigues to be aware that the priests were the party that really +counted, the source from which all successful revolutions sprang. And +of all the priests the one that mattered most was the venerable High +Priest of Hec. + +It was to this prelate, therefore, that Ascobaruch made his way at the +close of the proceedings. The meeting had dispersed after passing a +unanimous vote of censure on King Merolchazzar, and the High Priest was +refreshing himself in the vestry--for the meeting had taken place in +the Temple of Hec--with a small milk and honey. + +"Some speech!" began Ascobaruch in his unpleasant, crafty way. None +knew better than he the art of appealing to human vanity. + +The High Priest was plainly gratified. + +"Oh, I don't know," he said, modestly. + +"Yessir!" said Ascobaruch. "Considerable oration! What I can never +understand is how you think up all these things to say. I couldn't do +it if you paid me. The other night I had to propose the Visitors at the +Old Alumni dinner of Oom University, and my mind seemed to go all +blank. But you just stand up and the words come fluttering out of you +like bees out of a barn. I simply cannot understand it. The thing gets +past me." + +"Oh, it's just a knack." + +"A divine gift, I should call it." + +"Perhaps you're right," said the High Priest, finishing his milk and +honey. He was wondering why he had never realized before what a capital +fellow Ascobaruch was. + +"Of course," went on Ascobaruch, "you had an excellent subject. I mean +to say, inspiring and all that. Why, by Hec, even I--though, of course, +I couldn't have approached your level--even I could have done something +with a subject like that. I mean, going off and worshipping a new god +no one has ever heard of. I tell you, my blood fairly boiled. Nobody +has a greater respect and esteem for Merolchazzar than I have, but I +mean to say, what! Not right, I mean, going off worshipping gods no one +has ever heard of! I'm a peaceable man, and I've made it a rule never +to mix in politics, but if you happened to say to me as we were sitting +here, just as one reasonable man to another--if you happened to say, +'Ascobaruch, I think it's time that definite steps were taken,' I +should reply frankly, 'My dear old High Priest, I absolutely agree with +you, and I'm with you all the way.' You might even go so far as to +suggest that the only way out of the muddle was to assassinate +Merolchazzar and start with a clean slate." + +The High Priest stroked his beard thoughtfully. + +"I am bound to say I never thought of going quite so far as that." + +"Merely a suggestion, of course," said Ascobaruch. "Take it or leave +it. I shan't be offended. If you know a superior excavation, go to it. +But as a sensible man--and I've always maintained that you are the most +sensible man in the country--you must see that it would be a solution. +Merolchazzar has been a pretty good king, of course. No one denies +that. A fair general, no doubt, and a plus-man at lion-hunting. But, +after all--look at it fairly--is life all battles and lion-hunting? +Isn't there a deeper side? Wouldn't it be better for the country to +have some good orthodox fellow who has worshipped Hec all his life, and +could be relied on to maintain the old beliefs--wouldn't the fact that +a man like that was on the throne be likely to lead to more general +prosperity? There are dozens of men of that kind simply waiting to be +asked. Let us say, purely for purposes of argument, that you approached +_me_. I should reply, 'Unworthy though I know myself to be of such +an honour, I can tell you this. If you put me on the throne, you can +bet your bottom _pazaza_ that there's one thing that won't suffer, +and that is the worship of Hec!' That's the way I feel about it." + +The High Priest pondered. + +"O thou of unshuffled features but amiable disposition!" he said, "thy +discourse soundeth good to me. Could it be done?" + +"Could it!" Ascobaruch uttered a hideous laugh. "Could it! Arouse me in +the night-watches and ask me! Question me on the matter, having stopped +me for that purpose on the public highway! What I would suggest--I'm +not dictating, mind you; merely trying to help you out--what I would +suggest is that you took that long, sharp knife of yours, the one you +use for the sacrifices, and toddled out to the Linx--you're sure to +find the King there; and just when he's raising that sacrilegious stick +of his over his shoulder----" + +"O man of infinite wisdom," cried the High Priest, warmly, "verily hast +them spoken a fullness of the mouth!" + +"Is it a wager?" said Ascobaruch. + +"It is a wager!" said the High Priest. + +"That's that, then," said Ascobaruch. "Now, I don't want to be mixed up +in any unpleasantness, so what I think I'll do while what you might +call the preliminaries are being arranged is to go and take a little +trip abroad somewhere. The Middle Lakes are pleasant at this time of +year. When I come back, it's possible that all the formalities will +have been completed, yes?" + +"Rely on me, by Hec!" said the High Priest grimly, as he fingered his +weapon. + + * * * * * + +The High Priest was as good as his word. Early on the morrow he made +his way to the Linx, and found the King holing-out on the second green. +Merolchazzar was in high good humour. + +"Greetings, O venerable one!" he cried, jovially. "Hadst thou come a +moment sooner, them wouldst have seen me lay my ball dead--aye, dead as +mutton, with the sweetest little half-mashie-niblick chip-shot ever +seen outside the sacred domain of S'nandrew, on whom"--he bared his +head reverently--"be peace! In one under bogey did I do the hole--yea, +and that despite the fact that, slicing my drive, I became ensnared in +yonder undergrowth." + +The High Priest had not the advantage of understanding one word of what +the King was talking about, but he gathered with satisfaction that +Merolchazzar was pleased and wholly without suspicion. He clasped an +unseen hand more firmly about the handle of his knife, and accompanied +the monarch to the next altar. Merolchazzar stooped, and placed a small +round white object on a little mound of sand. In spite of his austere +views, the High Priest, always a keen student of ritual, became +interested. + +"Why does your Majesty do that?" + +"I tee it up that it may fly the fairer. If I did not, then would it be +apt to run along the ground like a beetle instead of soaring like a +bird, and mayhap, for thou seest how rough and tangled is the grass +before us, I should have to use a niblick for my second." + +The High Priest groped for his meaning. + +"It is a ceremony to propitiate the god and bring good luck?" + +"You might call it that." + +The High Priest shook his head. + +"I may be old-fashioned," he said, "but I should have thought that, to +propitiate a god, it would have been better to have sacrificed one of +these _kaddiz_ on his altar." + +"I confess," replied the King, thoughtfully, "that I have often felt +that it would be a relief to one's feelings to sacrifice one or two +_kaddiz_, but The Pro for some reason or other has set his face +against it." He swung at the ball, and sent it forcefully down the +fairway. "By Abe, the son of Mitchell," he cried, shading his eyes, "a +bird of a drive! How truly is it written in the book of the prophet +Vadun, 'The left hand applieth the force, the right doth but guide. +Grip not, therefore, too closely with the right hand!' Yesterday I was +pulling all the time." + +The High Priest frowned. + +"It is written in the sacred book of Hec, your Majesty, 'Thou shalt not +follow after strange gods'." + +"Take thou this stick, O venerable one," said the King, paying no +attention to the remark, "and have a shot thyself. True, thou art well +stricken in years, but many a man has so wrought that he was able to +give his grandchildren a stroke a hole. It is never too late to begin." + +The High Priest shrank back, horrified. The King frowned. + +"It is our Royal wish," he said, coldly. + +The High Priest was forced to comply. Had they been alone, it is +possible that he might have risked all on one swift stroke with his +knife, but by this time a group of _kaddiz_ had drifted up, and +were watching the proceedings with that supercilious detachment so +characteristic of them. He took the stick and arranged his limbs as the +King directed. + +"Now," said Merolchazzar, "slow back and keep your e'e on the ba'!" + + * * * * * + +A month later, Ascobaruch returned from his trip. He had received no +word from the High Priest announcing the success of the revolution, but +there might be many reasons for that. It was with unruffled contentment +that he bade his charioteer drive him to the palace. He was glad to get +back, for after all a holiday is hardly a holiday if you have left your +business affairs unsettled. + +As he drove, the chariot passed a fair open space, on the outskirts of +the city. A sudden chill froze the serenity of Ascobaruch's mood. He +prodded the charioteer sharply in the small of the back. + +"What is that?" he demanded, catching his breath. + +All over the green expanse could be seen men in strange robes, moving +to and fro in couples and bearing in their hands mystic wands. Some +searched restlessly in the bushes, others were walking briskly in the +direction of small red flags. A sickening foreboding of disaster fell +upon Ascobaruch. + +The charioteer seemed surprised at the question. + +"Yon's the muneecipal linx," he replied. + +"The what?" + +"The muneecipal linx." + +"Tell me, fellow, why do you talk that way?" + +"Whitway?" + +"Why, like that. The way you're talking." + +"Hoots, mon!" said the charioteer. "His Majesty King Merolchazzar--may +his handicap decrease!--hae passit a law that a' his soobjects shall do +it. Aiblins, 'tis the language spoken by The Pro, on whom be peace! +Mphm!" + +Ascobaruch sat back limply, his head swimming. The chariot drove on, +till now it took the road adjoining the royal Linx. A wall lined a +portion of this road, and suddenly, from behind this wall, there rent +the air a great shout of laughter. + +"Pull up!" cried Ascobaruch to the charioteer. + +He had recognized that laugh. It was the laugh of Merolchazzar. + +Ascobaruch crept to the wall and cautiously poked his head over it. The +sight he saw drove the blood from his face and left him white and +haggard. + +The King and the Grand Vizier were playing a foursome against the Pro +and the High Priest of Hec, and the Vizier had just laid the High +Priest a dead stymie. + +Ascobaruch tottered to the chariot. + +"Take me back," he muttered, pallidly. "I've forgotten something!" + + * * * * * + +And so golf came to Oom, and with it prosperity unequalled in the whole +history of the land. Everybody was happy. There was no more +unemployment. Crime ceased. The chronicler repeatedly refers to it in +his memoirs as the Golden Age. And yet there remained one man on whom +complete felicity had not descended. It was all right while he was +actually on the Linx, but there were blank, dreary stretches of the +night when King Merolchazzar lay sleepless on his couch and mourned +that he had nobody to love him. + +Of course, his subjects loved him in a way. A new statue had been +erected in the palace square, showing him in the act of getting out of +casual water. The minstrels had composed a whole cycle of up-to-date +songs, commemorating his prowess with the mashie. His handicap was down +to twelve. But these things are not all. A golfer needs a loving wife, +to whom he can describe the day's play through the long evenings. And +this was just where Merolchazzar's life was empty. No word had come +from the Princess of the Outer Isles, and, as he refused to be put off +with just-as-good substitutes, he remained a lonely man. + +But one morning, in the early hours of a summer day, as he lay sleeping +after a disturbed night, Merolchazzar was awakened by the eager hand of +the Lord High Chamberlain, shaking his shoulder. + +"Now what?" said the King. + +"Hoots, your Majesty! Glorious news! The Princess of the Outer Isles +waits without--I mean wi'oot!" + +The King sprang from his couch. + +"A messenger from the Princess at last!" + +"Nay, sire, the Princess herself--that is to say," said the Lord +Chamberlain, who was an old man and had found it hard to accustom +himself to the new tongue at his age, "her ain sel'! And believe me, or +rather, mind ah'm telling ye," went on the honest man, joyfully, for he +had been deeply exercised by his monarch's troubles, "her Highness is +the easiest thing to look at these eyes hae ever seen. And you can say +I said it!" + +"She is beautiful?" + +"Your majesty, she is, in the best and deepest sense of the word, a +pippin!" + +King Merolchazzar was groping wildly for his robes. + +"Tell her to wait!" he cried. "Go and amuse her. Ask her riddles! Tell +her anecdotes! Don't let her go. Say I'll be down in a moment. Where in +the name of Zoroaster is our imperial mesh-knit underwear?" + + * * * * * + +A fair and pleasing sight was the Princess of the Outer Isles as she +stood on the terrace in the clear sunshine of the summer morning, +looking over the King's gardens. With her delicate little nose she +sniffed the fragrance of the flowers. Her blue eyes roamed over the +rose bushes, and the breeze ruffled the golden curls about her temples. +Presently a sound behind her caused her to turn, and she perceived a +godlike man hurrying across the terrace pulling up a sock. And at the +sight of him the Princess's heart sang within her like the birds down +in the garden. + +"Hope I haven't kept you waiting," said Merolchazzar, apologetically. +He, too, was conscious of a strange, wild exhilaration. Truly was this +maiden, as his Chamberlain had said, noticeably easy on the eyes. Her +beauty was as water in the desert, as fire on a frosty night, as +diamonds, rubies, pearls, sapphires, and amethysts. + +"Oh, no!" said the princess, "I've been enjoying myself. How passing +beautiful are thy gardens, O King!" + +"My gardens may be passing beautiful," said Merolchazzar, earnestly, +"but they aren't half so passing beautiful as thy eyes. I have dreamed +of thee by night and by day, and I will tell the world I was nowhere +near it! My sluggish fancy came not within a hundred and fifty-seven +miles of the reality. Now let the sun dim his face and the moon hide +herself abashed. Now let the flowers bend their heads and the gazelle +of the mountains confess itself a cripple. Princess, your slave!" + +And King Merolchazzar, with that easy grace so characteristic of +Royalty, took her hand in his and kissed it. + +As he did so, he gave a start of surprise. + +"By Hec!" he exclaimed. "What hast thou been doing to thyself? Thy hand +is all over little rough places inside. Has some malignant wizard laid +a spell upon thee, or what is it?" + +The Princess blushed. + +"If I make that clear to thee," she said, "I shall also make clear why +it was that I sent thee no message all this long while. My time was so +occupied, verily I did not seem to have a moment. The fact is, these +sorenesses are due to a strange, new religion to which I and my +subjects have but recently become converted. And O that I might make +thee also of the true faith! 'Tis a wondrous tale, my lord. Some two +moons back there was brought to my Court by wandering pirates a captive +of an uncouth race who dwell in the north. And this man has taught +us----" + +King Merolchazzar uttered a loud cry. + +"By Tom, the son of Morris! Can this truly be so? What is thy +handicap?" + +The Princess stared at him, wide-eyed. + +"Truly this is a miracle! Art thou also a worshipper of the great +Gowf?" + +"Am I!" cried the King. "Am I!" He broke off. "Listen!" + +From the minstrels' room high up in the palace there came the sound of +singing. The minstrels were practising a new paean of praise--words by +the Grand Vizier, music by the High Priest of Hec--which they were to +render at the next full moon at the banquet of the worshippers of Gowf. +The words came clear and distinct through the still air: + + _"Oh, praises let us utter + To our most glorious King! + It fairly makes you stutter + To see him start his swing! + Success attend his putter! + And luck be with his drive! + And may he do each hole in two, + Although the bogey's five!"_ + +The voices died away. There was a silence. + +"If I hadn't missed a two-foot putt, I'd have done the long fifteenth +in four yesterday," said the King. + +"I won the Ladies' Open Championship of the Outer Isles last week," +said the Princess. + +They looked into each other's eyes for a long moment. And then, hand in +hand, they walked slowly into the palace. + + +EPILOGUE + +"Well?" we said, anxiously. + +"I like it," said the editor. + +"Good egg!" we murmured. + +The editor pressed a bell, a single ruby set in a fold of the tapestry +upon the wall. The major-domo appeared. + +"Give this man a purse of gold," said the editor, "and throw him out." + + +THE END + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Clicking of Cuthbert, by P. G. Wodehouse + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CLICKING OF CUTHBERT *** + +***** This file should be named 7028.txt or 7028.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/0/2/7028/ + +Produced by Suzanne L. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Clicking of Cuthbert + +Author: P. G. Wodehouse + +Release Date: December, 2004 [EBook #7028] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on February 24, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CLICKING OF CUTHBERT *** + + +This eBooks was produced by Suzanne L. Shell, +Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + +THE CLICKING OF CUTHBERT + + + + +by P. G. Wodehouse + +1922 + + + + + +DEDICATION + +TO THE IMMORTAL MEMORY OF +JOHN HENRIE AND PAT ROGIE +WHO AT EDINBURGH IN THE YEAR 1593 A.D. +WERE IMPRISONED FOR +"PLAYING OF THE GOWFF ON THE LINKS OF LEITH +EVERY SABBATH THE TIME OF THE SERMONSES", +ALSO OF ROBERT ROBERTSON WHO GOT IT IN THE NECK +IN 1604 A.D. FOR THE SAME REASON + + + + +FORE! + + +This book marks an epoch in my literary career. It is written in +blood. It is the outpouring of a soul as deeply seared by Fate's +unkindness as the pretty on the dog-leg hole of the second nine was +ever seared by my iron. It is the work of a very nearly desperate man, +an eighteen-handicap man who has got to look extremely slippy if he +doesn't want to find himself in the twenties again. + +As a writer of light fiction, I have always till now been handicapped +by the fact that my disposition was cheerful, my heart intact, and my +life unsoured. Handicapped, I say, because the public likes to feel +that a writer of farcical stories is piquantly miserable in his private +life, and that, if he turns out anything amusing, he does it simply in +order to obtain relief from the almost insupportable weight of an +existence which he has long since realized to be a wash-out. Well, +today I am just like that. + +Two years ago, I admit, I was a shallow _farceur_. My work lacked +depth. I wrote flippantly simply because I was having a thoroughly good +time. Then I took up golf, and now I can smile through the tears and +laugh, like Figaro, that I may not weep, and generally hold my head up +and feel that I am entitled to respect. + +If you find anything in this volume that amuses you, kindly bear in +mind that it was probably written on my return home after losing three +balls in the gorse or breaking the head off a favourite driver: and, +with a murmured "Brave fellow! Brave fellow!" recall the story of the +clown jesting while his child lay dying at home. That is all. Thank you +for your sympathy. It means more to me than I can say. Do you think +that if I tried the square stance for a bit.... But, after all, this +cannot interest you. Leave me to my misery. + + +POSTSCRIPT.--In the second chapter I allude to Stout Cortez staring at +the Pacific. Shortly after the appearance of this narrative in serial +form in America, I received an anonymous letter containing the words, +"You big stiff, it wasn't Cortez, it was Balboa." This, I believe, is +historically accurate. On the other hand, if Cortez was good enough for +Keats, he is good enough for me. Besides, even if it _was_ Balboa, +the Pacific was open for being stared at about that time, and I see no +reason why Cortez should not have had a look at it as well. + + P. G. WODEHOUSE. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +FORE! + +CHAPTER + +I. THE CLICKING OF CUTHBERT + +II. A WOMAN IS ONLY A WOMAN + +III. A MIXED THREESOME + +IV. SUNDERED HEARTS + +V. THE SALVATION OF GEORGE MACKINTOSH + +VI. ORDEAL BY GOLF + +VII. THE LONG HOLE + +VIII. THE HEEL OF ACHILLES + +IX. THE ROUGH STUFF + +X. THE COMING OF GOWF + + + + +1 + +_The Clicking of Cuthbert_ + + +The young man came into the smoking-room of the clubhouse, and flung +his bag with a clatter on the floor. He sank moodily into an arm-chair +and pressed the bell. + +"Waiter!" + +"Sir?" + +The young man pointed at the bag with every evidence of distaste. + +"You may have these clubs," he said. "Take them away. If you don't want +them yourself, give them to one of the caddies." + +Across the room the Oldest Member gazed at him with a grave sadness +through the smoke of his pipe. His eye was deep and dreamy--the eye of +a man who, as the poet says, has seen Golf steadily and seen it whole. + +"You are giving up golf?" he said. + +He was not altogether unprepared for such an attitude on the young +man's part: for from his eyrie on the terrace above the ninth green he +had observed him start out on the afternoon's round and had seen him +lose a couple of balls in the lake at the second hole after taking +seven strokes at the first. + +"Yes!" cried the young man fiercely. "For ever, dammit! Footling game! +Blanked infernal fat-headed silly ass of a game! Nothing but a waste of +time." + +The Sage winced. + +"Don't say that, my boy." + +"But I do say it. What earthly good is golf? Life is stern and life is +earnest. We live in a practical age. All round us we see foreign +competition making itself unpleasant. And we spend our time playing +golf! What do we get out of it? Is golf any _use_? That's what I'm +asking you. Can you name me a single case where devotion to this +pestilential pastime has done a man any practical good?" + +The Sage smiled gently. + +"I could name a thousand." + +"One will do." + +"I will select," said the Sage, "from the innumerable memories that +rush to my mind, the story of Cuthbert Banks." + +"Never heard of him." + +"Be of good cheer," said the Oldest Member. "You are going to hear of +him now." + + * * * * * + +It was in the picturesque little settlement of Wood Hills (said the +Oldest Member) that the incidents occurred which I am about to relate. +Even if you have never been in Wood Hills, that suburban paradise is +probably familiar to you by name. Situated at a convenient distance +from the city, it combines in a notable manner the advantages of town +life with the pleasant surroundings and healthful air of the country. +Its inhabitants live in commodious houses, standing in their own +grounds, and enjoy so many luxuries--such as gravel soil, main +drainage, electric light, telephone, baths (h. and c.), and company's +own water, that you might be pardoned for imagining life to be so ideal +for them that no possible improvement could be added to their lot. Mrs. +Willoughby Smethurst was under no such delusion. What Wood Hills needed +to make it perfect, she realized, was Culture. Material comforts are +all very well, but, if the _summum bonum_ is to be achieved, the +Soul also demands a look in, and it was Mrs. Smethurst's unfaltering +resolve that never while she had her strength should the Soul be handed +the loser's end. It was her intention to make Wood Hills a centre of +all that was most cultivated and refined, and, golly! how she had +succeeded. Under her presidency the Wood Hills Literary and Debating +Society had tripled its membership. + +But there is always a fly in the ointment, a caterpillar in the salad. +The local golf club, an institution to which Mrs. Smethurst strongly +objected, had also tripled its membership; and the division of the +community into two rival camps, the Golfers and the Cultured, had +become more marked than ever. This division, always acute, had attained +now to the dimensions of a Schism. The rival sects treated one another +with a cold hostility. + +Unfortunate episodes came to widen the breach. Mrs. Smethurst's house +adjoined the links, standing to the right of the fourth tee: and, as +the Literary Society was in the habit of entertaining visiting +lecturers, many a golfer had foozled his drive owing to sudden loud +outbursts of applause coinciding with his down-swing. And not long +before this story opens a sliced ball, whizzing in at the open window, +had come within an ace of incapacitating Raymond Parsloe Devine, the +rising young novelist (who rose at that moment a clear foot and a half) +from any further exercise of his art. Two inches, indeed, to the right +and Raymond must inevitably have handed in his dinner-pail. + +To make matters worse, a ring at the front-door bell followed almost +immediately, and the maid ushered in a young man of pleasing appearance +in a sweater and baggy knickerbockers who apologetically but firmly +insisted on playing his ball where it lay, and, what with the shock of +the lecturer's narrow escape and the spectacle of the intruder standing +on the table and working away with a niblick, the afternoon's session +had to be classed as a complete frost. Mr. Devine's determination, from +which no argument could swerve him, to deliver the rest of his lecture +in the coal-cellar gave the meeting a jolt from which it never +recovered. + +I have dwelt upon this incident, because it was the means of +introducing Cuthbert Banks to Mrs. Smethurst's niece, Adeline. As +Cuthbert, for it was he who had so nearly reduced the muster-roll of +rising novelists by one, hopped down from the table after his stroke, +he was suddenly aware that a beautiful girl was looking at him +intently. As a matter of fact, everyone in the room was looking at him +intently, none more so than Raymond Parsloe Devine, but none of the +others were beautiful girls. Long as the members of Wood Hills Literary +Society were on brain, they were short on looks, and, to Cuthbert's +excited eye, Adeline Smethurst stood out like a jewel in a pile of +coke. + +He had never seen her before, for she had only arrived at her aunt's +house on the previous day, but he was perfectly certain that life, even +when lived in the midst of gravel soil, main drainage, and company's +own water, was going to be a pretty poor affair if he did not see her +again. Yes, Cuthbert was in love: and it is interesting to record, as +showing the effect of the tender emotion on a man's game, that twenty +minutes after he had met Adeline he did the short eleventh in one, and +as near as a toucher got a three on the four-hundred-yard twelfth. + +I will skip lightly over the intermediate stages of Cuthbert's +courtship and come to the moment when--at the annual ball in aid of the +local Cottage Hospital, the only occasion during the year on which the +lion, so to speak, lay down with the lamb, and the Golfers and the +Cultured met on terms of easy comradeship, their differences +temporarily laid aside--he proposed to Adeline and was badly stymied. + +That fair, soulful girl could not see him with a spy-glass. + +"Mr. Banks," she said, "I will speak frankly." + +"Charge right ahead," assented Cuthbert. + +"Deeply sensible as I am of----" + +"I know. Of the honour and the compliment and all that. But, passing +lightly over all that guff, what seems to be the trouble? I love you to +distraction----" + +"Love is not everything." + +"You're wrong," said Cuthbert, earnestly. "You're right off it. +Love----" And he was about to dilate on the theme when she interrupted +him. + +"I am a girl of ambition." + +"And very nice, too," said Cuthbert. + +"I am a girl of ambition," repeated Adeline, "and I realize that the +fulfilment of my ambitions must come through my husband. I am very +ordinary myself----" + +"What!" cried Cuthbert. "You ordinary? Why, you are a pearl among +women, the queen of your sex. You can't have been looking in a glass +lately. You stand alone. Simply alone. You make the rest look like +battered repaints." + +"Well," said Adeline, softening a trifle, "I believe I am fairly +good-looking----" + +"Anybody who was content to call you fairly good-looking would describe +the Taj Mahal as a pretty nifty tomb." + +"But that is not the point. What I mean is, if I marry a nonentity I +shall be a nonentity myself for ever. And I would sooner die than be a +nonentity." + +"And, if I follow your reasoning, you think that that lets _me_ +out?" + +"Well, really, Mr. Banks, _have_ you done anything, or are you +likely ever to do anything worth while?" + +Cuthbert hesitated. + +"It's true," he said, "I didn't finish in the first ten in the Open, +and I was knocked out in the semi-final of the Amateur, but I won the +French Open last year." + +"The--what?" + +"The French Open Championship. Golf, you know." + +"Golf! You waste all your time playing golf. I admire a man who is more +spiritual, more intellectual." + +A pang of jealousy rent Cuthbert's bosom. + +"Like What's-his-name Devine?" he said, sullenly. + +"Mr. Devine," replied Adeline, blushing faintly, "is going to be a +great man. Already he has achieved much. The critics say that he is +more Russian than any other young English writer." + +"And is that good?" + +"Of course it's good." + +"I should have thought the wheeze would be to be more English than any +other young English writer." + +"Nonsense! Who wants an English writer to be English? You've got to be +Russian or Spanish or something to be a real success. The mantle of the +great Russians has descended on Mr. Devine." + +"From what I've heard of Russians, I should hate to have that happen to +_me_." + +"There is no danger of that," said Adeline scornfully. + +"Oh! Well, let me tell you that there is a lot more in me than you +think." + +"That might easily be so." + +"You think I'm not spiritual and intellectual," said Cuthbert, deeply +moved. "Very well. Tomorrow I join the Literary Society." + +Even as he spoke the words his leg was itching to kick himself for +being such a chump, but the sudden expression of pleasure on Adeline's +face soothed him; and he went home that night with the feeling that he +had taken on something rather attractive. It was only in the cold, grey +light of the morning that he realized what he had let himself in for. + +I do not know if you have had any experience of suburban literary +societies, but the one that flourished under the eye of Mrs. Willoughby +Smethurst at Wood Hills was rather more so than the average. With my +feeble powers of narrative, I cannot hope to make clear to you all that +Cuthbert Banks endured in the next few weeks. And, even if I could, I +doubt if I should do so. It is all very well to excite pity and terror, +as Aristotle recommends, but there are limits. In the ancient Greek +tragedies it was an ironclad rule that all the real rough stuff should +take place off-stage, and I shall follow this admirable principle. It +will suffice if I say merely that J. Cuthbert Banks had a thin time. +After attending eleven debates and fourteen lectures on _vers libre_ +Poetry, the Seventeenth-Century Essayists, the Neo-Scandinavian +Movement in Portuguese Literature, and other subjects of a similar +nature, he grew so enfeebled that, on the rare occasions when he had +time for a visit to the links, he had to take a full iron for his mashie +shots. + +It was not simply the oppressive nature of the debates and lectures +that sapped his vitality. What really got right in amongst him was the +torture of seeing Adeline's adoration of Raymond Parsloe Devine. The +man seemed to have made the deepest possible impression upon her +plastic emotions. When he spoke, she leaned forward with parted lips +and looked at him. When he was not speaking--which was seldom--she +leaned back and looked at him. And when he happened to take the next +seat to her, she leaned sideways and looked at him. One glance at Mr. +Devine would have been more than enough for Cuthbert; but Adeline found +him a spectacle that never palled. She could not have gazed at him with +a more rapturous intensity if she had been a small child and he a +saucer of ice-cream. All this Cuthbert had to witness while still +endeavouring to retain the possession of his faculties sufficiently to +enable him to duck and back away if somebody suddenly asked him what he +thought of the sombre realism of Vladimir Brusiloff. It is little +wonder that he tossed in bed, picking at the coverlet, through +sleepless nights, and had to have all his waistcoats taken in three +inches to keep them from sagging. + +This Vladimir Brusiloff to whom I have referred was the famous Russian +novelist, and, owing to the fact of his being in the country on a +lecturing tour at the moment, there had been something of a boom in his +works. The Wood Hills Literary Society had been studying them for +weeks, and never since his first entrance into intellectual circles had +Cuthbert Banks come nearer to throwing in the towel. Vladimir +specialized in grey studies of hopeless misery, where nothing happened +till page three hundred and eighty, when the moujik decided to commit +suicide. It was tough going for a man whose deepest reading hitherto +had been Vardon on the Push-Shot, and there can be no greater proof of +the magic of love than the fact that Cuthbert stuck it without a cry. +But the strain was terrible and I am inclined to think that he must +have cracked, had it not been for the daily reports in the papers of +the internecine strife which was proceeding so briskly in Russia. +Cuthbert was an optimist at heart, and it seemed to him that, at the +rate at which the inhabitants of that interesting country were +murdering one another, the supply of Russian novelists must eventually +give out. + +One morning, as he tottered down the road for the short walk which was +now almost the only exercise to which he was equal, Cuthbert met +Adeline. A spasm of anguish flitted through all his nerve-centres as he +saw that she was accompanied by Raymond Parsloe Devine. + +"Good morning, Mr. Banks," said Adeline. + +"Good morning," said Cuthbert hollowly. + +"Such good news about Vladimir Brusiloff." + +"Dead?" said Cuthbert, with a touch of hope. + +"Dead? Of course not. Why should he be? No, Aunt Emily met his manager +after his lecture at Queen's Hall yesterday, and he has promised that +Mr. Brusiloff shall come to her next Wednesday reception." + +"Oh, ah!" said Cuthbert, dully. + +"I don't know how she managed it. I think she must have told him that +Mr. Devine would be there to meet him." + +"But you said he was coming," argued Cuthbert. + +"I shall be very glad," said Raymond Devine, "of the opportunity of +meeting Brusiloff." + +"I'm sure," said Adeline, "he will be very glad of the opportunity of +meeting you." + +"Possibly," said Mr. Devine. "Possibly. Competent critics have said +that my work closely resembles that of the great Russian Masters." + +"Your psychology is so deep." + +"Yes, yes." + +"And your atmosphere." + +"Quite." + +Cuthbert in a perfect agony of spirit prepared to withdraw from this +love-feast. The sun was shining brightly, but the world was black to +him. Birds sang in the tree-tops, but he did not hear them. He might +have been a moujik for all the pleasure he found in life. + +"You will be there, Mr. Banks?" said Adeline, as he turned away. + +"Oh, all right," said Cuthbert. + +When Cuthbert had entered the drawing-room on the following Wednesday +and had taken his usual place in a distant corner where, while able to +feast his gaze on Adeline, he had a sporting chance of being overlooked +or mistaken for a piece of furniture, he perceived the great Russian +thinker seated in the midst of a circle of admiring females. Raymond +Parsloe Devine had not yet arrived. + +His first glance at the novelist surprised Cuthbert. Doubtless with the +best motives, Vladimir Brusiloff had permitted his face to become +almost entirely concealed behind a dense zareba of hair, but his eyes +were visible through the undergrowth, and it seemed to Cuthbert that +there was an expression in them not unlike that of a cat in a strange +backyard surrounded by small boys. The man looked forlorn and hopeless, +and Cuthbert wondered whether he had had bad news from home. + +This was not the case. The latest news which Vladimir Brusiloff had had +from Russia had been particularly cheering. Three of his principal +creditors had perished in the last massacre of the _bourgeoisie_, +and a man whom he owed for five years for a samovar and a pair of +overshoes had fled the country, and had not been heard of since. It was +not bad news from home that was depressing Vladimir. What was wrong +with him was the fact that this was the eighty-second suburban literary +reception he had been compelled to attend since he had landed in the +country on his lecturing tour, and he was sick to death of it. When his +agent had first suggested the trip, he had signed on the dotted line +without an instant's hesitation. Worked out in roubles, the fees +offered had seemed just about right. But now, as he peered through +the brushwood at the faces round him, and realized that eight out of +ten of those present had manuscripts of some sort concealed on their +persons, and were only waiting for an opportunity to whip them out +and start reading, he wished that he had stayed at his quiet home in +Nijni-Novgorod, where the worst thing that could happen to a fellow +was a brace of bombs coming in through the window and mixing +themselves up with his breakfast egg. + +At this point in his meditations he was aware that his hostess was +looming up before him with a pale young man in horn-rimmed spectacles +at her side. There was in Mrs. Smethurst's demeanour something of the +unction of the master-of-ceremonies at the big fight who introduces the +earnest gentleman who wishes to challenge the winner. + +"Oh, Mr. Brusiloff," said Mrs. Smethurst, "I do so want you to meet Mr. +Raymond Parsloe Devine, whose work I expect you know. He is one of our +younger novelists." + +The distinguished visitor peered in a wary and defensive manner through +the shrubbery, but did not speak. Inwardly he was thinking how exactly +like Mr. Devine was to the eighty-one other younger novelists to whom +he had been introduced at various hamlets throughout the country. +Raymond Parsloe Devine bowed courteously, while Cuthbert, wedged into +his corner, glowered at him. + +"The critics," said Mr. Devine, "have been kind enough to say that my +poor efforts contain a good deal of the Russian spirit. I owe much to +the great Russians. I have been greatly influenced by Sovietski." + +Down in the forest something stirred. It was Vladimir Brusiloff's mouth +opening, as he prepared to speak. He was not a man who prattled +readily, especially in a foreign tongue. He gave the impression that +each word was excavated from his interior by some up-to-date process of +mining. He glared bleakly at Mr. Devine, and allowed three words to +drop out of him. + +"Sovietski no good!" + +He paused for a moment, set the machinery working again, and delivered +five more at the pithead. + +"I spit me of Sovietski!" + +There was a painful sensation. The lot of a popular idol is in many +ways an enviable one, but it has the drawback of uncertainty. Here +today and gone tomorrow. Until this moment Raymond Parsloe Devine's +stock had stood at something considerably over par in Wood Hills +intellectual circles, but now there was a rapid slump. Hitherto he had +been greatly admired for being influenced by Sovietski, but it appeared +now that this was not a good thing to be. It was evidently a rotten +thing to be. The law could not touch you for being influenced by +Sovietski, but there is an ethical as well as a legal code, and this it +was obvious that Raymond Parsloe Devine had transgressed. Women drew +away from him slightly, holding their skirts. Men looked at him +censoriously. Adeline Smethurst started violently, and dropped a +tea-cup. And Cuthbert Banks, doing his popular imitation of a sardine +in his corner, felt for the first time that life held something of +sunshine. + +Raymond Parsloe Devine was plainly shaken, but he made an adroit +attempt to recover his lost prestige. + +"When I say I have been influenced by Sovietski, I mean, of course, +that I was once under his spell. A young writer commits many follies. I +have long since passed through that phase. The false glamour of +Sovietski has ceased to dazzle me. I now belong whole-heartedly to the +school of Nastikoff." + +There was a reaction. People nodded at one another sympathetically. +After all, we cannot expect old heads on young shoulders, and a lapse +at the outset of one's career should not be held against one who has +eventually seen the light. + +"Nastikoff no good," said Vladimir Brusiloff, coldly. He paused, +listening to the machinery. + +"Nastikoff worse than Sovietski." + +He paused again. + +"I spit me of Nastikoff!" he said. + +This time there was no doubt about it. The bottom had dropped out of +the market, and Raymond Parsloe Devine Preferred were down in the +cellar with no takers. It was clear to the entire assembled company +that they had been all wrong about Raymond Parsloe Devine. They had +allowed him to play on their innocence and sell them a pup. They had +taken him at his own valuation, and had been cheated into admiring him +as a man who amounted to something, and all the while he had belonged +to the school of Nastikoff. You never can tell. Mrs. Smethurst's guests +were well-bred, and there was consequently no violent demonstration, +but you could see by their faces what they felt. Those nearest Raymond +Parsloe jostled to get further away. Mrs. Smethurst eyed him stonily +through a raised lorgnette. One or two low hisses were heard, and over +at the other end of the room somebody opened the window in a marked +manner. + +Raymond Parsloe Devine hesitated for a moment, then, realizing his +situation, turned and slunk to the door. There was an audible sigh of +relief as it closed behind him. + +Vladimir Brusiloff proceeded to sum up. + +"No novelists any good except me. Sovietski--yah! Nastikoff--bah! I spit +me of zem all. No novelists anywhere any good except me. P. G. +Wodehouse and Tolstoi not bad. Not good, but not bad. No novelists any +good except me." + +And, having uttered this dictum, he removed a slab of cake from a +near-by plate, steered it through the jungle, and began to champ. + +It is too much to say that there was a dead silence. There could never +be that in any room in which Vladimir Brusiloff was eating cake. But +certainly what you might call the general chit-chat was pretty well +down and out. Nobody liked to be the first to speak. The members of the +Wood Hills Literary Society looked at one another timidly. Cuthbert, +for his part, gazed at Adeline; and Adeline gazed into space. It was +plain that the girl was deeply stirred. Her eyes were opened wide, a +faint flush crimsoned her cheeks, and her breath was coming quickly. + +Adeline's mind was in a whirl. She felt as if she had been walking +gaily along a pleasant path and had stopped suddenly on the very brink +of a precipice. It would be idle to deny that Raymond Parsloe Devine +had attracted her extraordinarily. She had taken him at his own +valuation as an extremely hot potato, and her hero-worship had +gradually been turning into love. And now her hero had been shown to +have feet of clay. It was hard, I consider, on Raymond Parsloe Devine, +but that is how it goes in this world. You get a following as a +celebrity, and then you run up against another bigger celebrity and +your admirers desert you. One could moralize on this at considerable +length, but better not, perhaps. Enough to say that the glamour of +Raymond Devine ceased abruptly in that moment for Adeline, and her most +coherent thought at this juncture was the resolve, as soon as she got +up to her room, to burn the three signed photographs he had sent her +and to give the autographed presentation set of his books to the +grocer's boy. + +Mrs. Smethurst, meanwhile, having rallied somewhat, was endeavouring to +set the feast of reason and flow of soul going again. + +"And how do you like England, Mr. Brusiloff?" she asked. + +The celebrity paused in the act of lowering another segment of cake. + +"Dam good," he replied, cordially. + +"I suppose you have travelled all over the country by this time?" + +"You said it," agreed the Thinker. + +"Have you met many of our great public men?" + +"Yais--Yais--Quite a few of the nibs--Lloyid Gorge, I meet him. But----" +Beneath the matting a discontented expression came into his face, and +his voice took on a peevish note. "But I not meet your real great +men--your Arbmishel, your Arreevadon--I not meet them. That's what +gives me the pipovitch. Have _you_ ever met Arbmishel and +Arreevadon?" + +A strained, anguished look came into Mrs. Smethurst's face and was +reflected in the faces of the other members of the circle. The eminent +Russian had sprung two entirely new ones on them, and they felt that +their ignorance was about to be exposed. What would Vladimir Brusiloff +think of the Wood Hills Literary Society? The reputation of the Wood +Hills Literary Society was at stake, trembling in the balance, and +coming up for the third time. In dumb agony Mrs. Smethurst rolled her +eyes about the room searching for someone capable of coming to the +rescue. She drew blank. + +And then, from a distant corner, there sounded a deprecating, cough, +and those nearest Cuthbert Banks saw that he had stopped twisting his +right foot round his left ankle and his left foot round his right ankle +and was sitting up with a light of almost human intelligence in his +eyes. + +"Er----" said Cuthbert, blushing as every eye in the room seemed to fix +itself on him, "I think he means Abe Mitchell and Harry Vardon." + +"Abe Mitchell and Harry Vardon?" repeated Mrs. Smethurst, blankly. "I +never heard of----" + +"Yais! Yais! Most! Very!" shouted Vladimir Brusiloff, enthusiastically. +"Arbmishel and Arreevadon. You know them, yes, what, no, perhaps?" + +"I've played with Abe Mitchell often, and I was partnered with Harry +Vardon in last year's Open." + +The great Russian uttered a cry that shook the chandelier. + +"You play in ze Open? Why," he demanded reproachfully of Mrs. +Smethurst, "was I not been introducted to this young man who play in +opens?" + +"Well, really," faltered Mrs. Smethurst. "Well, the fact is, Mr. +Brusiloff----" + +She broke off. She was unequal to the task of explaining, without +hurting anyone's feelings, that she had always regarded Cuthbert as a +piece of cheese and a blot on the landscape. + +"Introduct me!" thundered the Celebrity. + +"Why, certainly, certainly, of course. This is Mr.----." + +She looked appealingly at Cuthbert. + +"Banks," prompted Cuthbert. + +"Banks!" cried Vladimir Brusiloff. "Not Cootaboot Banks?" + +"_Is_ your name Cootaboot?" asked Mrs. Smethurst, faintly. + +"Well, it's Cuthbert." + +"Yais! Yais! Cootaboot!" There was a rush and swirl, as the +effervescent Muscovite burst his way through the throng and rushed to +where Cuthbert sat. He stood for a moment eyeing him excitedly, then, +stooping swiftly, kissed him on both cheeks before Cuthbert could get +his guard up. "My dear young man, I saw you win ze French Open. Great! +Great! Grand! Superb! Hot stuff, and you can say I said so! Will you +permit one who is but eighteen at Nijni-Novgorod to salute you once +more?" + +And he kissed Cuthbert again. Then, brushing aside one or two +intellectuals who were in the way, he dragged up a chair and sat down. + +"You are a great man!" he said. + +"Oh, no," said Cuthbert modestly. + +"Yais! Great. Most! Very! The way you lay your approach-putts dead from +anywhere!" + +"Oh, I don't know." + +Mr. Brusiloff drew his chair closer. + +"Let me tell you one vairy funny story about putting. It was one day I +play at Nijni-Novgorod with the pro. against Lenin and Trotsky, and +Trotsky had a two-inch putt for the hole. But, just as he addresses the +ball, someone in the crowd he tries to assassinate Lenin with a +rewolwer--you know that is our great national sport, trying to +assassinate Lenin with rewolwers--and the bang puts Trotsky off his +stroke and he goes five yards past the hole, and then Lenin, who is +rather shaken, you understand, he misses again himself, and we win the +hole and match and I clean up three hundred and ninety-six thousand +roubles, or fifteen shillings in your money. Some gameovitch! And now +let me tell you one other vairy funny story----" + +Desultory conversation had begun in murmurs over the rest of the room, +as the Wood Hills intellectuals politely endeavoured to conceal the +fact that they realized that they were about as much out of it at this +re-union of twin souls as cats at a dog-show. From time to time they +started as Vladimir Brusiloff's laugh boomed out. Perhaps it was a +consolation to them to know that he was enjoying himself. + +As for Adeline, how shall I describe her emotions? She was stunned. +Before her very eyes the stone which the builders had rejected had +become the main thing, the hundred-to-one shot had walked away with the +race. A rush of tender admiration for Cuthbert Banks flooded her heart. +She saw that she had been all wrong. Cuthbert, whom she had always +treated with a patronizing superiority, was really a man to be looked +up to and worshipped. A deep, dreamy sigh shook Adeline's fragile form. + +Half an hour later Vladimir and Cuthbert Banks rose. + +"Goot-a-bye, Mrs. Smet-thirst," said the Celebrity. "Zank you for a +most charming visit. My friend Cootaboot and me we go now to shoot a +few holes. You will lend me clobs, friend Cootaboot?" + +"Any you want." + +"The niblicksky is what I use most. Goot-a-bye, Mrs. Smet-thirst." + +They were moving to the door, when Cuthbert felt a light touch on his +arm. Adeline was looking up at him tenderly. + +"May I come, too, and walk round with you?" + +Cuthbert's bosom heaved. + +"Oh," he said, with a tremor in his voice, "that you would walk round +with me for life!" + +Her eyes met his. + +"Perhaps," she whispered, softly, "it could be arranged." + + * * * * * + +"And so," (concluded the Oldest Member), "you see that golf can be of +the greatest practical assistance to a man in Life's struggle. Raymond +Parsloe Devine, who was no player, had to move out of the neighbourhood +immediately, and is now, I believe, writing scenarios out in California +for the Flicker Film Company. Adeline is married to Cuthbert, and it +was only his earnest pleading which prevented her from having their +eldest son christened Abe Mitchell Ribbed-Faced Mashie Banks, for she +is now as keen a devotee of the great game as her husband. Those who +know them say that theirs is a union so devoted, so----" + + * * * * * + +The Sage broke off abruptly, for the young man had rushed to the door +and out into the passage. Through the open door he could hear him +crying passionately to the waiter to bring back his clubs. + + + + +2 + +_A Woman is only a Woman_ + + +On a fine day in the spring, summer, or early autumn, there are few +spots more delightful than the terrace in front of our Golf Club. It is +a vantage-point peculiarly fitted to the man of philosophic mind: for +from it may be seen that varied, never-ending pageant, which men call +Golf, in a number of its aspects. To your right, on the first tee, +stand the cheery optimists who are about to make their opening drive, +happily conscious that even a topped shot will trickle a measurable +distance down the steep hill. Away in the valley, directly in front of +you, is the lake hole, where these same optimists will be converted to +pessimism by the wet splash of a new ball. At your side is the ninth +green, with its sinuous undulations which have so often wrecked the +returning traveller in sight of home. And at various points within your +line of vision are the third tee, the sixth tee, and the sinister +bunkers about the eighth green--none of them lacking in food for the +reflective mind. + +It is on this terrace that the Oldest Member sits, watching the younger +generation knocking at the divot. His gaze wanders from Jimmy +Fothergill's two-hundred-and-twenty-yard drive down the hill to the +silver drops that flash up in the sun, as young Freddie Woosley's +mashie-shot drops weakly into the waters of the lake. Returning, it +rests upon Peter Willard, large and tall, and James Todd, small and +slender, as they struggle up the fair-way of the ninth. + + * * * * * + +Love (says the Oldest Member) is an emotion which your true golfer +should always treat with suspicion. Do not misunderstand me. I am not +saying that love is a bad thing, only that it is an unknown quantity. I +have known cases where marriage improved a man's game, and other cases +where it seemed to put him right off his stroke. There seems to be no +fixed rule. But what I do say is that a golfer should be cautious. He +should not be led away by the first pretty face. I will tell you a +story that illustrates the point. It is the story of those two men who +have just got on to the ninth green--Peter Willard and James Todd. + +There is about great friendships between man and man (said the Oldest +Member) a certain inevitability that can only be compared with the +age-old association of ham and eggs. No one can say when it was that +these two wholesome and palatable food-stuffs first came together, nor +what was the mutual magnetism that brought their deathless partnership +about. One simply feels that it is one of the things that must be so. +Similarly with men. Who can trace to its first beginnings the love of +Damon for Pythias, of David for Jonathan, of Swan for Edgar? Who can +explain what it was about Crosse that first attracted Blackwell? We +simply say, "These men are friends," and leave it at that. + +In the case of Peter Willard and James Todd, one may hazard the guess +that the first link in the chain that bound them together was the fact +that they took up golf within a few days of each other, and contrived, +as time went on, to develop such equal form at the game that the most +expert critics are still baffled in their efforts to decide which is +the worse player. I have heard the point argued a hundred times without +any conclusion being reached. Supporters of Peter claim that his +driving off the tee entitles him to an unchallenged pre-eminence among +the world's most hopeless foozlers--only to be discomfited later when +the advocates of James show, by means of diagrams, that no one has ever +surpassed their man in absolute incompetence with the spoon. It is one +of those problems where debate is futile. + +Few things draw two men together more surely than a mutual inability to +master golf, coupled with an intense and ever-increasing love for the +game. At the end of the first few months, when a series of costly +experiments had convinced both Peter and James that there was not a +tottering grey-beard nor a toddling infant in the neighbourhood whose +downfall they could encompass, the two became inseparable. It was +pleasanter, they found, to play together, and go neck and neck round +the eighteen holes, than to take on some lissome youngster who could +spatter them all over the course with one old ball and a cut-down cleek +stolen from his father; or some spavined elder who not only rubbed it +into them, but was apt, between strokes, to bore them with personal +reminiscences of the Crimean War. So they began to play together early +and late. In the small hours before breakfast, long ere the first faint +piping of the waking caddie made itself heard from the caddie-shed, +they were half-way through their opening round. And at close of day, +when bats wheeled against the steely sky and the "pro's" had stolen +home to rest, you might see them in the deepening dusk, going through +the concluding exercises of their final spasm. After dark, they visited +each other's houses and read golf books. + +If you have gathered from what I have said that Peter Willard and James +Todd were fond of golf, I am satisfied. That is the impression I +intended to convey. They were real golfers, for real golf is a thing of +the spirit, not of mere mechanical excellence of stroke. + +It must not be thought, however, that they devoted too much of their +time and their thoughts to golf--assuming, indeed, that such a thing is +possible. Each was connected with a business in the metropolis; and +often, before he left for the links, Peter would go to the trouble and +expense of ringing up the office to say he would not be coming in that +day; while I myself have heard James--and this not once, but +frequently--say, while lunching in the club-house, that he had half a +mind to get Gracechurch Street on the 'phone and ask how things were +going. They were, in fact, the type of men of whom England is +proudest--the back-bone of a great country, toilers in the mart, +untired businessmen, keen red-blooded men of affairs. If they played a +little golf besides, who shall blame them? + +So they went on, day by day, happy and contented. And then the Woman +came into their lives, like the Serpent in the Links of Eden, and +perhaps for the first time they realized that they were not one +entity--not one single, indivisible Something that made for topped +drives and short putts--but two individuals, in whose breasts Nature +had implanted other desires than the simple ambition some day to do the +dog-leg hole on the second nine in under double figures. My friends +tell me that, when I am relating a story, my language is inclined at +times a little to obscure my meaning; but, if you understand from what +I have been saying that James Todd and Peter Willard both fell in love +with the same woman--all right, let us carry on. That is precisely what +I was driving at. + +I have not the pleasure of an intimate acquaintance with Grace +Forrester. I have seen her in the distance, watering the flowers in her +garden, and on these occasions her stance struck me as graceful. And +once, at a picnic, I observed her killing wasps with a teaspoon, and +was impressed by the freedom of the wrist-action of her back-swing. +Beyond this, I can say little. But she must have been attractive, for +there can be no doubt of the earnestness with which both Peter and +James fell in love with her. I doubt if either slept a wink the night +of the dance at which it was their privilege first to meet her. + +The next afternoon, happening to encounter Peter in the bunker near the +eleventh green, James said: + +"That was a nice girl, that Miss What's-her-name." + +And Peter, pausing for a moment from his trench-digging, replied: + +"Yes." + +And then James, with a pang, knew that he had a rival, for he had not +mentioned Miss Forrester's name, and yet Peter had divined that it was +to her that he had referred. + +Love is a fever which, so to speak, drives off without wasting time on +the address. On the very next morning after the conversation which I +have related, James Todd rang Peter Willard up on the 'phone and +cancelled their golf engagements for the day, on the plea of a sprained +wrist. Peter, acknowledging the cancellation, stated that he himself +had been on the point of ringing James up to say that he would be +unable to play owing to a slight headache. They met at tea-time at Miss +Forrester's house. James asked how Peter's headache was, and Peter said +it was a little better. Peter inquired after James's sprained wrist, +and was told it seemed on the mend. Miss Forrester dispensed tea and +conversation to both impartially. + +They walked home together. After an awkward silence of twenty minutes, +James said: + +"There is something about the atmosphere--the aura, shall I say?--that +emanates from a good woman that makes a man feel that life has a new, a +different meaning." + +Peter replied: + +"Yes." + +When they reached James's door, James said: + +"I won't ask you in tonight, old man. You want to go home and rest and +cure that headache." + +"Yes," said Peter. + +There was another silence. Peter was thinking that, only a couple of +days before, James had told him that he had a copy of Sandy MacBean's +"How to Become a Scratch Man Your First Season by Studying Photographs" +coming by parcel-post from town, and they had arranged to read it aloud +together. By now, thought Peter, it must be lying on his friend's +table. The thought saddened him. And James, guessing what was in +Peter's mind, was saddened too. But he did not waver. He was in no mood +to read MacBean's masterpiece that night. In the twenty minutes of +silence after leaving Miss Forrester he had realized that "Grace" +rhymes with "face", and he wanted to sit alone in his study and write +poetry. The two men parted with a distant nod. I beg your pardon? Yes, +you are right. Two distant nods. It was always a failing of mine to +count the score erroneously. + +It is not my purpose to weary you by a minute recital of the happenings +of each day that went by. On the surface, the lives of these two men +seemed unchanged. They still played golf together, and during the round +achieved towards each other a manner that, superficially, retained all +its ancient cheeriness and affection. If--I should say--when, James +topped his drive, Peter never failed to say "Hard luck!" And when--or, +rather, if Peter managed not to top his, James invariably said "Great!" +But things were not the same, and they knew it. + +It so happened, as it sometimes will on these occasions, for Fate is a +dramatist who gets his best effects with a small cast, that Peter +Willard and James Todd were the only visible aspirants for the hand of +Miss Forrester. Right at the beginning young Freddie Woosley had seemed +attracted by the girl, and had called once or twice with flowers and +chocolates, but Freddie's affections never centred themselves on one +object for more than a few days, and he had dropped out after the first +week. From that time on it became clear to all of us that, if Grace +Forrester intended to marry anyone in the place, it would be either +James or Peter; and a good deal of interest was taken in the matter by +the local sportsmen. So little was known of the form of the two men, +neither having figured as principal in a love-affair before, that even +money was the best you could get, and the market was sluggish. I think +my own flutter of twelve golf-balls, taken up by Percival Brown, was +the most substantial of any of the wagers. I selected James as the +winner. Why, I can hardly say, unless that he had an aunt who +contributed occasional stories to the "Woman's Sphere". These things +sometimes weigh with a girl. On the other hand, George Lucas, who had +half-a-dozen of ginger-ale on Peter, based his calculations on the fact +that James wore knickerbockers on the links, and that no girl could +possibly love a man with calves like that. In short, you see, we really +had nothing to go on. + +Nor had James and Peter. The girl seemed to like them both equally. +They never saw her except in each other's company. And it was not until +one day when Grace Forrester was knitting a sweater that there seemed a +chance of getting a clue to her hidden feelings. + +When the news began to spread through the place that Grace was knitting +this sweater there was a big sensation. The thing seemed to us +practically to amount to a declaration. + +That was the view that James Todd and Peter Willard took of it, and +they used to call on Grace, watch her knitting, and come away with +their heads full of complicated calculations. The whole thing hung on +one point--to wit, what size the sweater was going to be. If it was +large, then it must be for Peter; if small, then James was the lucky +man. Neither dared to make open inquiries, but it began to seem almost +impossible to find out the truth without them. No masculine eye can +reckon up purls and plains and estimate the size of chest which the +garment is destined to cover. Moreover, with amateur knitters there +must always be allowed a margin for involuntary error. There were many +cases during the war where our girls sent sweaters to their sweethearts +which would have induced strangulation in their young brothers. The +amateur sweater of those days was, in fact, practically tantamount to +German propaganda. + +Peter and James were accordingly baffled. One evening the sweater would +look small, and James would come away jubilant; the next it would have +swollen over a vast area, and Peter would walk home singing. The +suspense of the two men can readily be imagined. On the one hand, they +wanted to know their fate; on the other, they fully realized that +whoever the sweater was for would have to wear it. And, as it was a +vivid pink and would probably not fit by a mile, their hearts quailed +at the prospect. + +In all affairs of human tension there must come a breaking point. It +came one night as the two men were walking home. + +"Peter," said James, stopping in mid-stride. He mopped his forehead. +His manner had been feverish all the evening. + +"Yes?" said Peter. + +"I can't stand this any longer. I haven't had a good night's rest for +weeks. We must find out definitely which of us is to have that +sweater." + +"Let's go back and ask her," said Peter. + +So they turned back and rang the bell and went into the house and +presented themselves before Miss Forrester. + +"Lovely evening," said James, to break the ice. + +"Superb," said Peter. + +"Delightful," said Miss Forrester, looking a little surprised at +finding the troupe playing a return date without having booked it in +advance. + +"To settle a bet," said James, "will you please tell us who--I should +say, whom--you are knitting that sweater for?" + +"It is not a sweater," replied Miss Forrester, with a womanly candour +that well became her. "It is a sock. And it is for my cousin Juliet's +youngest son, Willie." + +"Good night," said James. + +"Good night," said Peter. + +"Good night," said Grace Forrester. + +It was during the long hours of the night, when ideas so often come to +wakeful men, that James was struck by an admirable solution of his and +Peter's difficulty. It seemed to him that, were one or the other to +leave Woodhaven, the survivor would find himself in a position to +conduct his wooing as wooing should be conducted. Hitherto, as I have +indicated, neither had allowed the other to be more than a few minutes +alone with the girl. They watched each other like hawks. When James +called, Peter called. When Peter dropped in, James invariably popped +round. The thing had resolved itself into a stalemate. + +The idea which now came to James was that he and Peter should settle +their rivalry by an eighteen-hole match on the links. He thought very +highly of the idea before he finally went to sleep, and in the morning +the scheme looked just as good to him as it had done overnight. + +James was breakfasting next morning, preparatory to going round to +disclose his plan to Peter, when Peter walked in, looking happier than +he had done for days. + +"'Morning," said James. + +"'Morning," said Peter. + +Peter sat down and toyed absently with a slice of bacon. + +"I've got an idea," he said. + +"One isn't many," said James, bringing his knife down with a jerk-shot +on a fried egg. "What is your idea?" + +"Got it last night as I was lying awake. It struck me that, if either +of us was to clear out of this place, the other would have a fair +chance. You know what I mean--with Her. At present we've got each other +stymied. Now, how would it be," said Peter, abstractedly spreading +marmalade on his bacon, "if we were to play an eighteen-hole match, the +loser to leg out of the neighbourhood and stay away long enough to give +the winner the chance to find out exactly how things stood?" + +James started so violently that he struck himself in the left eye with +his fork. + +"That's exactly the idea I got last night, too." + +"Then it's a go?" + +"It's the only thing to do." + +There was silence for a moment. Both men were thinking. Remember, they +were friends. For years they had shared each other's sorrows, joys, and +golf-balls, and sliced into the same bunkers. + +Presently Peter said: + +"I shall miss you." + +"What do you mean, miss me?" + +"When you're gone. Woodhaven won't seem the same place. But of course +you'll soon be able to come back. I sha'n't waste any time proposing." + +"Leave me your address," said James, "and I'll send you a wire when you +can return. You won't be offended if I don't ask you to be best man at +the wedding? In the circumstances it might be painful to you." + +Peter sighed dreamily. + +"We'll have the sitting-room done in blue. Her eyes are blue." + +"Remember," said James, "there will always be a knife and fork for you +at our little nest. Grace is not the woman to want me to drop my +bachelor friends." + +"Touching this match," said Peter. "Strict Royal and Ancient rules, of +course?" + +"Certainly." + +"I mean to say--no offence, old man--but no grounding niblicks in +bunkers." + +"Precisely. And, without hinting at anything personal, the ball shall +be considered holed-out only when it is in the hole, not when it stops +on the edge." + +"Undoubtedly. And--you know I don't want to hurt your feelings--missing +the ball counts as a stroke, not as a practice-swing." + +"Exactly. And--you'll forgive me if I mention it--a player whose ball +has fallen in the rough, may not pull up all the bushes within a radius +of three feet." + +"In fact, strict rules." + +"Strict rules." + +They shook hands without more words. And presently Peter walked out, +and James, with a guilty look over his shoulder, took down Sandy +MacBean's great work from the bookshelf and began to study the +photograph of the short approach-shot showing Mr. MacBean swinging from +Point A, through dotted line B-C, to Point D, his head the while +remaining rigid at the spot marked with a cross. He felt a little +guiltily that he had stolen a march on his friend, and that the contest +was as good as over. + + * * * * * + +I cannot recall a lovelier summer day than that on which the great +Todd-Willard eighteen-hole match took place. It had rained during the +night, and now the sun shone down from a clear blue sky on to turf that +glistened more greenly than the young grass of early spring. +Butterflies flitted to and fro; birds sang merrily. In short, all +Nature smiled. And it is to be doubted if Nature ever had a better +excuse for smiling--or even laughing outright; for matches like that +between James Todd and Peter Willard do not occur every day. + +Whether it was that love had keyed them up, or whether hours of study +of Braid's "Advanced Golf" and the Badminton Book had produced a +belated effect, I cannot say; but both started off quite reasonably +well. Our first hole, as you can see, is a bogey four, and James was +dead on the pin in seven, leaving Peter, who had twice hit the United +Kingdom with his mashie in mistake for the ball, a difficult putt for +the half. Only one thing could happen when you left Peter a difficult +putt; and James advanced to the lake hole one up, Peter, as he +followed, trying to console himself with the thought that many of the +best golfers prefer to lose the first hole and save themselves for a +strong finish. + +Peter and James had played over the lake hole so often that they had +become accustomed to it, and had grown into the habit of sinking a ball +or two as a preliminary formality with much the same stoicism displayed +by those kings in ancient and superstitious times who used to fling +jewellery into the sea to propitiate it before they took a voyage. But +today, by one of those miracles without which golf would not be golf, +each of them got over with his first shot--and not only over, but dead +on the pin. Our "pro." himself could not have done better. + +I think it was at this point that the two men began to go to pieces. +They were in an excited frame of mind, and this thing unmanned them. +You will no doubt recall Keats's poem about stout Cortez staring with +eagle eyes at the Pacific while all his men gazed at each other with a +wild surmise, silent upon a peak in Darien. Precisely so did Peter +Willard and James Todd stare with eagle eyes at the second lake hole, +and gaze at each other with a wild surmise, silent upon a tee in +Woodhaven. They had dreamed of such a happening so often and woke to +find the vision false, that at first they could not believe that the +thing had actually occurred. + +"I got over!" whispered James, in an awed voice. + +"So did I!" muttered Peter. + +"In one!" + +"With my very first!" + +They walked in silence round the edge of the lake, and holed out. One +putt was enough for each, and they halved the hole with a two. Peter's +previous record was eight, and James had once done a seven. There are +times when strong men lose their self-control, and this was one of +them. They reached the third tee in a daze, and it was here that +mortification began to set in. + +The third hole is another bogey four, up the hill and past the tree +that serves as a direction-post, the hole itself being out of sight. On +his day, James had often done it in ten and Peter in nine; but now they +were unnerved. James, who had the honour, shook visibly as he addressed +his ball. Three times he swung and only connected with the ozone; the +fourth time he topped badly. The discs had been set back a little way, +and James had the mournful distinction of breaking a record for the +course by playing his fifth shot from the tee. It was a low, raking +brassey-shot, which carried a heap of stones twenty feet to the right +and finished in a furrow. Peter, meanwhile, had popped up a lofty ball +which came to rest behind a stone. + +It was now that the rigid rules governing this contest began to take +their toll. Had they been playing an ordinary friendly round, each +would have teed up on some convenient hillock and probably been past +the tree with their second, for James would, in ordinary circumstances, +have taken his drive back and regarded the strokes he had made as a +little preliminary practice to get him into midseason form. But today +it was war to the niblick, and neither man asked nor expected quarter. +Peter's seventh shot dislodged the stone, leaving him a clear field, +and James, with his eleventh, extricated himself from the furrow. Fifty +feet from the tree James was eighteen, Peter twelve; but then the +latter, as every golfer does at times, suddenly went right off his +game. He hit the tree four times, then hooked into the sand-bunkers to +the left of the hole. James, who had been playing a game that was +steady without being brilliant, was on the green in twenty-six, Peter +taking twenty-seven. Poor putting lost James the hole. Peter was down +in thirty-three, but the pace was too hot for James. He missed a +two-foot putt for the half, and they went to the fourth tee all square. + +The fourth hole follows the curve of the road, on the other side of +which are picturesque woods. It presents no difficulties to the expert, +but it has pitfalls for the novice. The dashing player stands for a +slice, while the more cautious are satisfied if they can clear the +bunker that spans the fairway and lay their ball well out to the left, +whence an iron shot will take them to the green. Peter and James +combined the two policies. Peter aimed to the left and got a slice, and +James, also aiming to the left, topped into the bunker. Peter, +realizing from experience the futility of searching for his ball in the +woods, drove a second, which also disappeared into the jungle, as did +his third. By the time he had joined James in the bunker he had played +his sixth. + +It is the glorious uncertainty of golf that makes it the game it is. +The fact that James and Peter, lying side by side in the same bunker, +had played respectively one and six shots, might have induced an +unthinking observer to fancy the chances of the former. And no doubt, +had he not taken seven strokes to extricate himself from the pit, while +his opponent, by some act of God, contrived to get out in two, James's +chances might have been extremely rosy. As it was, the two men +staggered out on to the fairway again with a score of eight apiece. +Once past the bunker and round the bend of the road, the hole becomes +simple. A judicious use of the cleek put Peter on the green in +fourteen, while James, with a Braid iron, reached it in twelve. Peter +was down in seventeen, and James contrived to halve. It was only as he +was leaving the hole that the latter discovered that he had been +putting with his niblick, which cannot have failed to exercise a +prejudicial effect on his game. These little incidents are bound to +happen when one is in a nervous and highly-strung condition. + +The fifth and sixth holes produced no unusual features. Peter won the +fifth in eleven, and James the sixth in ten. The short seventh they +halved in nine. The eighth, always a tricky hole, they took no +liberties with, James, sinking a long putt with his twenty-third, just +managing to halve. A ding-dong race up the hill for the ninth found +James first at the pin, and they finished the first nine with James one +up. + +As they left the green James looked a little furtively at his +companion. + +"You might be strolling on to the tenth," he said. "I want to get a few +balls at the shop. And my mashie wants fixing up. I sha'n't be long." + +"I'll come with you," said Peter. + +"Don't bother," said James. "You go on and hold our place at the tee." + +I regret to say that James was lying. His mashie was in excellent +repair, and he still had a dozen balls in his bag, it being his prudent +practice always to start out with eighteen. No! What he had said was +mere subterfuge. He wanted to go to his locker and snatch a few minutes +with Sandy MacBean's "How to Become a Scratch Man". He felt sure that +one more glance at the photograph of Mr. MacBean driving would give him +the mastery of the stroke and so enable him to win the match. In this I +think he was a little sanguine. The difficulty about Sandy MacBean's +method of tuition was that he laid great stress on the fact that the +ball should be directly in a line with a point exactly in the centre of +the back of the player's neck; and so far James's efforts to keep his +eye on the ball and on the back of his neck simultaneously had produced +no satisfactory results. + + * * * * * + +It seemed to James, when he joined Peter on the tenth tee, that the +latter's manner was strange. He was pale. There was a curious look in +his eye. + +"James, old man," he said. + +"Yes?" said James. + +"While you were away I have been thinking. James, old man, do you +really love this girl?" + +James stared. A spasm of pain twisted Peter's face. + +"Suppose," he said in a low voice, "she were not all you--we--think she +is!" + +"What do you mean?" + +"Nothing, nothing." + +"Miss Forrester is an angel." + +"Yes, yes. Quite so." + +"I know what it is," said James, passionately. "You're trying to put me +off my stroke. You know that the least thing makes me lose my form." + +"No, no!" + +"You hope that you can take my mind off the game and make me go to +pieces, and then you'll win the match." + +"On the contrary," said Peter. "I intend to forfeit the match." + +James reeled. + +"What!" + +"I give up." + +"But--but----" James shook with emotion. His voice quavered. "Ah!" he +cried. "I see now: I understand! You are doing this for me because I am +your pal. Peter, this is noble! This is the sort of thing you read +about in books. I've seen it in the movies. But I can't accept the +sacrifice." + +"You must!" + +"No, no!" + +"I insist!" + +"Do you mean this?" + +"I give her up, James, old man. I--I hope you will be happy." + +"But I don't know what to say. How can I thank you?" + +"Don't thank me." + +"But, Peter, do you fully realize what you are doing? True, I am one +up, but there are nine holes to go, and I am not right on my game +today. You might easily beat me. Have you forgotten that I once took +forty-seven at the dog-leg hole? This may be one of my bad days. Do you +understand that if you insist on giving up I shall go to Miss Forrester +tonight and propose to her?" + +"I understand." + +"And yet you stick to it that you are through?" + +"I do. And, but the way, there's no need for you to wait till tonight. +I saw Miss Forrester just now outside the tennis court. She's alone." + +James turned crimson. + +"Then I think perhaps----" + +"You'd better go to her at once." + +"I will." James extended his hand. "Peter, old man, I shall never +forget this." + +"That's all right." + +"What are you going to do?" + +"Now, do you mean? Oh, I shall potter round the second nine. If you +want me, you'll find me somewhere about." + +"You'll come to the wedding, Peter?" said James, wistfully. + +"Of course," said Peter. "Good luck." + +He spoke cheerily, but, when the other had turned to go, he stood +looking after him thoughtfully. Then he sighed a heavy sigh. + + * * * * * + +James approached Miss Forrester with a beating heart. She made a +charming picture as she stood there in the sunlight, one hand on her +hip, the other swaying a tennis racket. + +"How do you do?" said James. + +"How are you, Mr. Todd? Have you been playing golf?" + +"Yes." + +"With Mr. Willard?" + +"Yes. We were having a match." + +"Golf," said Grace Forrester, "seems to make men very rude. Mr. Willard +left me without a word in the middle of our conversation." + +James was astonished. + +"Were you talking to Peter?" + +"Yes. Just now. I can't understand what was the matter with him. He +just turned on his heel and swung off." + +"You oughtn't to turn on your heel when you swing," said James; "only +on the ball of the foot." + +"I beg your pardon?" + +"Nothing, nothing. I wasn't thinking. The fact is, I've something on my +mind. So has Peter. You mustn't think too hardly of him. We have been +playing an important match, and it must have got on his nerves. You +didn't happen by any chance to be watching us?" + +"No." + +"Ah! I wish you had seen me at the lake-hole. I did it one under par." + +"Was your father playing?" + +"You don't understand. I mean I did it in one better than even the +finest player is supposed to do it. It's a mashie-shot, you know. You +mustn't play too light, or you fall in the lake; and you mustn't play +it too hard, or you go past the hole into the woods. It requires the +nicest delicacy and judgment, such as I gave it. You might have to wait +a year before seeing anyone do it in two again. I doubt if the 'pro.' +often does it in two. Now, directly we came to this hole today, I made +up my mind that there was going to be no mistake. The great secret of +any shot at golf is ease, elegance, and the ability to relax. The +majority of men, you will find, think it important that their address +should be good." + +"How snobbish! What does it matter where a man lives?" + +"You don't absolutely follow me. I refer to the waggle and the stance +before you make the stroke. Most players seem to fix in their minds the +appearance of the angles which are presented by the position of the +arms, legs, and club shaft, and it is largely the desire to retain +these angles which results in their moving their heads and stiffening +their muscles so that there is no freedom in the swing. There is only +one point which vitally affects the stroke, and the only reason why +that should be kept constant is that you are enabled to see your ball +clearly. That is the pivotal point marked at the base of the neck, and +a line drawn from this point to the ball should be at right angles to +the line of flight." + +James paused for a moment for air, and as he paused Miss Forrester +spoke. + +"This is all gibberish to me," she said. + +"Gibberish!" gasped James. "I am quoting verbatim from one of the best +authorities on golf." + +Miss Forrester swung her tennis racket irritably. + +"Golf," she said, "bores me pallid. I think it is the silliest game +ever invented!" + +The trouble about telling a story is that words are so feeble a means +of depicting the supreme moments of life. That is where the artist has +the advantage over the historian. Were I an artist, I should show James +at this point falling backwards with his feet together and his eyes +shut, with a semi-circular dotted line marking the progress of his +flight and a few stars above his head to indicate moral collapse. There +are no words that can adequately describe the sheer, black horror that +froze the blood in his veins as this frightful speech smote his ears. + +He had never inquired into Miss Forrester's religious views before, but +he had always assumed that they were sound. And now here she was +polluting the golden summer air with the most hideous blasphemy. It +would be incorrect to say that James's love was turned to hate. He did +not hate Grace. The repulsion he felt was deeper than mere hate. What +he felt was not altogether loathing and not wholly pity. It was a blend +of the two. + +There was a tense silence. The listening world stood still. Then, +without a word, James Todd turned and tottered away. + + * * * * * + +Peter was working moodily in the twelfth bunker when his friend +arrived. He looked up with a start. Then, seeing that the other was +alone, he came forward hesitatingly. + +"Am I to congratulate you?" + +James breathed a deep breath. + +"You are!" he said. "On an escape!" + +"She refused you?" + +"She didn't get the chance. Old man, have you ever sent one right up +the edge of that bunker in front of the seventh and just not gone in?" + +"Very rarely." + +"I did once. It was my second shot, from a good lie, with the light +iron, and I followed well through and thought I had gone just too far, +and, when I walked up, there was my ball on the edge of the bunker, +nicely teed up on a chunk of grass, so that I was able to lay it dead +with my mashie-niblick, holing out in six. Well, what I mean to say is, +I feel now as I felt then--as if some unseen power had withheld me in +time from some frightful disaster." + +"I know just how you feel," said Peter, gravely. + +"Peter, old man, that girl said golf bored her pallid. She said she +thought it was the silliest game ever invented." He paused to mark the +effect of his words. Peter merely smiled a faint, wan smile. "You don't +seem revolted," said James. + +"I am revolted, but not surprised. You see, she said the same thing to +me only a few minutes before." + +"She did!" + +"It amounted to the same thing. I had just been telling her how I did +the lake-hole today in two, and she said that in her opinion golf was a +game for children with water on the brain who weren't athletic enough +to play Animal Grab." + +The two men shivered in sympathy. + +"There must be insanity in the family," said James at last. + +"That," said Peter, "is the charitable explanation." + +"We were fortunate to find it out in time." + +"We were!" + +"We mustn't run a risk like that again." + +"Never again!" + +"I think we had better take up golf really seriously. It will keep us +out of mischief." + +"You're quite right. We ought to do our four rounds a day regularly." + +"In spring, summer, and autumn. And in winter it would be rash not to +practise most of the day at one of those indoor schools." + +"We ought to be safe that way." + +"Peter, old man," said James, "I've been meaning to speak to you about +it for some time. I've got Sandy MacBean's new book, and I think you +ought to read it. It is full of helpful hints." + +"James!" + +"Peter!" + +Silently the two men clasped hands. James Todd and Peter Willard were +themselves again. + + * * * * * + +And so (said the Oldest Member) we come back to our original +starting-point--to wit, that, while there is nothing to be said +definitely against love, your golfer should be extremely careful how he +indulges in it. It may improve his game or it may not. But, if he finds +that there is any danger that it may not--if the object of his +affections is not the kind of girl who will listen to him with cheerful +sympathy through the long evenings, while he tells her, illustrating +stance and grip and swing with the kitchen poker, each detail of the +day's round--then, I say unhesitatingly, he had better leave it alone. +Love has had a lot of press-agenting from the oldest times; but there +are higher, nobler things than love. A woman is only a woman, but a +hefty drive is a slosh. + + + + +3 + +_A Mixed Threesome_ + + +It was the holiday season, and during the holidays the Greens +Committees have decided that the payment of twenty guineas shall +entitle fathers of families not only to infest the course themselves, +but also to decant their nearest and dearest upon it in whatever +quantity they please. All over the links, in consequence, happy, +laughing groups of children had broken out like a rash. A wan-faced +adult, who had been held up for ten minutes while a drove of issue +quarrelled over whether little Claude had taken two hundred or two +hundred and twenty approach shots to reach the ninth green sank into a +seat beside the Oldest Member. + +"What luck?" inquired the Sage. + +"None to speak of," returned the other, moodily. "I thought I had +bagged a small boy in a Lord Fauntleroy suit on the sixth, but he +ducked. These children make me tired. They should be bowling their +hoops in the road. Golf is a game for grownups. How can a fellow play, +with a platoon of progeny blocking him at every hole?" + +The Oldest Member shook his head. He could not subscribe to these +sentiments. + +No doubt (said the Oldest Member) the summer golf-child is, from the +point of view of the player who likes to get round the course in a +single afternoon, something of a trial; but, personally, I confess, it +pleases me to see my fellow human beings--and into this category +golf-children, though at the moment you may not be broad-minded enough +to admit it, undoubtedly fall--taking to the noblest of games at an +early age. Golf, like measles, should be caught young, for, if +postponed to riper years, the results may be serious. Let me tell you +the story of Mortimer Sturgis, which illustrates what I mean rather +aptly. + +Mortimer Sturgis, when I first knew him, was a care-free man of +thirty-eight, of amiable character and independent means, which he +increased from time to time by judicious ventures on the Stock +Exchange. Although he had never played golf, his had not been +altogether an ill-spent life. He swung a creditable racket at tennis, +was always ready to contribute a baritone solo to charity concerts, and +gave freely to the poor. He was what you might call a golden-mean man, +good-hearted rather than magnetic, with no serious vices and no heroic +virtues. For a hobby, he had taken up the collecting of porcelain +vases, and he was engaged to Betty Weston, a charming girl of +twenty-five, a lifelong friend of mine. + +I like Mortimer. Everybody liked him. But, at the same time, I was a +little surprised that a girl like Betty should have become engaged to +him. As I said before, he was not magnetic; and magnetism, I thought, +was the chief quality she would have demanded in a man. Betty was one +of those ardent, vivid girls, with an intense capacity for +hero-worship, and I would have supposed that something more in the +nature of a plumed knight or a corsair of the deep would have been her +ideal. But, of course, if there is a branch of modern industry where +the demand is greater than the supply, it is the manufacture of knights +and corsairs; and nowadays a girl, however flaming her aspirations, has +to take the best she can get. I must admit that Betty seemed perfectly +content with Mortimer. + +Such, then, was the state of affairs when Eddie Denton arrived, and the +trouble began. + +I was escorting Betty home one evening after a tea-party at which we +had been fellow-guests, when, walking down the road, we happened to +espy Mortimer. He broke into a run when he saw us, and galloped up, +waving a piece of paper in his hand. He was plainly excited, a thing +which was unusual in this well-balanced man. His broad, good-humoured +face was working violently. + +"Good news!" he cried. "Good news! Dear old Eddie's back!" + +"Oh, how nice for you, dear!" said Betty. "Eddie Denton is Mortimer's +best friend," she explained to me. "He has told me so much about him. I +have been looking forward to his coming home. Mortie thinks the world +of him." + +"So will you, when you know him," cried Mortimer. "Dear old Eddie! He's +a wonder! The best fellow on earth! We were at school and the 'Varsity +together. There's nobody like Eddie! He landed yesterday. Just home +from Central Africa. He's an explorer, you know," he said to me. +"Spends all his time in places where it's death for a white man to go." + +"An explorer!" I heard Betty breathe, as if to herself. I was not so +impressed, I fear, as she was. Explorers, as a matter of fact, leave me +a trifle cold. It has always seemed to me that the difficulties of +their life are greatly exaggerated--generally by themselves. In a large +country like Africa, for instance, I should imagine that it was almost +impossible for a man not to get somewhere if he goes on long enough. +Give _me_ the fellow who can plunge into the bowels of the earth +at Piccadilly Circus and find the right Tube train with nothing but a +lot of misleading signs to guide him. However, we are not all +constituted alike in this world, and it was apparent from the flush on +her cheek and the light in her eyes that Betty admired explorers. + +"I wired to him at once," went on Mortimer, "and insisted on his coming +down here. It's two years since I saw him. You don't know how I have +looked forward, dear, to you and Eddie meeting. He is just your sort. I +know how romantic you are and keen on adventure and all that. Well, +you should hear Eddie tell the story of how he brought down the +bull _bongo_ with his last cartridge after all the _pongos_, or +native bearers, had fled into the _dongo_, or undergrowth." + +"I should love to!" whispered Betty, her eyes glowing. I suppose to an +impressionable girl these things really are of absorbing interest. For +myself, _bongos_ intrigue me even less than _pongos_, while +_dongos_ frankly bore me. "When do you expect him?" + +"He will get my wire tonight. I'm hoping we shall see the dear old +fellow tomorrow afternoon some time. How surprised old Eddie will be to +hear that I'm engaged. He's such a confirmed bachelor himself. He told +me once that he considered the wisest thing ever said by human tongue +was the Swahili proverb--'Whoso taketh a woman into his kraal +depositeth himself straightway in the _wongo_.' _Wongo_, he +tells me, is a sort of broth composed of herbs and meat-bones, +corresponding to our soup. You must get Eddie to give it you in the +original Swahili. It sounds even better." + +I saw the girl's eyes flash, and there came into her face that peculiar +set expression which married men know. It passed in an instant, but not +before it had given me material for thought which lasted me all the way +to my house and into the silent watches of the night. I was fond of +Mortimer Sturgis, and I could see trouble ahead for him as plainly as +though I had been a palmist reading his hand at two guineas a visit. +There are other proverbs fully as wise as the one which Mortimer had +translated from the Swahili, and one of the wisest is that quaint old +East London saying, handed down from one generation of costermongers to +another, and whispered at midnight in the wigwams of the whelk-seller! +"Never introduce your donah to a pal." In those seven words is +contained the wisdom of the ages. I could read the future so plainly. +What but one thing could happen after Mortimer had influenced Betty's +imagination with his stories of his friend's romantic career, and added +the finishing touch by advertising him as a woman-hater? He might just +as well have asked for his ring back at once. My heart bled for +Mortimer. + + * * * * + +I happened to call at his house on the second evening of the explorer's +visit, and already the mischief had been done. + +Denton was one of those lean, hard-bitten men with smouldering eyes and +a brick-red complexion. He looked what he was, the man of action and +enterprise. He had the wiry frame and strong jaw without which no +explorer is complete, and Mortimer, beside him, seemed but a poor, soft +product of our hot-house civilization. Mortimer, I forgot to say, wore +glasses; and, if there is one time more than another when a man should +not wear glasses, it is while a strong-faced, keen-eyed wanderer in the +wilds is telling a beautiful girl the story of his adventures. + +For this was what Denton was doing. My arrival seemed to have +interrupted him in the middle of narrative. He shook my hand in a +strong, silent sort of way, and resumed: + +"Well, the natives seemed fairly friendly, so I decided to stay the +night." + +I made a mental note never to seem fairly friendly to an explorer. If +you do, he always decides to stay the night. + +"In the morning they took me down to the river. At this point it widens +into a _kongo_, or pool, and it was here, they told me, that the +crocodile mostly lived, subsisting on the native oxen--the short-horned +_jongos_--which, swept away by the current while crossing the ford +above, were carried down on the _longos_, or rapids. It was not, +however, till the second evening that I managed to catch sight of his +ugly snout above the surface. I waited around, and on the third day I +saw him suddenly come out of the water and heave his whole length on to +a sandbank in mid-stream and go to sleep in the sun. He was certainly a +monster--fully thirty--you have never been in Central Africa, have you, +Miss Weston? No? You ought to go there!--fully fifty feet from tip to +tail. There he lay, glistening. I shall never forget the sight." + +He broke off to light a cigarette. I heard Betty draw in her breath +sharply. Mortimer was beaming through his glasses with the air of the +owner of a dog which is astonishing a drawing-room with its clever +tricks. + +"And what did you do then, Mr. Denton?" asked Betty, breathlessly. + +"Yes, what did you do then, old chap?" said Mortimer. + +Denton blew out the match and dropped it on the ash-tray. + +"Eh? Oh," he said, carelessly, "I swam across and shot him." + +"Swam across and shot him!" + +"Yes. It seemed to me that the chance was too good to be missed. Of +course, I might have had a pot at him from the bank, but the chances +were I wouldn't have hit him in a vital place. So I swam across to the +sandbank, put the muzzle of my gun in his mouth, and pulled the +trigger. I have rarely seen a crocodile so taken aback." + +"But how dreadfully dangerous!" + +"Oh, danger!" Eddie Denton laughed lightly. "One drops into the habit +of taking a few risks out there, you know. Talking of _danger_, +the time when things really did look a little nasty was when the +wounded _gongo_ cornered me in a narrow _tongo_ and I only had +a pocket-knife with everything in it broken except the corkscrew +and the thing for taking stones out of horses' hoofs. It was like +this----" + +I could bear no more. I am a tender-hearted man, and I made some excuse +and got away. From the expression on the girl's face I could see that +it was only a question of days before she gave her heart to this +romantic newcomer. + + * * * * * + +As a matter of fact, it was on the following afternoon that she called +on me and told me that the worst had happened. I had known her from a +child, you understand, and she always confided her troubles to me. + +"I want your advice," she began. "I'm so wretched!" + +She burst into tears. I could see the poor girl was in a highly nervous +condition, so I did my best to calm her by describing how I had once +done the long hole in four. My friends tell me that there is no finer +soporific, and it seemed as though they may be right, for presently, +just as I had reached the point where I laid my approach-putt dead from +a distance of fifteen feet, she became quieter. She dried her eyes, +yawned once or twice, and looked at me bravely. + +"I love Eddie Denton!" she said. + +"I feared as much. When did you feel this coming on?" + +"It crashed on me like a thunderbolt last night after dinner. We were +walking in the garden, and he was just telling me how he had been +bitten by a poisonous _zongo_, when I seemed to go all giddy. When +I came to myself I was in Eddie's arms. His face was pressed against +mine, and he was gargling." + +"Gargling?" + +"I thought so at first. But he reassured me. He was merely speaking in +one of the lesser-known dialects of the Walla-Walla natives of Eastern +Uganda, into which he always drops in moments of great emotion. He soon +recovered sufficiently to give me a rough translation, and then I knew +that he loved me. He kissed me. I kissed him. We kissed each other." + +"And where was Mortimer all this while?" + +"Indoors, cataloguing his collection of vases." + +For a moment, I confess, I was inclined to abandon Mortimer's cause. A +man, I felt, who could stay indoors cataloguing vases while his +_fiancee_ wandered in the moonlight with explorers deserved all +that was coming to him. I overcame the feeling. + +"Have you told him?" + +"Of course not." + +"You don't think it might be of interest to him?" + +"How can I tell him? It would break his heart. I am awfully fond of +Mortimer. So is Eddie. We would both die rather than do anything to +hurt him. Eddie is the soul of honour. He agrees with me that Mortimer +must never know." + +"Then you aren't going to break off your engagement?" + +"I couldn't. Eddie feels the same. He says that, unless something can +be done, he will say good-bye to me and creep far, far away to some +distant desert, and there, in the great stillness, broken only by the +cry of the prowling _yongo_, try to forget." + +"When you say 'unless something can be done,' what do you mean? What +can be done?" + +"I thought you might have something to suggest. Don't you think it +possible that somehow Mortimer might take it into his head to break the +engagement himself?" + +"Absurd! He loves you devotedly." + +"I'm afraid so. Only the other day I dropped one of his best vases, and +he just smiled and said it didn't matter." + +"I can give you even better proof than that. This morning Mortimer came +to me and asked me to give him secret lessons in golf." + +"Golf! But he despises golf." + +"Exactly. But he is going to learn it for your sake." + +"But why secret lessons?" + +"Because he wants to keep it a surprise for your birthday. Now can you +doubt his love?" + +"I am not worthy of him!" she whispered. + +The words gave me an idea. + +"Suppose," I said, "we could convince Mortimer of that!" + +"I don't understand." + +"Suppose, for instance, he could be made to believe that you were, let +us say, a dipsomaniac." + +She shook her head. "He knows that already." + +"What!" + +"Yes; I told him I sometimes walked in my sleep." + +"I mean a secret drinker." + +"Nothing will induce me to pretend to be a secret drinker." + +"Then a drug-fiend?" I suggested, hopefully. + +"I hate medicine." + +"I have it!" I said. "A kleptomaniac." + +"What is that?" + +"A person who steals things." + +"Oh, that's horrid." + +"Not at all. It's a perfectly ladylike thing to do. You don't know you +do it." + +"But, if I don't know I do it, how do I know I do it?" + +"I beg your pardon?" + +"I mean, how can I tell Mortimer I do it if I don't know?" + +"You don't tell him. I will tell him. I will inform him tomorrow that +you called on me this afternoon and stole my watch and"--I glanced +about the room--"my silver matchbox." + +"I'd rather have that little vinaigrette." + +"You don't get either. I merely say you stole it. What will happen?" + +"Mortimer will hit you with a cleek." + +"Not at all. I am an old man. My white hairs protect me. What he will +do is to insist on confronting me with you and asking you to deny the +foul charge." + +"And then?" + +"Then you admit it and release him from his engagement." + +She sat for a while in silence. I could see that my words had made an +impression. + +"I think it's a splendid idea. Thank you very much." She rose and moved +to the door. "I knew you would suggest something wonderful." She +hesitated. "You don't think it would make it sound more plausible if I +really took the vinaigrette?" she added, a little wistfully. + +"It would spoil everything," I replied, firmly, as I reached for the +vinaigrette and locked it carefully in my desk. + +She was silent for a moment, and her glance fell on the carpet. That, +however, did not worry me. It was nailed down. + +"Well, good-bye," she said. + +"_Au revoir_," I replied. "I am meeting Mortimer at six-thirty +tomorrow. You may expect us round at your house at about eight." + + * * * * * + +Mortimer was punctual at the tryst next morning. When I reached the +tenth tee he was already there. We exchanged a brief greeting and I +handed him a driver, outlined the essentials of grip and swing, and +bade him go to it. + +"It seems a simple game," he said, as he took his stance. "You're sure +it's fair to have the ball sitting up on top of a young sand-hill like +this?" + +"Perfectly fair." + +"I mean, I don't want to be coddled because I'm a beginner." + +"The ball is always teed up for the drive," I assured him. + +"Oh, well, if you say so. But it seems to me to take all the element of +sport out of the game. Where do I hit it?" + +"Oh, straight ahead." + +"But isn't it dangerous? I mean, suppose I smash a window in that house +over there?" + +He indicated a charming bijou residence some five hundred yards down +the fairway. + +"In that case," I replied, "the owner comes out in his pyjamas and +offers you the choice between some nuts and a cigar." + +He seemed reassured, and began to address the ball. Then he paused +again. + +"Isn't there something you say before you start?" he asked. "'Five', or +something?" + +"You may say 'Fore!' if it makes you feel any easier. But it isn't +necessary." + +"If I am going to learn this silly game," said Mortimer, firmly, "I am +going to learn it _right_. Fore!" + +I watched him curiously. I never put a club into the hand of a beginner +without something of the feeling of the sculptor who surveys a mass of +shapeless clay. I experience the emotions of a creator. Here, I say to +myself, is a semi-sentient being into whose soulless carcass I am +breathing life. A moment before, he was, though technically living, a +mere clod. A moment hence he will be a golfer. + +While I was still occupied with these meditations Mortimer swung at the +ball. The club, whizzing down, brushed the surface of the rubber +sphere, toppling it off the tee and propelling it six inches with a +slight slice on it. + +"Damnation!" said Mortimer, unravelling himself. + +I nodded approvingly. His drive had not been anything to write to the +golfing journals about, but he was picking up the technique of the +game. + +"What happened then?" + +I told him in a word. + +"Your stance was wrong, and your grip was wrong, and you moved your +head, and swayed your body, and took your eye off the ball, and +pressed, and forgot to use your wrists, and swung back too fast, and +let the hands get ahead of the club, and lost your balance, and omitted +to pivot on the ball of the left foot, and bent your right knee." + +He was silent for a moment. + +"There is more in this pastime," he said, "than the casual observer +would suspect." + +I have noticed, and I suppose other people have noticed, that in the +golf education of every man there is a definite point at which he may +be said to have crossed the dividing line--the Rubicon, as it +were--that separates the golfer from the non-golfer. This moment comes +immediately after his first good drive. In the ninety minutes in which +I instructed Mortimer Sturgis that morning in the rudiments of the +game, he made every variety of drive known to science; but it was not +till we were about to leave that he made a good one. + +A moment before he had surveyed his blistered hands with sombre +disgust. + +"It's no good," he said. "I shall never learn this beast of a game. And +I don't want to either. It's only fit for lunatics. Where's the sense +in it? Hitting a rotten little ball with a stick! If I want exercise, +I'll take a stick and go and rattle it along the railings. There's +something _in_ that! Well, let's be getting along. No good wasting +the whole morning out here." + +"Try one more drive, and then we'll go." + +"All right. If you like. No sense in it, though." + +He teed up the ball, took a careless stance, and flicked moodily. There +was a sharp crack, the ball shot off the tee, flew a hundred yards in a +dead straight line never ten feet above the ground, soared another +seventy yards in a graceful arc, struck the turf, rolled, and came to +rest within easy mashie distance of the green. + +"Splendid!" I cried. + +The man seemed stunned. + +"How did that happen?" + +I told him very simply. + +"Your stance was right, and your grip was right, and you kept your head +still, and didn't sway your body, and never took your eye off the ball, +and slowed back, and let the arms come well through, and rolled the +wrists, and let the club-head lead, and kept your balance, and pivoted +on the ball of the left foot, and didn't duck the right knee." + +"I see," he said. "Yes, I thought that must be it." + +"Now let's go home." + +"Wait a minute. I just want to remember what I did while it's fresh in +my mind. Let me see, this was the way I stood. Or was it more like +this? No, like this." He turned to me, beaming. "What a great idea it +was, my taking up golf! It's all nonsense what you read in the comic +papers about people foozling all over the place and breaking clubs and +all that. You've only to exercise a little reasonable care. And what a +corking game it is! Nothing like it in the world! I wonder if Betty is +up yet. I must go round and show her how I did that drive. A perfect +swing, with every ounce of weight, wrist, and muscle behind it. I meant +to keep it a secret from the dear girl till I had really learned, but +of course I _have_ learned now. Let's go round and rout her out." + +He had given me my cue. I put my hand on his shoulder and spoke +sorrowfully. + +"Mortimer, my boy, I fear I have bad news for you." + +"Slow; back--keep the head---- What's that? Bad news?" + +"About Betty." + +"About Betty? What about her? Don't sway the body--keep the eye on +the----" + +"Prepare yourself for a shock, my boy. Yesterday afternoon Betty called +to see me. When she had gone I found that she had stolen my silver +matchbox." + +"Stolen your matchbox?" + +"Stolen my matchbox." + +"Oh, well, I dare say there were faults on both sides," said Mortimer. +"Tell me if I sway my body this time." + +"You don't grasp what I have said! Do you realize that Betty, the girl +you are going to marry, is a kleptomaniac?" + +"A kleptomaniac!" + +"That is the only possible explanation. Think what this means, my boy. +Think how you will feel every time your wife says she is going out to +do a little shopping! Think of yourself, left alone at home, watching +the clock, saying to yourself, 'Now she is lifting a pair of silk +stockings!' 'Now she is hiding gloves in her umbrella!' 'Just about +this moment she is getting away with a pearl necklace!'" + +"Would she do that?" + +"She would! She could not help herself. Or, rather, she could not +refrain from helping herself. How about it, my boy?" + +"It only draws us closer together," he said. + +I was touched, I own. My scheme had failed, but it had proved Mortimer +Sturgis to be of pure gold. He stood gazing down the fairway, wrapped +in thought. + +"By the way," he said, meditatively, "I wonder if the dear girl ever +goes to any of those sales--those auction-sales, you know, where you're +allowed to inspect the things the day before? They often have some +pretty decent vases." + +He broke off and fell into a reverie. + + * * * * * + +From this point onward Mortimer Sturgis proved the truth of what I said +to you about the perils of taking up golf at an advanced age. A +lifetime of observing my fellow-creatures has convinced me that Nature +intended us all to be golfers. In every human being the germ of golf is +implanted at birth, and suppression causes it to grow and grow till--it +may be at forty, fifty, sixty--it suddenly bursts its bonds and sweeps +over the victim like a tidal wave. The wise man, who begins to play in +childhood, is enabled to let the poison exude gradually from his +system, with no harmful results. But a man like Mortimer Sturgis, with +thirty-eight golfless years behind him, is swept off his feet. He is +carried away. He loses all sense of proportion. He is like the fly that +happens to be sitting on the wall of the dam just when the crack comes. + +Mortimer Sturgis gave himself up without a struggle to an orgy of golf +such as I have never witnessed in any man. Within two days of that +first lesson he had accumulated a collection of clubs large enough to +have enabled him to open a shop; and he went on buying them at the rate +of two and three a day. On Sundays, when it was impossible to buy +clubs, he was like a lost spirit. True, he would do his regular four +rounds on the day of rest, but he never felt happy. The thought, as he +sliced into the rough, that the patent wooden-faced cleek which he +intended to purchase next morning might have made all the difference, +completely spoiled his enjoyment. + +I remember him calling me up on the telephone at three o'clock one +morning to tell me that he had solved the problem of putting. He +intended in future, he said, to use a croquet mallet, and he wondered +that no one had ever thought of it before. The sound of his broken +groan when I informed him that croquet mallets were against the rules +haunted me for days. + +His golf library kept pace with his collection of clubs. He bought all +the standard works, subscribed to all the golfing papers, and, when he +came across a paragraph in a magazine to the effect that Mr. Hutchings, +an ex-amateur champion, did not begin to play till he was past forty, +and that his opponent in the final, Mr. S. H. Fry, had never held a club +till his thirty-fifth year, he had it engraved on vellum and framed and +hung up beside his shaving-mirror. + + * * * * * + +And Betty, meanwhile? She, poor child, stared down the years into a +bleak future, in which she saw herself parted for ever from the man she +loved, and the golf-widow of another for whom--even when he won a medal +for lowest net at a weekly handicap with a score of a hundred and three +minus twenty-four--she could feel nothing warmer than respect. Those +were dreary days for Betty. We three--she and I and Eddie Denton--often +talked over Mortimer's strange obsession. Denton said that, except that +Mortimer had not come out in pink spots, his symptoms were almost +identical with those of the dreaded _mongo-mongo_, the scourge of +the West African hinterland. Poor Denton! He had already booked his +passage for Africa, and spent hours looking in the atlas for good +deserts. + +In every fever of human affairs there comes at last the crisis. We may +emerge from it healed or we may plunge into still deeper depths of +soul-sickness; but always the crisis comes. I was privileged to be +present when it came in the affairs of Mortimer Sturgis and Betty +Weston. + +I had gone into the club-house one afternoon at an hour when it is +usually empty, and the first thing I saw, as I entered the main room, +which looks out on the ninth green, was Mortimer. He was grovelling on +the floor, and I confess that, when I caught sight of him, my heart +stood still. I feared that his reason, sapped by dissipation, had given +way. I knew that for weeks, day in and day out, the niblick had hardly +ever been out of his hand, and no constitution can stand that. + +He looked up as he heard my footstep. + +"Hallo," he said. "Can you see a ball anywhere?" + +"A ball?" I backed away, reaching for the door-handle. "My dear boy," I +said, soothingly, "you have made a mistake. Quite a natural mistake. +One anybody would have made. But, as a matter of fact, this is the +club-house. The links are outside there. Why not come away with me very +quietly and let us see if we can't find some balls on the links? If you +will wait here a moment, I will call up Doctor Smithson. He was telling +me only this morning that he wanted a good spell of ball-hunting to put +him in shape. You don't mind if he joins us?" + +"It was a Silver King with my initials on it," Mortimer went on, not +heeding me. "I got on the ninth green in eleven with a nice +mashie-niblick, but my approach-putt was a little too strong. It came +in through that window." + +I perceived for the first time that one of the windows facing the +course was broken, and my relief was great. I went down on my knees and +helped him in his search. We ran the ball to earth finally inside the +piano. + +"What's the local rule?" inquired Mortimer. "Must I play it where it +lies, or may I tee up and lose a stroke? If I have to play it where it +lies, I suppose a niblick would be the club?" + +It was at this moment that Betty came in. One glance at her pale, set +face told me that there was to be a scene, and I would have retired, +but that she was between me and the door. + +"Hallo, dear," said Mortimer, greeting her with a friendly waggle of +his niblick. "I'm bunkered in the piano. My approach-putt was a little +strong, and I over-ran the green." + +"Mortimer," said the girl, tensely, "I want to ask you one question." + +"Yes, dear? I wish, darling, you could have seen my drive at the eighth +just now. It was a pip!" + +Betty looked at him steadily. + +"Are we engaged," she said, "or are we not?" + +"Engaged? Oh, to be married? Why, of course. I tried the open stance +for a change, and----" + +"This morning you promised to take me for a ride. You never appeared. +Where were you?" + +"Just playing golf." + +"Golf! I'm sick of the very name!" + +A spasm shook Mortimer. + +"You mustn't let people hear you saying things like that!" he said. "I +somehow felt, the moment I began my up-swing, that everything was going +to be all right. I----" + +"I'll give you one more chance. Will you take me for a drive in your +car this evening?" + +"I can't." + +"Why not? What are you doing?" + +"Just playing golf!" + +"I'm tired of being neglected like this!" cried Betty, stamping her +foot. Poor girl, I saw her point of view. It was bad enough for her +being engaged to the wrong man, without having him treat her as a mere +acquaintance. Her conscience fighting with her love for Eddie Denton +had kept her true to Mortimer, and Mortimer accepted the sacrifice with +an absent-minded carelessness which would have been galling to any +girl. "We might just as well not be engaged at all. You never take me +anywhere." + +"I asked you to come with me to watch the Open Championship." + +"Why don't you ever take me to dances?" + +"I can't dance." + +"You could learn." + +"But I'm not sure if dancing is a good thing for a fellow's game. You +never hear of any first-class pro. dancing. James Braid doesn't dance." + +"Well, my mind's made up. Mortimer, you must choose between golf and +me." + +"But, darling, I went round in a hundred and one yesterday. You can't +expect a fellow to give up golf when he's at the top of his game." + +"Very well. I have nothing more to say. Our engagement is at an end." + +"Don't throw me over, Betty," pleaded Mortimer, and there was that in +his voice which cut me to the heart. "You'll make me so miserable. And, +when I'm miserable, I always slice my approach shots." + +Betty Weston drew herself up. Her face was hard. + +"Here is your ring!" she said, and swept from the room. + + * * * * * + +For a moment after she had gone Mortimer remained very still, looking +at the glistening circle in his hand. I stole across the room and +patted his shoulder. + +"Bear up, my boy, bear up!" I said. + +He looked at me piteously. + +"Stymied!" he muttered. + +"Be brave!" + +He went on, speaking as if to himself. + +"I had pictured--ah, how often I had pictured!--our little home! Hers +and mine. She sewing in her arm-chair, I practising putts on the +hearth-rug----" He choked. "While in the corner, little Harry Vardon +Sturgis played with little J. H. Taylor Sturgis. And round the +room--reading, busy with their childish tasks--little George Duncan +Sturgis, Abe Mitchell Sturgis, Harold Hilton Sturgis, Edward Ray +Sturgis, Horace Hutchinson Sturgis, and little James Braid Sturgis." + +"My boy! My boy!" I cried. + +"What's the matter?" + +"Weren't you giving yourself rather a large family?" + +He shook his head moodily. + +"Was I?" he said, dully. "I don't know. What's bogey?" + +There was a silence. + +"And yet----" he said, at last, in a low voice. He paused. An odd, +bright look had come into his eyes. He seemed suddenly to be himself +again, the old, happy Mortimer Sturgis I had known so well. "And yet," +he said, "who knows? Perhaps it is all for the best. They might all +have turned out tennis-players!" He raised his niblick again, his face +aglow. "Playing thirteen!" he said. "I think the game here would be to +chip out through the door and work round the club-house to the green, +don't you?" + + * * * * * + +Little remains to be told. Betty and Eddie have been happily married +for years. Mortimer's handicap is now down to eighteen, and he is +improving all the time. He was not present at the wedding, being +unavoidably detained by a medal tournament; but, if you turn up the +files and look at the list of presents, which were both numerous and +costly, you will see--somewhere in the middle of the column, the words: + + STURGIS, J. MORTIMER. + _Two dozen Silver King Golf-balls and one patent Sturgis + Aluminium Self-Adjusting, Self-Compensating Putting-Cleek._ + + + + +4 + +_Sundered Hearts_ + + +In the smoking-room of the club-house a cheerful fire was burning, and +the Oldest Member glanced from time to time out of the window into the +gathering dusk. Snow was falling lightly on the links. From where he +sat, the Oldest Member had a good view of the ninth green; and +presently, out of the greyness of the December evening, there appeared +over the brow of the hill a golf-ball. It trickled across the green, +and stopped within a yard of the hole. The Oldest Member nodded +approvingly. A good approach-shot. + +A young man in a tweed suit clambered on to the green, holed out with +easy confidence, and, shouldering his bag, made his way to the +club-house. A few moments later he entered the smoking-room, and +uttered an exclamation of rapture at the sight of the fire. + +"I'm frozen stiff!" + +He rang for a waiter and ordered a hot drink. The Oldest Member gave a +gracious assent to the suggestion that he should join him. + +"I like playing in winter," said the young man. "You get the course to +yourself, for the world is full of slackers who only turn out when the +weather suits them. I cannot understand where they get the nerve to +call themselves golfers." + +"Not everyone is as keen as you are, my boy," said the Sage, dipping +gratefully into his hot drink. "If they were, the world would be a +better place, and we should hear less of all this modern unrest." + +"I _am_ pretty keen," admitted the young man. + +"I have only encountered one man whom I could describe as keener. I +allude to Mortimer Sturgis." + +"The fellow who took up golf at thirty-eight and let the girl he was +engaged to marry go off with someone else because he hadn't the time to +combine golf with courtship? I remember. You were telling me about him +the other day." + +"There is a sequel to that story, if you would care to hear it," said +the Oldest Member. + +"You have the honour," said the young man. "Go ahead!" + + * * * * * + +Some people (began the Oldest Member) considered that Mortimer Sturgis +was too wrapped up in golf, and blamed him for it. I could never see +eye to eye with them. In the days of King Arthur nobody thought the +worse of a young knight if he suspended all his social and business +engagements in favour of a search for the Holy Grail. In the Middle +Ages a man could devote his whole life to the Crusades, and the public +fawned upon him. Why, then, blame the man of today for a zealous +attention to the modern equivalent, the Quest of Scratch! Mortimer +Sturgis never became a scratch player, but he did eventually get his +handicap down to nine, and I honour him for it. + +The story which I am about to tell begins in what might be called the +middle period of Sturgis's career. He had reached the stage when his +handicap was a wobbly twelve; and, as you are no doubt aware, it is +then that a man really begins to golf in the true sense of the word. +Mortimer's fondness for the game until then had been merely tepid +compared with what it became now. He had played a little before, but +now he really buckled to and got down to it. It was at this point, too, +that he began once more to entertain thoughts of marriage. A profound +statistician in this one department, he had discovered that practically +all the finest exponents of the art are married men; and the thought +that there might be something in the holy state which improved a man's +game, and that he was missing a good thing, troubled him a great deal. +Moreover, the paternal instinct had awakened in him. As he justly +pointed out, whether marriage improved your game or not, it was to Old +Tom Morris's marriage that the existence of young Tommy Morris, winner +of the British Open Championship four times in succession, could be +directly traced. In fact, at the age of forty-two, Mortimer Sturgis was +in just the frame of mind to take some nice girl aside and ask her to +become a step-mother to his eleven drivers, his baffy, his twenty-eight +putters, and the rest of the ninety-four clubs which he had accumulated +in the course of his golfing career. The sole stipulation, of course, +which he made when dreaming his daydreams was that the future Mrs. +Sturgis must be a golfer. I can still recall the horror in his face +when one girl, admirable in other respects, said that she had never +heard of Harry Vardon, and didn't he mean Dolly Vardon? She has since +proved an excellent wife and mother, but Mortimer Sturgis never spoke +to her again. + +With the coming of January, it was Mortimer's practice to leave England +and go to the South of France, where there was sunshine and crisp dry +turf. He pursued his usual custom this year. With his suit-case and his +ninety-four clubs he went off to Saint Brule, staying as he always did +at the Hotel Superbe, where they knew him, and treated with an amiable +tolerance his habit of practising chip-shots in his bedroom. On the +first evening, after breaking a statuette of the Infant Samuel in +Prayer, he dressed and went down to dinner. And the first thing he saw +was Her. + +Mortimer Sturgis, as you know, had been engaged before, but Betty +Weston had never inspired the tumultuous rush of emotion which the mere +sight of this girl had set loose in him. He told me later that just to +watch her holing out her soup gave him a sort of feeling you get when +your drive collides with a rock in the middle of a tangle of rough and +kicks back into the middle of the fairway. If golf had come late in +life to Mortimer Sturgis, love came later still, and just as the golf, +attacking him in middle life, had been some golf, so was the love +considerable love. Mortimer finished his dinner in a trance, which is +the best way to do it at some hotels, and then scoured the place for +someone who would introduce him. He found such a person eventually and +the meeting took place. + + * * * * * + +She was a small and rather fragile-looking girl, with big blue eyes and +a cloud of golden hair. She had a sweet expression, and her left wrist +was in a sling. She looked up at Mortimer as if she had at last found +something that amounted to something. I am inclined to think it was a +case of love at first sight on both sides. + +"Fine weather we're having," said Mortimer, who was a capital +conversationalist. + +"Yes," said the girl. + +"I like fine weather." + +"So do I." + +"There's something about fine weather!" + +"Yes." + +"It's--it's--well, fine weather's so much finer than weather that isn't +fine," said Mortimer. + +He looked at the girl a little anxiously, fearing he might be taking +her out of her depth, but she seemed to have followed his train of +thought perfectly. + +"Yes, isn't it?" she said. "It's so--so fine." + +"That's just what I meant," said Mortimer. "So fine. You've just hit +it." + +He was charmed. The combination of beauty with intelligence is so rare. + +"I see you've hurt your wrist," he went on, pointing to the sling. + +"Yes. I strained it a little playing in the championship." + +"The championship?" Mortimer was interested. "It's awfully rude of me," +he said, apologetically, "but I didn't catch your name just now." + +"My name is Somerset." + +Mortimer had been bending forward solicitously. He overbalanced and +nearly fell off his chair. The shock had been stunning. Even before he +had met and spoken to her, he had told himself that he loved this girl +with the stored-up love of a lifetime. And she was Mary Somerset! The +hotel lobby danced before Mortimer's eyes. + +The name will, of course, be familiar to you. In the early rounds of +the Ladies' Open Golf Championship of that year nobody had paid much +attention to Mary Somerset. She had survived her first two matches, but +her opponents had been nonentities like herself. And then, in the third +round, she had met and defeated the champion. From that point on, her +name was on everybody's lips. She became favourite. And she justified +the public confidence by sailing into the final and winning easily. And +here she was, talking to him like an ordinary person, and, if he could +read the message in her eyes, not altogether indifferent to his charms, +if you could call them that. + +"Golly!" said Mortimer, awed. + + * * * * * + +Their friendship ripened rapidly, as friendships do in the South of +France. In that favoured clime, you find the girl and Nature does the +rest. On the second morning of their acquaintance Mortimer invited her +to walk round the links with him and watch him play. He did it a little +diffidently, for his golf was not of the calibre that would be likely +to extort admiration from a champion. On the other hand, one should +never let slip the opportunity of acquiring wrinkles on the game, and +he thought that Miss Somerset, if she watched one or two of his shots, +might tell him just what he ought to do. And sure enough, the opening +arrived on the fourth hole, where Mortimer, after a drive which +surprised even himself, found his ball in a nasty cuppy lie. + +He turned to the girl. + +"What ought I to do here?" he asked. + +Miss Somerset looked at the ball. She seemed to be weighing the matter +in her mind. + +"Give it a good hard knock," she said. + +Mortimer knew what she meant. She was advocating a full iron. The only +trouble was that, when he tried anything more ambitious than a +half-swing, except off the tee, he almost invariably topped. However, +he could not fail this wonderful girl, so he swung well back and took a +chance. His enterprise was rewarded. The ball flew out of the +indentation in the turf as cleanly as though John Henry Taylor had been +behind it, and rolled, looking neither to left nor to right, straight +for the pin. A few moments later Mortimer Sturgis had holed out one +under bogey, and it was only the fear that, having known him for so +short a time, she might be startled and refuse him that kept him from +proposing then and there. This exhibition of golfing generalship on her +part had removed his last doubts. He knew that, if he lived for ever, +there could be no other girl in the world for him. With her at his +side, what might he not do? He might get his handicap down to six--to +three--to scratch--to plus something! Good heavens, why, even the +Amateur Championship was not outside the range of possibility. Mortimer +Sturgis shook his putter solemnly in the air, and vowed a silent vow +that he would win this pearl among women. + +Now, when a man feels like that, it is impossible to restrain him long. +For a week Mortimer Sturgis's soul sizzled within him: then he could +contain himself no longer. One night, at one of the informal dances at +the hotel, he drew the girl out on to the moonlit terrace. + +"Miss Somerset----" he began, stuttering with emotion like an +imperfectly-corked bottle of ginger-beer. "Miss Somerset--may I call +you Mary?" + +The girl looked at him with eyes that shone softly in the dim light. + +"Mary?" she repeated. "Why, of course, if you like----" + +"If I like!" cried Mortimer. "Don't you know that it is my dearest +wish? Don't you know that I would rather be permitted to call you Mary +than do the first hole at Muirfield in two? Oh, Mary, how I have longed +for this moment! I love you! I love you! Ever since I met you I have +known that you were the one girl in this vast world whom I would die to +win! Mary, will you be mine? Shall we go round together? Will you fix +up a match with me on the links of life which shall end only when the +Grim Reaper lays us both a stymie?" + +She drooped towards him. + +"Mortimer!" she murmured. + +He held out his arms, then drew back. His face had grown suddenly +tense, and there were lines of pain about his mouth. + +"Wait!" he said, in a strained voice. "Mary, I love you dearly, and +because I love you so dearly I cannot let you trust your sweet life to +me blindly. I have a confession to make, I am not--I have not always +been"--he paused--"a good man," he said, in a low voice. + +She started indignantly. + +"How can you say that? You are the best, the kindest, the bravest man I +have ever met! Who but a good man would have risked his life to save me +from drowning?" + +"Drowning?" Mortimer's voice seemed perplexed. "You? What do you mean?" + +"Have you forgotten the time when I fell in the sea last week, and you +jumped in with all your clothes on----" + +"Of course, yes," said Mortimer. "I remember now. It was the day I did +the long seventh in five. I got off a good tee-shot straight down the +fairway, took a baffy for my second, and---- But that is not the point. +It is sweet and generous of you to think so highly of what was the +merest commonplace act of ordinary politeness, but I must repeat, that +judged by the standards of your snowy purity, I am not a good man. I do +not come to you clean and spotless as a young girl should expect her +husband to come to her. Once, playing in a foursome, my ball fell in +some long grass. Nobody was near me. We had no caddies, and the others +were on the fairway. God knows----" His voice shook. "God knows I +struggled against the temptation. But I fell. I kicked the ball on to a +little bare mound, from which it was an easy task with a nice +half-mashie to reach the green for a snappy seven. Mary, there have +been times when, going round by myself, I have allowed myself ten-foot +putts on three holes in succession, simply in order to be able to say I +had done the course in under a hundred. Ah! you shrink from me! You are +disgusted!" + +"I'm not disgusted! And I don't shrink! I only shivered because it is +rather cold." + +"Then you can love me in spite of my past?" + +"Mortimer!" + +She fell into his arms. + +"My dearest," he said presently, "what a happy life ours will be. That +is, if you do not find that you have made a mistake." + +"A mistake!" she cried, scornfully. + +"Well, my handicap is twelve, you know, and not so darned twelve at +that. There are days when I play my second from the fairway of the next +hole but one, days when I couldn't putt into a coal-hole with +'Welcome!' written over it. And you are a Ladies' Open Champion. Still, +if you think it's all right----. Oh, Mary, you little know how I have +dreamed of some day marrying a really first-class golfer! Yes, that was +my vision--of walking up the aisle with some sweet plus two girl on my +arm. You shivered again. You are catching cold." + +"It is a little cold," said the girl. She spoke in a small voice. + +"Let me take you in, sweetheart," said Mortimer. "I'll just put you in +a comfortable chair with a nice cup of coffee, and then I think I +really must come out again and tramp about and think how perfectly +splendid everything is." + + * * * * * + +They were married a few weeks later, very quietly, in the little +village church of Saint Brule. The secretary of the local golf-club +acted as best man for Mortimer, and a girl from the hotel was the only +bridesmaid. The whole business was rather a disappointment to Mortimer, +who had planned out a somewhat florid ceremony at St. George's, Hanover +Square, with the Vicar of Tooting (a scratch player excellent at short +approach shots) officiating, and "The Voice That Breathed O'er St. +Andrews" boomed from the organ. He had even had the idea of copying the +military wedding and escorting his bride out of the church under an +arch of crossed cleeks. But she would have none of this pomp. She +insisted on a quiet wedding, and for the honeymoon trip preferred a +tour through Italy. Mortimer, who had wanted to go to Scotland to visit +the birthplace of James Braid, yielded amiably, for he loved her +dearly. But he did not think much of Italy. In Rome, the great +monuments of the past left him cold. Of the Temple of Vespasian, all he +thought was that it would be a devil of a place to be bunkered behind. +The Colosseum aroused a faint spark of interest in him, as he +speculated whether Abe Mitchell would use a full brassey to carry it. +In Florence, the view over the Tuscan Hills from the Torre Rosa, +Fiesole, over which his bride waxed enthusiastic, seemed to him merely +a nasty bit of rough which would take a deal of getting out if. + +And so, in the fullness of time, they came home to Mortimer's cosy +little house adjoining the links. + + * * * * * + +Mortimer was so busy polishing his ninety-four clubs on the evening of +their arrival that he failed to notice that his wife was preoccupied. A +less busy man would have perceived at a glance that she was distinctly +nervous. She started at sudden noises, and once, when he tried the +newest of his mashie-niblicks and broke one of the drawing-room +windows, she screamed sharply. In short her manner was strange, and, if +Edgar Allen Poe had put her into "The Fall Of the House of Usher", she +would have fitted it like the paper on the wall. She had the air of one +waiting tensely for the approach of some imminent doom. Mortimer, +humming gaily to himself as he sand-papered the blade of his +twenty-second putter, observed none of this. He was thinking of the +morrow's play. + +"Your wrist's quite well again now, darling, isn't it?" he said. + +"Yes. Yes, quite well." + +"Fine!" said Mortimer. "We'll breakfast early--say at half-past +seven--and then we'll be able to get in a couple of rounds before +lunch. A couple more in the afternoon will about see us through. One +doesn't want to over-golf oneself the first day." He swung the putter +joyfully. "How had we better play do you think? We might start with you +giving me a half." + +She did not speak. She was very pale. She clutched the arm of her chair +tightly till the knuckles showed white under the skin. + +To anybody but Mortimer her nervousness would have been even more +obvious on the following morning, as they reached the first tee. Her +eyes were dull and heavy, and she started when a grasshopper chirruped. +But Mortimer was too occupied with thinking how jolly it was having the +course to themselves to notice anything. + +He scooped some sand out of the box, and took a ball out of her bag. +His wedding present to her had been a brand-new golf-bag, six dozen +balls, and a full set of the most expensive clubs, all born in +Scotland. + +"Do you like a high tee?" he asked. + +"Oh, no," she replied, coming with a start out of her thoughts. +"Doctors say it's indigestible." + +Mortimer laughed merrily. + +"Deuced good!" he chuckled. "Is that your own or did you read it in a +comic paper? There you are!" He placed the ball on a little hill of +sand, and got up. "Now let's see some of that championship form of +yours!" + +She burst into tears. + +"My darling!" + +Mortimer ran to her and put his arms round her. She tried weakly to +push him away. + +"My angel! What is it?" + +She sobbed brokenly. Then, with an effort, she spoke. + +"Mortimer, I have deceived you!" + +"Deceived me?" + +"I have never played golf in my life! I don't even know how to hold the +caddie!" + +Mortimer's heart stood still. This sounded like the gibberings of an +unbalanced mind, and no man likes his wife to begin gibbering +immediately after the honeymoon. + +"My precious! You are not yourself!" + +"I am! That's the whole trouble! I'm myself and not the girl you +thought I was!" + +Mortimer stared at her, puzzled. He was thinking that it was a little +difficult and that, to work it out properly, he would need a pencil and +a bit of paper. + +"My name is not Mary!" + +"But you said it was." + +"I didn't. You asked if you could call me Mary, and I said you might, +because I loved you too much to deny your smallest whim. I was going on +to say that it wasn't my name, but you interrupted me." + +"Not Mary!" The horrid truth was coming home to Mortimer. "You were not +Mary Somerset?" + +"Mary is my cousin. My name is Mabel." + +"But you said you had sprained your wrist playing in the championship." + +"So I had. The mallet slipped in my hand." + +"The mallet!" Mortimer clutched at his forehead. "You didn't say 'the +mallet'?" + +"Yes, Mortimer! The mallet!" + +A faint blush of shame mantled her cheek, and into her blue eyes there +came a look of pain, but she faced him bravely. + +"I am the Ladies' Open Croquet Champion!" she whispered. + +Mortimer Sturgis cried aloud, a cry that was like the shriek of some +wounded animal. + +"Croquet!" He gulped, and stared at her with unseeing eyes. He was no +prude, but he had those decent prejudices of which no self-respecting +man can wholly rid himself, however broad-minded he may try to be. +"Croquet!" + +There was a long silence. The light breeze sang in the pines above +them. The grasshoppers chirrupped at their feet. + +She began to speak again in a low, monotonous voice. + +"I blame myself! I should have told you before, while there was yet +time for you to withdraw. I should have confessed this to you that +night on the terrace in the moonlight. But you swept me off my feet, +and I was in your arms before I realized what you would think of me. It +was only then that I understood what my supposed skill at golf meant to +you, and then it was too late. I loved you too much to let you go! I +could not bear the thought of you recoiling from me. Oh, I was +mad--mad! I knew that I could not keep up the deception for ever, that +you must find me out in time. But I had a wild hope that by then we +should be so close to one another that you might find it in your heart +to forgive. But I was wrong. I see it now. There are some things that +no man can forgive. Some things," she repeated, dully, "which no man +can forgive." + +She turned away. Mortimer awoke from his trance. + +"Stop!" he cried. "Don't go!" + +"I must go." + +"I want to talk this over." + +She shook her head sadly and started to walk slowly across the sunlit +grass. Mortimer watched her, his brain in a whirl of chaotic thoughts. +She disappeared through the trees. + +Mortimer sat down on the tee-box, and buried his face in his hands. For +a time he could think of nothing but the cruel blow he had received. +This was the end of those rainbow visions of himself and her going +through life side by side, she lovingly criticizing his stance and his +back-swing, he learning wisdom from her. A croquet-player! He was +married to a woman who hit coloured balls through hoops. Mortimer +Sturgis writhed in torment. A strong man's agony. + +The mood passed. How long it had lasted, he did not know. But suddenly, +as he sat there, he became once more aware of the glow of the sunshine +and the singing of the birds. It was as if a shadow had lifted. Hope +and optimism crept into his heart. + +He loved her. He loved her still. She was part of him, and nothing that +she could do had power to alter that. She had deceived him, yes. But +why had she deceived him? Because she loved him so much that she could +not bear to lose him. Dash it all, it was a bit of a compliment. + +And, after all, poor girl, was it her fault? Was it not rather the +fault of her upbringing? Probably she had been taught to play croquet +when a mere child, hardly able to distinguish right from wrong. No +steps had been taken to eradicate the virus from her system, and the +thing had become chronic. Could she be blamed? Was she not more to be +pitied than censured? + +Mortimer rose to his feet, his heart swelling with generous +forgiveness. The black horror had passed from him. The future seemed +once more bright. It was not too late. She was still young, many years +younger than he himself had been when he took up golf, and surely, if +she put herself into the hands of a good specialist and practised every +day, she might still hope to become a fair player. He reached the house +and ran in, calling her name. + +No answer came. He sped from room to room, but all were empty. + +She had gone. The house was there. The furniture was there. The canary +sang in its cage, the cook in the kitchen. The pictures still hung on +the walls. But she had gone. Everything was at home except his wife. + +Finally, propped up against the cup he had once won in a handicap +competition, he saw a letter. With a sinking heart he tore open the +envelope. + +It was a pathetic, a tragic letter, the letter of a woman endeavouring +to express all the anguish of a torn heart with one of those +fountain-pens which suspend the flow of ink about twice in every three +words. The gist of it was that she felt she had wronged him; that, +though he might forgive, he could never forget; and that she was going +away, away out into the world alone. + +Mortimer sank into a chair, and stared blankly before him. She had +scratched the match. + + * * * * * + +I am not a married man myself, so have had no experience of how it +feels to have one's wife whizz off silently into the unknown; but I +should imagine that it must be something like taking a full swing with +a brassey and missing the ball. Something, I take it, of the same sense +of mingled shock, chagrin, and the feeling that nobody loves one, which +attacks a man in such circumstances, must come to the bereaved husband. +And one can readily understand how terribly the incident must have +shaken Mortimer Sturgis. I was away at the time, but I am told by those +who saw him that his game went all to pieces. + +He had never shown much indication of becoming anything in the nature +of a first-class golfer, but he had managed to acquire one or two +decent shots. His work with the light iron was not at all bad, and he +was a fairly steady putter. But now, under the shadow of this tragedy, +he dropped right back to the form of his earliest period. It was a +pitiful sight to see this gaunt, haggard man with the look of dumb +anguish behind his spectacles taking as many as three shots sometimes +to get past the ladies' tee. His slice, of which he had almost cured +himself, returned with such virulence that in the list of ordinary +hazards he had now to include the tee-box. And, when he was not +slicing, he was pulling. I have heard that he was known, when driving +at the sixth, to get bunkered in his own caddie, who had taken up his +position directly behind him. As for the deep sand-trap in front of the +seventh green, he spent so much of his time in it that there was some +informal talk among the members of the committee of charging him a +small weekly rent. + +A man of comfortable independent means, he lived during these days on +next to nothing. Golf-balls cost him a certain amount, but the bulk of +his income he spent in efforts to discover his wife's whereabouts. He +advertised in all the papers. He employed private detectives. He even, +much as it revolted his finer instincts, took to travelling about the +country, watching croquet matches. But she was never among the players. +I am not sure that he did not find a melancholy comfort in this, for it +seemed to show that, whatever his wife might be and whatever she might +be doing, she had not gone right under. + +Summer passed. Autumn came and went. Winter arrived. The days grew +bleak and chill, and an early fall of snow, heavier than had been known +at that time of the year for a long while, put an end to golf. Mortimer +spent his days indoors, staring gloomily through the window at the +white mantle that covered the earth. + +It was Christmas Eve. + + * * * * * + +The young man shifted uneasily on his seat. His face was long and +sombre. + +"All this is very depressing," he said. + +"These soul tragedies," agreed the Oldest Member, "are never very +cheery." + +"Look here," said the young man, firmly, "tell me one thing frankly, as +man to man. Did Mortimer find her dead in the snow, covered except for +her face, on which still lingered that faint, sweet smile which he +remembered so well? Because, if he did, I'm going home." + +"No, no," protested the Oldest Member. "Nothing of that kind." + +"You're sure? You aren't going to spring it on me suddenly?" + +"No, no!" + +The young man breathed a relieved sigh. + +"It was your saying that about the white mantle covering the earth that +made me suspicious." + +The Sage resumed. + + * * * * * + +It was Christmas Eve. All day the snow had been falling, and now it lay +thick and deep over the countryside. Mortimer Sturgis, his frugal +dinner concluded--what with losing his wife and not being able to get +any golf, he had little appetite these days--was sitting in his +drawing-room, moodily polishing the blade of his jigger. Soon wearying +of this once congenial task, he laid down the club and went to the +front door to see if there was any chance of a thaw. But no. It was +freezing. The snow, as he tested it with his shoe, crackled crisply. +The sky above was black and full of cold stars. It seemed to Mortimer +that the sooner he packed up and went to the South of France, the +better. He was just about to close the door, when suddenly he thought +he heard his own name called. + +"Mortimer!" + +Had he been mistaken? The voice had sounded faint and far away. + +"Mortimer!" + +He thrilled from head to foot. This time there could be no mistake. It +was the voice he knew so well, his wife's voice, and it had come from +somewhere down near the garden-gate. It is difficult to judge distance +where sounds are concerned, but Mortimer estimated that the voice had +spoken about a short mashie-niblick and an easy putt from where he +stood. + +The next moment he was racing down the snow-covered path. And then his +heart stood still. What was that dark something on the ground just +inside the gate? He leaped towards it. He passed his hands over it. It +was a human body. Quivering, he struck a match. It went out. He struck +another. That went out, too. He struck a third, and it burnt with a +steady flame; and, stooping, he saw that it was his wife who lay there, +cold and stiff. Her eyes were closed, and on her face still lingered +that faint, sweet smile which he remembered so well. + + * * * * * + +The young man rose with a set face. He reached for his golf-bag. + +"I call that a dirty trick," he said, "after you promised--" The Sage +waved him back to his seat. + +"Have no fear! She had only fainted." + +"You said she was cold." + +"Wouldn't you be cold if you were lying in the snow?" + +"And stiff." + +"Mrs. Sturgis was stiff because the train-service was bad, it being the +holiday-season, and she had had to walk all the way from the junction, +a distance of eight miles. Sit down and allow me to proceed." + + * * * * * + +Tenderly, reverently Mortimer Sturgis picked her up and began to bear +her into the house. Half-way there, his foot slipped on a piece of ice +and he fell heavily, barking his shin and shooting his lovely burden +out on to the snow. + +The fall brought her to. She opened her eyes. + +"Mortimer, darling!" she said. + +Mortimer had just been going to say something else, but he checked +himself. + +"Are you alive?" he asked. + +"Yes," she replied. + +"Thank God!" said Mortimer, scooping some of the snow out of the back +of his collar. + +Together they went into the house, and into the drawing-room. Wife +gazed at husband, husband at wife. There was a silence. + +"Rotten weather!" said Mortimer. + +"Yes, isn't it!" + +The spell was broken. They fell into each other's arms. And presently +they were sitting side by side on the sofa, holding hands, just as if +that awful parting had been but a dream. + +It was Mortimer who made the first reference to it. + +"I say, you know," he said, "you oughtn't to have nipped away like +that!" + +"I thought you hated me!" + +"Hated _you_! I love you better than life itself! I would sooner +have smashed my pet driver than have had you leave me!" + +She thrilled at the words. + +"Darling!" + +Mortimer fondled her hand. + +"I was just coming back to tell you that I loved you still. I was going +to suggest that you took lessons from some good professional. And I +found you gone!" + +"I wasn't worthy of you, Mortimer!" + +"My angel!" He pressed his lips to her hair, and spoke solemnly. "All +this has taught me a lesson, dearest. I knew all along, and I know it +more than ever now, that it is you--you that I want. Just you! I don't +care if you don't play golf. I don't care----" He hesitated, then went on +manfully. "I don't care even if you play croquet, so long as you are +with me!" + +For a moment her face showed rapture that made it almost angelic. She +uttered a low moan of ecstasy. She kissed him. Then she rose. + +"Mortimer, look!" + +"What at?" + +"Me. Just look!" + +The jigger which he had been polishing lay on a chair close by. She +took it up. From the bowl of golf-balls on the mantelpiece she selected +a brand new one. She placed it on the carpet. She addressed it. Then, +with a merry cry of "Fore!" she drove it hard and straight through the +glass of the china-cupboard. + +"Good God!" cried Mortimer, astounded. It had been a bird of a shot. + +She turned to him, her whole face alight with that beautiful smile. + +"When I left you, Mortie," she said, "I had but one aim in life, +somehow to make myself worthy of you. I saw your advertisements in the +papers, and I longed to answer them, but I was not ready. All this +long, weary while I have been in the village of Auchtermuchtie, in +Scotland, studying under Tamms McMickle." + +"Not the Tamms McMickle who finished fourth in the Open Championship of +1911, and had the best ball in the foursome in 1912 with Jock McHaggis, +Andy McHeather, and Sandy McHoots!" + +"Yes, Mortimer, the very same. Oh, it was difficult at first. I missed +my mallet, and long to steady the ball with my foot and use the toe of +the club. Wherever there was a direction post I aimed at it +automatically. But I conquered my weakness. I practised steadily. And +now Mr. McMickle says my handicap would be a good twenty-four on any +links." She smiled apologetically. "Of course, that doesn't sound much +to you! You were a twelve when I left you, and now I suppose you are +down to eight or something." + +Mortimer shook his head. + +"Alas, no!" he replied, gravely. "My game went right off for some +reason or other, and I'm twenty-four, too." + +"For some reason or other!" She uttered a cry. "Oh, I know what the +reason was! How can I ever forgive myself! I have ruined your game!" + +The brightness came back to Mortimer's eyes. He embraced her fondly. + +"Do not reproach yourself, dearest," he murmured. "It is the best thing +that could have happened. From now on, we start level, two hearts that +beat as one, two drivers that drive as one. I could not wish it +otherwise. By George! It's just like that thing of Tennyson's." + +He recited the lines softly: + + _My bride, + My wife, my life. Oh, we will walk the links + Yoked in all exercise of noble end, + And so thro' those dark bunkers off the course + That no man knows. Indeed, I love thee: come, + Yield thyself up: our handicaps are one; + Accomplish thou my manhood and thyself; + Lay thy sweet hands in mine and trust to me._ + +She laid her hands in his. + +"And now, Mortie, darling," she said, "I want to tell you all about how +I did the long twelfth at Auchtermuchtie in one under bogey." + + + + +5 + +_The Salvation of George Mackintosh_ + + +The young man came into the club-house. There was a frown on his +usually cheerful face, and he ordered a ginger-ale in the sort of voice +which an ancient Greek would have used when asking the executioner to +bring on the hemlock. + +Sunk in the recesses of his favourite settee the Oldest Member had +watched him with silent sympathy. + +"How did you get on?" he inquired. + +"He beat me." + +The Oldest Member nodded his venerable head. + +"You have had a trying time, if I am not mistaken. I feared as much +when I saw you go out with Pobsley. How many a young man have I seen go +out with Herbert Pobsley exulting in his youth, and crawl back at +eventide looking like a toad under the harrow! He talked?" + +"All the time, confound it! Put me right off my stroke." + +The Oldest Member sighed. + +"The talking golfer is undeniably the most pronounced pest of our +complex modern civilization," he said, "and the most difficult to deal +with. It is a melancholy thought that the noblest of games should have +produced such a scourge. I have frequently marked Herbert Pobsley in +action. As the crackling of thorns under a pot.... He is almost as bad +as poor George Mackintosh in his worst period. Did I ever tell you +about George Mackintosh?" + +"I don't think so." + +"His," said the Sage, "is the only case of golfing garrulity I have +ever known where a permanent cure was affected. If you would care to +hear about it----?" + + * * * * * + +George Mackintosh (said the Oldest Member), when I first knew him, was +one of the most admirable young fellows I have ever met. A handsome, +well-set-up man, with no vices except a tendency to use the mashie for +shots which should have been made with the light iron. And as for his +positive virtues, they were too numerous to mention. He never swayed +his body, moved his head, or pressed. He was always ready to utter a +tactful grunt when his opponent foozled. And when he himself achieved a +glaring fluke, his self-reproachful click of the tongue was music to +his adversary's bruised soul. But of all his virtues the one that most +endeared him to me and to all thinking men was the fact that, from the +start of a round to the finish, he never spoke a word except when +absolutely compelled to do so by the exigencies of the game. And it was +this man who subsequently, for a black period which lives in the memory +of all his contemporaries, was known as Gabby George and became a shade +less popular than the germ of Spanish Influenza. Truly, _corruptio +optimi pessima!_ + +One of the things that sadden a man as he grows older and reviews his +life is the reflection that his most devastating deeds were generally +the ones which he did with the best motives. The thought is +disheartening. I can honestly say that, when George Mackintosh came to +me and told me his troubles, my sole desire was to ameliorate his lot. +That I might be starting on the downward path a man whom I liked and +respected never once occurred to me. + +One night after dinner when George Mackintosh came in, I could see at +once that there was something on his mind, but what this could be I was +at a loss to imagine, for I had been playing with him myself all the +afternoon, and he had done an eighty-one and a seventy-nine. And, as I +had not left the links till dusk was beginning to fall, it was +practically impossible that he could have gone out again and done +badly. The idea of financial trouble seemed equally out of the +question. George had a good job with the old-established legal firm of +Peabody, Peabody, Peabody, Peabody, Cootes, Toots, and Peabody. The +third alternative, that he might be in love, I rejected at once. In all +the time I had known him I had never seen a sign that George Mackintosh +gave a thought to the opposite sex. + +Yet this, bizarre as it seemed, was the true solution. Scarcely had he +seated himself and lit a cigar when he blurted out his confession. + +"What would you do in a case like this?" he said. + +"Like what?" + +"Well----" He choked, and a rich blush permeated his surface. "Well, it +seems a silly thing to say and all that, but I'm in love with Miss +Tennant, you know!" + +"You are in love with Celia Tennant?" + +"Of course I am. I've got eyes, haven't I? Who else is there that any +sane man could possibly be in love with? That," he went on, moodily, +"is the whole trouble. There's a field of about twenty-nine, and I +should think my place in the betting is about thirty-three to one." + +"I cannot agree with you there," I said. "You have every advantage, it +appears to me. You are young, amiable, good-looking, comfortably off, +scratch----" + +"But I can't talk, confound it!" he burst out. "And how is a man to get +anywhere at this sort of game without talking?" + +"You are talking perfectly fluently now." + +"Yes, to you. But put me in front of Celia Tennant, and I simply make a +sort of gurgling noise like a sheep with the botts. It kills my chances +stone dead. You know these other men. I can give Claude Mainwaring a +third and beat him. I can give Eustace Brinkley a stroke a hole and +simply trample on his corpse. But when it comes to talking to a girl, +I'm not in their class." + +"You must not be diffident." + +"But I _am_ diffident. What's the good of saying I mustn't be +diffident when I'm the man who wrote the words and music, when +Diffidence is my middle name and my telegraphic address? I can't help +being diffident." + +"Surely you could overcome it?" + +"But how? It was in the hope that you might be able to suggest +something that I came round tonight." + +And this was where I did the fatal thing. It happened that, just before +I took up "Braid on the Push-Shot," I had been dipping into the current +number of a magazine, and one of the advertisements, I chanced to +remember, might have been framed with a special eye to George's +unfortunate case. It was that one, which I have no doubt you have seen, +which treats of "How to Become a Convincing Talker". I picked up this +magazine now and handed it to George. + +He studied it for a few minutes in thoughtful silence. He looked at the +picture of the Man who had taken the course being fawned upon by lovely +women, while the man who had let this opportunity slip stood outside +the group gazing with a wistful envy. + +"They never do that to me," said George. + +"Do what, my boy?" + +"Cluster round, clinging cooingly." + +"I gather from the letterpress that they will if you write for the +booklet." + +"You think there is really something in it?" + +"I see no reason why eloquence should not be taught by mail. One seems +to be able to acquire every other desirable quality in that manner +nowadays." + +"I might try it. After all, it's not expensive. There's no doubt about +it," he murmured, returning to his perusal, "that fellow does look +popular. Of course, the evening dress may have something to do with +it." + +"Not at all. The other man, you will notice, is also wearing evening +dress, and yet he is merely among those on the outskirts. It is simply +a question of writing for the booklet." + +"Sent post free." + +"Sent, as you say, post free." + +"I've a good mind to try it." + +"I see no reason why you should not." + +"I will, by Duncan!" He tore the page out of the magazine and put it in +his pocket. "I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give this thing a trial +for a week or two, and at the end of that time I'll go to the boss and +see how he reacts when I ask for a rise of salary. If he crawls, it'll +show there's something in this. If he flings me out, it will prove the +thing's no good." + +We left it at that, and I am bound to say--owing, no doubt, to my not +having written for the booklet of the Memory Training Course advertised +on the adjoining page of the magazine--the matter slipped from my mind. +When, therefore, a few weeks later, I received a telegram from young +Mackintosh which ran: + + _Worked like magic,_ + +I confess I was intensely puzzled. It was only a quarter of an hour +before George himself arrived that I solved the problem of its meaning. + +"So the boss crawled?" I said, as he came in. + +He gave a light, confident laugh. I had not seen him, as I say, for +some time, and I was struck by the alteration in his appearance. In +what exactly this alteration consisted I could not at first have said; +but gradually it began to impress itself on me that his eye was +brighter, his jaw squarer, his carriage a trifle more upright than it +had been. But it was his eye that struck me most forcibly. The George +Mackintosh I had known had had a pleasing gaze, but, though frank and +agreeable, it had never been more dynamic than a fried egg. This new +George had an eye that was a combination of a gimlet and a searchlight. +Coleridge's Ancient Mariner, I imagine, must have been somewhat +similarly equipped. The Ancient Mariner stopped a wedding guest on his +way to a wedding; George Mackintosh gave me the impression that he +could have stopped the Cornish Riviera express on its way to Penzance. +Self-confidence--aye, and more than self-confidence--a sort of sinful, +overbearing swank seemed to exude from his very pores. + +"Crawled?" he said. "Well, he didn't actually lick my boots, because I +saw him coming and side-stepped; but he did everything short of that. I +hadn't been talking an hour when----" + +"An hour!" I gasped. "Did you talk for an hour?" + +"Certainly. You wouldn't have had me be abrupt, would you? I went into +his private office and found him alone. I think at first he would have +been just as well pleased if I had retired. In fact, he said as much. +But I soon adjusted that outlook. I took a seat and a cigarette, and +then I started to sketch out for him the history of my connection with +the firm. He began to wilt before the end of the first ten minutes. At +the quarter of an hour mark he was looking at me like a lost dog that's +just found its owner. By the half-hour he was making little bleating +noises and massaging my coat-sleeve. And when, after perhaps an hour +and a half, I came to my peroration and suggested a rise, he choked +back a sob, gave me double what I had asked, and invited me to dine at +his club next Tuesday. I'm a little sorry now I cut the thing so short. +A few minutes more, and I fancy he would have given me his +sock-suspenders and made over his life-insurance in my favour." + +"Well," I said, as soon as I could speak, for I was finding my young +friend a trifle overpowering, "this is most satisfactory." + +"So-so," said George. "Not un-so-so. A man wants an addition to his +income when he is going to get married." + +"Ah!" I said. "That, of course, will be the real test." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Why, when you propose to Celia Tennant. You remember you were saying +when we spoke of this before--" + +"Oh, that!" said George, carelessly. "I've arranged all that." + +"What!" + +"Oh, yes. On my way up from the station. I looked in on Celia about an +hour ago, and it's all settled." + +"Amazing!" + +"Well, I don't know. I just put the thing to her, and she seemed to see +it." + +"I congratulate you. So now, like Alexander, you have no more worlds to +conquer." + +"Well, I don't know so much about that," said George. "The way it looks to +me is that I'm just starting. This eloquence is a thing that rather grows +on one. You didn't hear about my after-dinner speech at the anniversary +banquet of the firm, I suppose? My dear fellow, a riot! A positive +stampede. Had 'em laughing and then crying and then laughing again and +then crying once more till six of 'em had to be led out and the rest down +with hiccoughs. Napkins waving ... three tables broken ... waiters in +hysterics. I tell you, I played on them as on a stringed instrument...." + +"Can you play on a stringed instrument?" + +"As it happens, no. But as I would have played on a stringed instrument +if I could play on a stringed instrument. Wonderful sense of power it +gives you. I mean to go in pretty largely for that sort of thing in +future." + +"You must not let it interfere with your golf." + +He gave a laugh which turned my blood cold. + +"Golf!" he said. "After all, what is golf? Just pushing a small ball +into a hole. A child could do it. Indeed, children have done it with +great success. I see an infant of fourteen has just won some sort of +championship. Could that stripling convulse a roomful of banqueters? I +think not! To sway your fellow-men with a word, to hold them with a +gesture ... that is the real salt of life. I don't suppose I shall play +much more golf now. I'm making arrangements for a lecturing-tour, and +I'm booked up for fifteen lunches already." + +Those were his words. A man who had once done the lake-hole in one. A +man whom the committee were grooming for the amateur championship. I am +no weakling, but I confess they sent a chill shiver down my spine. + + * * * * * + +George Mackintosh did not, I am glad to say, carry out his mad project +to the letter. He did not altogether sever himself from golf. He was +still to be seen occasionally on the links. But now--and I know of +nothing more tragic that can befall a man--he found himself gradually +shunned, he who in the days of his sanity had been besieged with more +offers of games than he could manage to accept. Men simply would not +stand his incessant flow of talk. One by one they dropped off, until +the only person he could find to go round with him was old Major +Moseby, whose hearing completely petered out as long ago as the year +'98. And, of course, Celia Tennant would play with him occasionally; +but it seemed to me that even she, greatly as no doubt she loved him, +was beginning to crack under the strain. + +So surely had I read the pallor of her face and the wild look of dumb +agony in her eyes that I was not surprised when, as I sat one morning +in my garden reading Ray on Taking Turf, my man announced her name. I +had been half expecting her to come to me for advice and consolation, +for I had known her ever since she was a child. It was I who had given +her her first driver and taught her infant lips to lisp "Fore!" It is +not easy to lisp the word "Fore!" but I had taught her to do it, and +this constituted a bond between us which had been strengthened rather +than weakened by the passage of time. + +She sat down on the grass beside my chair, and looked up at my face in +silent pain. We had known each other so long that I know that it was +not my face that pained her, but rather some unspoken _malaise_ of +the soul. I waited for her to speak, and suddenly she burst out +impetuously as though she could hold back her sorrow no longer. + +"Oh, I can't stand it! I can't stand it!" + +"You mean...?" I said, though I knew only too well. + +"This horrible obsession of poor George's," she cried passionately. "I +don't think he has stopped talking once since we have been engaged." + +"He _is_ chatty," I agreed. "Has he told you the story about the +Irishman?" + +"Half a dozen times. And the one about the Swede oftener than that. But +I would not mind an occasional anecdote. Women have to learn to bear +anecdotes from the men they love. It is the curse of Eve. It is his +incessant easy flow of chatter on all topics that is undermining even +my devotion." + +"But surely, when he proposed to you, he must have given you an inkling +of the truth. He only hinted at it when he spoke to me, but I gather +that he was eloquent." + +"When he proposed," said Celia dreamily, "he was wonderful. He spoke +for twenty minutes without stopping. He said I was the essence of his +every hope, the tree on which the fruit of his life grew; his Present, +his Future, his Past ... oh, and all that sort of thing. If he would +only confine his conversation now to remarks of a similar nature, I +could listen to him all day long. But he doesn't. He talks politics and +statistics and philosophy and ... oh, and everything. He makes my head +ache." + +"And your heart also, I fear," I said gravely. + +"I love him!" she replied simply. "In spite of everything, I love him +dearly. But what to do? What to do? I have an awful fear that when we +are getting married instead of answering 'I will,' he will go into the +pulpit and deliver an address on Marriage Ceremonies of All Ages. The +world to him is a vast lecture-platform. He looks on life as one long +after-dinner, with himself as the principal speaker of the evening. It +is breaking my heart. I see him shunned by his former friends. Shunned! +They run a mile when they see him coming. The mere sound of his voice +outside the club-house is enough to send brave men diving for safety +beneath the sofas. Can you wonder that I am in despair? What have I to +live for?" + +"There is always golf." + +"Yes, there is always golf," she whispered bravely. + +"Come and have a round this afternoon." + +"I had promised to go for a walk ..." She shuddered, then pulled herself +together. "... for a walk with George." + +I hesitated for a moment. + +"Bring him along," I said, and patted her hand. "It may be that +together we shall find an opportunity of reasoning with him." + +She shook her head. + +"You can't reason with George. He never stops talking long enough to +give you time." + +"Nevertheless, there is no harm in trying. I have an idea that this +malady of his is not permanent and incurable. The very violence with +which the germ of loquacity has attacked him gives me hope. You must +remember that before this seizure he was rather a noticeably silent +man. Sometimes I think that it is just Nature's way of restoring the +average, and that soon the fever may burn itself out. Or it may be that +a sudden shock ... At any rate, have courage." + +"I will try to be brave." + +"Capital! At half-past two on the first tee, then." + +"You will have to give me a stroke on the third, ninth, twelfth, +fifteenth, sixteenth and eighteenth," she said, with a quaver in her +voice. "My golf has fallen off rather lately." + +I patted her hand again. + +"I understand," I said gently. "I understand." + + * * * * * + +The steady drone of a baritone voice as I alighted from my car and +approached the first tee told me that George had not forgotten the +tryst. He was sitting on the stone seat under the chestnut-tree, +speaking a few well-chosen words on the Labour Movement. + +"To what conclusion, then, do we come?" he was saying. "We come to the +foregone and inevitable conclusion that...." + +"Good afternoon, George," I said. + +He nodded briefly, but without verbal salutation. He seemed to regard +my remark as he would have regarded the unmannerly heckling of some one +at the back of the hall. He proceeded evenly with his speech, and was +still talking when Celia addressed her ball and drove off. Her drive, +coinciding with a sharp rhetorical question from George, wavered in +mid-air, and the ball trickled off into the rough half-way down the +hill. I can see the poor girl's tortured face even now. But she +breathed no word of reproach. Such is the miracle of women's love. + +"Where you went wrong there," said George, breaking off his remarks on +Labour, "was that you have not studied the dynamics of golf +sufficiently. You did not pivot properly. You allowed your left heel to +point down the course when you were at the top of your swing. This +makes for instability and loss of distance. The fundamental law of the +dynamics of golf is that the left foot shall be solidly on the ground +at the moment of impact. If you allow your heel to point down the +course, it is almost impossible to bring it back in time to make the +foot a solid fulcrum." + +I drove, and managed to clear the rough and reach the fairway. But it +was not one of my best drives. George Mackintosh, I confess, had +unnerved me. The feeling he gave me resembled the self-conscious panic +which I used to experience in my childhood when informed that there was +One Awful Eye that watched my every movement and saw my every act. It +was only the fact that poor Celia appeared even more affected by his +espionage that enabled me to win the first hole in seven. + +On the way to the second tee George discoursed on the beauties of +Nature, pointing out at considerable length how exquisitely the silver +glitter of the lake harmonized with the vivid emerald turf near the +hole and the duller green of the rough beyond it. As Celia teed up her +ball, he directed her attention to the golden glory of the sand-pit to +the left of the flag. It was not the spirit in which to approach the +lake-hole, and I was not surprised when the unfortunate girl's ball +fell with a sickening plop half-way across the water. + +"Where you went wrong there," said George, "was that you made the +stroke a sudden heave instead of a smooth, snappy flick of the wrists. +Pressing is always bad, but with the mashie----" + +"I think I will give you this hole," said Celia to me, for my shot had +cleared the water and was lying on the edge of the green. "I wish I +hadn't used a new ball." + +"The price of golf-balls," said George, as we started to round the +lake, "is a matter to which economists should give some attention. I am +credibly informed that rubber at the present time is exceptionally +cheap. Yet we see no decrease in the price of golf-balls, which, as I +need scarcely inform you, are rubber-cored. Why should this be so? You +will say that the wages of skilled labour have gone up. True. But----" + +"One moment, George, while I drive," I said. For we had now arrived at +the third tee. + +"A curious thing, concentration," said George, "and why certain +phenomena should prevent us from focusing our attention---- This brings +me to the vexed question of sleep. Why is it that we are able to sleep +through some vast convulsion of Nature when a dripping tap is enough to +keep us awake? I am told that there were people who slumbered +peacefully through the San Francisco earthquake, merely stirring +drowsily from time to time to tell an imaginary person to leave it on +the mat. Yet these same people----" + +Celia's drive bounded into the deep ravine which yawns some fifty yards +from the tee. A low moan escaped her. + +"Where you went wrong there----" said George. + +"I know," said Celia. "I lifted my head." + +I had never heard her speak so abruptly before. Her manner, in a girl +less noticeably pretty, might almost have been called snappish. George, +however, did not appear to have noticed anything amiss. He filled his +pipe and followed her into the ravine. + +"Remarkable," he said, "how fundamental a principle of golf is this +keeping the head still. You will hear professionals tell their pupils +to keep their eye on the ball. Keeping the eye on the ball is only a +secondary matter. What they really mean is that the head should be kept +rigid, as otherwise it is impossible to----" + +His voice died away. I had sliced my drive into the woods on the right, +and after playing another had gone off to try to find my ball, leaving +Celia and George in the ravine behind me. My last glimpse of them +showed me that her ball had fallen into a stone-studded cavity in the +side of the hill, and she was drawing her niblick from her bag as I +passed out of sight. George's voice, blurred by distance to a +monotonous murmur, followed me until I was out of earshot. + +I was just about to give up the hunt for my ball in despair, when I +heard Celia's voice calling to me from the edge of the undergrowth. +There was a sharp note in it which startled me. + +I came out, trailing a portion of some unknown shrub which had twined +itself about my ankle. + +"Yes?" I said, picking twigs out of my hair. + +"I want your advice," said Celia. + +"Certainly. What is the trouble? By the way," I said, looking round, +"where is your _fiance_?" + +"I have no _fiance_," she said, in a dull, hard voice. + +"You have broken off the engagement?" + +"Not exactly. And yet--well, I suppose it amounts to that." + +"I don't quite understand." + +"Well, the fact is," said Celia, in a burst of girlish frankness, "I +rather think I've killed George." + +"Killed him, eh?" + +It was a solution that had not occurred to me, but now that it was +presented for my inspection I could see its merits. In these days of +national effort, when we are all working together to try to make our +beloved land fit for heroes to live in, it was astonishing that nobody +before had thought of a simple, obvious thing like killing George +Mackintosh. George Mackintosh was undoubtedly better dead, but it had +taken a woman's intuition to see it. + +"I killed him with my niblick," said Celia. + +I nodded. If the thing was to be done at all, it was unquestionably a +niblick shot. + +"I had just made my eleventh attempt to get out of that ravine," the +girl went on, "with George talking all the time about the recent +excavations in Egypt, when suddenly--you know what it is when something +seems to snap----" + +"I had the experience with my shoe-lace only this morning." + +"Yes, it was like that. Sharp--sudden--happening all in a moment. I +suppose I must have said something, for George stopped talking about +Egypt and said that he was reminded by a remark of the last speaker's +of a certain Irishman-----" + +I pressed her hand. + +"Don't go on if it hurts you," I said, gently. + +"Well, there is very little more to tell. He bent his head to light his +pipe, and well--the temptation was too much for me. That's all." + +"You were quite right." + +"You really think so?" + +"I certainly do. A rather similar action, under far less provocation, +once made Jael the wife of Heber the most popular woman in Israel." + +"I wish I could think so too," she murmured. "At the moment, you know, +I was conscious of nothing but an awful elation. But--but--oh, he was +such a darling before he got this dreadful affliction. I can't help +thinking of G-George as he used to be." + +She burst into a torrent of sobs. + +"Would you care for me to view the remains?" I said. + +"Perhaps it would be as well." + +She led me silently into the ravine. George Mackintosh was lying on his +back where he had fallen. + +"There!" said Celia. + +And, as she spoke, George Mackintosh gave a kind of snorting groan and +sat up. Celia uttered a sharp shriek and sank on her knees before him. +George blinked once or twice and looked about him dazedly. + +"Save the women and children!" he cried. "I can swim." + +"Oh, George!" said Celia. + +"Feeling a little better?" I asked. + +"A little. How many people were hurt?" + +"Hurt?" + +"When the express ran into us." He cast another glance around him. +"Why, how did I get here?" + +"You were here all the time," I said. + +"Do you mean after the roof fell in or before?" + +Celia was crying quietly down the back of his neck. + +"Oh, George!" she said, again. + +He groped out feebly for her hand and patted it. + +"Brave little woman!" he said. "Brave little woman! She stuck by me all +through. Tell me--I am strong enough to bear it--what caused the +explosion?" + +It seemed to me a case where much unpleasant explanation might be +avoided by the exercise of a little tact. + +"Well, some say one thing and some another," I said. "Whether it was a +spark from a cigarette----" + +Celia interrupted me. The woman in her made her revolt against this +well-intentioned subterfuge. + +"I hit you, George!" + +"Hit me?" he repeated, curiously. "What with? The Eiffel Tower?" + +"With my niblick." + +"You hit me with your niblick? But why?" + +She hesitated. Then she faced him bravely. + +"Because you wouldn't stop talking." + +He gaped. + +"Me!" he said. "_I_ wouldn't stop talking! But I hardly talk at +all. I'm noted for it." + +Celia's eyes met mine in agonized inquiry. But I saw what had happened. +The blow, the sudden shock, had operated on George's brain-cells in +such a way as to effect a complete cure. I have not the technical +knowledge to be able to explain it, but the facts were plain. + +"Lately, my dear fellow," I assured him, "you have dropped into the +habit of talking rather a good deal. Ever since we started out this +afternoon you have kept up an incessant flow of conversation!" + +"Me! On the links! It isn't possible." + +"It is only too true, I fear. And that is why this brave girl hit you +with her niblick. You started to tell her a funny story just as she was +making her eleventh shot to get her ball out of this ravine, and she +took what she considered the necessary steps." + +"Can you ever forgive me, George?" cried Celia. + +George Mackintosh stared at me. Then a crimson blush mantled his face. + +"So I did! It's all beginning to come back to me. Oh, heavens!" + +"_Can_ you forgive me, George?" cried Celia again. + +He took her hand in his. + +"Forgive you?" he muttered. "Can _you_ forgive _me?_ Me--a +tee-talker, a green-gabbler, a prattler on the links, the lowest form +of life known to science! I am unclean, unclean!" + +"It's only a little mud, dearest," said Celia, looking at the sleeve of +his coat. "It will brush off when it's dry." + +"How can you link your lot with a man who talks when people are making +their shots?" + +"You will never do it again." + +"But I have done it. And you stuck to me all through! Oh, Celia!" + +"I loved you, George!" + +The man seemed to swell with a sudden emotion. His eye lit up, and he +thrust one hand into the breast of his coat while he raised the other +in a sweeping gesture. For an instant he appeared on the verge of a +flood of eloquence. And then, as if he had been made sharply aware of +what it was that he intended to do, he suddenly sagged. The gleam died +out of his eyes. He lowered his hand. + +"Well, I must say that was rather decent of you," he said. + +A lame speech, but one that brought an infinite joy to both his +hearers. For it showed that George Mackintosh was cured beyond +possibility of relapse. + +"Yes, I must say you are rather a corker," he added. + +"George!" cried Celia. + +I said nothing, but I clasped his hand; and then, taking my clubs, I +retired. When I looked round she was still in his arms. I left them +there, alone together in the great silence. + + * * * * * + +And so (concluded the Oldest Member) you see that a cure is possible, +though it needs a woman's gentle hand to bring it about. And how few +women are capable of doing what Celia Tennant did. Apart from the +difficulty of summoning up the necessary resolution, an act like hers +requires a straight eye and a pair of strong and supple wrists. It +seems to me that for the ordinary talking golfer there is no hope. And +the race seems to be getting more numerous every day. Yet the finest +golfers are always the least loquacious. It is related of the +illustrious Sandy McHoots that when, on the occasion of his winning the +British Open Championship, he was interviewed by reporters from the +leading daily papers as to his views on Tariff Reform, Bimetallism, the +Trial by Jury System, and the Modern Craze for Dancing, all they could +extract from him was the single word "Mphm!" Having uttered which, he +shouldered his bag and went home to tea. A great man. I wish there were +more like him. + + + + +6 + +_Ordeal By Golf_ + + +A pleasant breeze played among the trees on the terrace outside the +Marvis Bay Golf and Country Club. It ruffled the leaves and cooled the +forehead of the Oldest Member, who, as was his custom of a Saturday +afternoon, sat in the shade on a rocking-chair, observing the younger +generation as it hooked and sliced in the valley below. The eye of the +Oldest Member was thoughtful and reflective. When it looked into yours +you saw in it that perfect peace, that peace beyond understanding, +which comes at its maximum only to the man who has given up golf. + +The Oldest Member has not played golf since the rubber-cored ball +superseded the old dignified gutty. But as a spectator and philosopher +he still finds pleasure in the pastime. He is watching it now with keen +interest. His gaze, passing from the lemonade which he is sucking +through a straw, rests upon the Saturday foursome which is struggling +raggedly up the hill to the ninth green. Like all Saturday foursomes, +it is in difficulties. One of the patients is zigzagging about the +fairway like a liner pursued by submarines. Two others seem to be +digging for buried treasure, unless--it is too far off to be +certain--they are killing snakes. The remaining cripple, who has just +foozled a mashie-shot, is blaming his caddie. His voice, as he upbraids +the innocent child for breathing during his up-swing, comes clearly up +the hill. + +The Oldest Member sighs. His lemonade gives a sympathetic gurgle. He +puts it down on the table. + + * * * * * + +How few men, says the Oldest Member, possess the proper golfing +temperament! How few indeed, judging by the sights I see here on +Saturday afternoons, possess any qualification at all for golf except a +pair of baggy knickerbockers and enough money to enable them to pay for +the drinks at the end of the round. The ideal golfer never loses his +temper. When I played, I never lost my temper. Sometimes, it is true, I +may, after missing a shot, have broken my club across my knees; but I +did it in a calm and judicial spirit, because the club was obviously no +good and I was going to get another one anyway. To lose one's temper at +golf is foolish. It gets you nothing, not even relief. Imitate the +spirit of Marcus Aurelius. "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. For there can be no doubt +that the man was a golfer, and a bad golfer at that. Nobody who had not +had a short putt stop on the edge of the hole could possibly have +written the words: "That which makes the man no worse than he was makes +life no worse. It has no power to harm, without or within." Yes, Marcus +Aurelius undoubtedly played golf, and all the evidence seems to +indicate that he rarely went round in under a hundred and twenty. The +niblick was his club. + +Speaking of Marcus Aurelius and the golfing temperament recalls to my +mind the case of young Mitchell Holmes. Mitchell, when I knew him +first, was a promising young man with a future before him in the +Paterson Dyeing and Refining Company, of which my old friend, Alexander +Paterson, was the president. He had many engaging qualities--among them +an unquestioned ability to imitate a bulldog quarrelling with a +Pekingese in a way which had to be heard to be believed. It was a gift +which made him much in demand at social gatherings in the +neighbourhood, marking him off from other young men who could only +almost play the mandolin or recite bits of Gunga Din; and no doubt it +was this talent of his which first sowed the seeds of love in the heart +of Millicent Boyd. Women are essentially hero-worshippers, and when a +warm-hearted girl like Millicent has heard a personable young man +imitating a bulldog and a Pekingese to the applause of a crowded +drawing-room, and has been able to detect the exact point at which the +Pekingese leaves off and the bulldog begins, she can never feel quite +the same to other men. In short, Mitchell and Millicent were engaged, +and were only waiting to be married till the former could bite the +Dyeing and Refining Company's ear for a bit of extra salary. + +Mitchell Holmes had only one fault. He lost his temper when playing +golf. He seldom played a round without becoming piqued, peeved, or--in +many cases--chagrined. The caddies on our links, it was said, could +always worst other small boys in verbal argument by calling them some +of the things they had heard Mitchell call his ball on discovering it +in a cuppy lie. He had a great gift of language, and he used it +unsparingly. I will admit that there was some excuse for the man. He +had the makings of a brilliant golfer, but a combination of bad luck +and inconsistent play invariably robbed him of the fruits of his skill. +He was the sort of player who does the first two holes in one under +bogey and then takes an eleven at the third. The least thing upset him +on the links. He missed short putts because of the uproar of the +butterflies in the adjoining meadows. + +It seemed hardly likely that this one kink in an otherwise admirable +character would ever seriously affect his working or professional life, +but it did. One evening, as I was sitting in my garden, Alexander +Paterson was announced. A glance at his face told me that he had come +to ask my advice. Rightly or wrongly, he regarded me as one capable of +giving advice. It was I who had changed the whole current of his life +by counselling him to leave the wood in his bag and take a driving-iron +off the tee; and in one or two other matters, like the choice of a +putter (so much more important than the choice of a wife), I had been +of assistance to him. + +Alexander sat down and fanned himself with his hat, for the evening was +warm. Perplexity was written upon his fine face. + +"I don't know what to do," he said. + +"Keep the head still--slow back--don't press," I said, gravely. There +is no better rule for a happy and successful life. + +"It's nothing to do with golf this time," he said. "It's about the +treasurership of my company. Old Smithers retires next week, and I've +got to find a man to fill his place." + +"That should be easy. You have simply to select the most deserving from +among your other employees." + +"But which _is_ the most deserving? That's the point. There are +two men who are capable of holding the job quite adequately. But then I +realize how little I know of their real characters. It is the +treasurership, you understand, which has to be filled. Now, a man who +was quite good at another job might easily get wrong ideas into his +head when he became a treasurer. He would have the handling of large +sums of money. In other words, a man who in ordinary circumstances had +never been conscious of any desire to visit the more distant portions +of South America might feel the urge, so to speak, shortly after he +became a treasurer. That is my difficulty. Of course, one always takes +a sporting chance with any treasurer; but how am I to find out which of +these two men would give me the more reasonable opportunity of keeping +some of my money?" + +I did not hesitate a moment. I held strong views on the subject of +character-testing. + +"The only way," I said to Alexander, "of really finding out a man's +true character is to play golf with him. In no other walk of life does +the cloven hoof so quickly display itself. I employed a lawyer for +years, until one day I saw him kick his ball out of a heel-mark. I +removed my business from his charge next morning. He has not yet run +off with any trust-funds, but there is a nasty gleam in his eye, and I +am convinced that it is only a question of time. Golf, my dear fellow, +is the infallible test. The man who can go into a patch of rough alone, +with the knowledge that only God is watching him, and play his ball +where it lies, is the man who will serve you faithfully and well. The +man who can smile bravely when his putt is diverted by one of those +beastly wormcasts is pure gold right through. But the man who is hasty, +unbalanced, and violent on the links will display the same qualities in +the wider field of everyday life. You don't want an unbalanced +treasurer do you?" + +"Not if his books are likely to catch the complaint." + +"They are sure to. Statisticians estimate that the average of crime +among good golfers is lower than in any class of the community except +possibly bishops. Since Willie Park won the first championship at +Prestwick in the year 1860 there has, I believe, been no instance of an +Open Champion spending a day in prison. Whereas the bad golfers--and by +bad I do not mean incompetent, but black-souled--the men who fail to +count a stroke when they miss the globe; the men who never replace a +divot; the men who talk while their opponent is driving; and the men +who let their angry passions rise--these are in and out of Wormwood +Scrubbs all the time. They find it hardly worth while to get their hair +cut in their brief intervals of liberty." + +Alexander was visibly impressed. + +"That sounds sensible, by George!" he said. + +"It is sensible." + +"I'll do it! Honestly, I can't see any other way of deciding between +Holmes and Dixon." + +I started. + +"Holmes? Not Mitchell Holmes?" + +"Yes. Of course you must know him? He lives here, I believe." + +"And by Dixon do you mean Rupert Dixon?" + +"That's the man. Another neighbour of yours." + +I confess that my heart sank. It was as if my ball had fallen into the +pit which my niblick had digged. I wished heartily that I had thought +of waiting to ascertain the names of the two rivals before offering my +scheme. I was extremely fond of Mitchell Holmes and of the girl to whom +he was engaged to be married. Indeed, it was I who had sketched out a +few rough notes for the lad to use when proposing; and results had +shown that he had put my stuff across well. And I had listened many a +time with a sympathetic ear to his hopes in the matter of securing a +rise of salary which would enable him to get married. Somehow, when +Alexander was talking, it had not occurred to me that young Holmes +might be in the running for so important an office as the +treasurership. I had ruined the boy's chances. Ordeal by golf was the +one test which he could not possibly undergo with success. Only a +miracle could keep him from losing his temper, and I had expressly +warned Alexander against such a man. + +When I thought of his rival my heart sank still more. Rupert Dixon was +rather an unpleasant young man, but the worst of his enemies could not +accuse him of not possessing the golfing temperament. From the drive +off the tee to the holing of the final putt he was uniformly suave. + + * * * * * + +When Alexander had gone, I sat in thought for some time. I was faced +with a problem. Strictly speaking, no doubt, I had no right to take +sides; and, though secrecy had not been enjoined upon me in so many +words, I was very well aware that Alexander was under the impression +that I would keep the thing under my hat and not reveal to either party +the test that awaited him. Each candidate was, of course, to remain +ignorant that he was taking part in anything but a friendly game. + +But when I thought of the young couple whose future depended on this +ordeal, I hesitated no longer. I put on my hat and went round to Miss +Boyd's house, where I knew that Mitchell was to be found at this hour. + +The young couple were out in the porch, looking at the moon. They +greeted me heartily, but their heartiness had rather a tinny sound, and +I could see that on the whole they regarded me as one of those things +which should not happen. But when I told my story their attitude +changed. They began to look on me in the pleasanter light of a +guardian, philosopher, and friend. + +"Wherever did Mr. Paterson get such a silly idea?" said Miss Boyd, +indignantly. I had--from the best motives--concealed the source of the +scheme. "It's ridiculous!" + +"Oh, I don't know," said Mitchell. "The old boy's crazy about golf. +It's just the sort of scheme he would cook up. Well, it dishes +_me_!" + +"Oh, come!" I said. + +"It's no good saying 'Oh, come!' You know perfectly well that I'm a +frank, outspoken golfer. When my ball goes off nor'-nor'-east when I +want it to go due west I can't help expressing an opinion about it. It +is a curious phenomenon which calls for comment, and I give it. +Similarly, when I top my drive, I have to go on record as saying that I +did not do it intentionally. And it's just these trifles, as far as I +can make out, that are going to decide the thing." + +"Couldn't you learn to control yourself on the links, Mitchell, +darling?" asked Millicent. "After all, golf is only a game!" + +Mitchell's eyes met mine, and I have no doubt that mine showed just the +same look of horror which I saw in his. Women say these things without +thinking. It does not mean that there is any kink in their character. +They simply don't realize what they are saying. + +"Hush!" said Mitchell, huskily, patting her hand and overcoming his +emotion with a strong effort. "Hush, dearest!" + + * * * * * + +Two or three days later I met Millicent coming from the post-office. +There was a new light of happiness in her eyes, and her face was +glowing. + +"Such a splendid thing has happened," she said. "After Mitchell left +that night I happened to be glancing through a magazine, and I came +across a wonderful advertisement. It began by saying that all the great +men in history owed their success to being able to control themselves, +and that Napoleon wouldn't have amounted to anything if he had not +curbed his fiery nature, and then it said that we can all be like +Napoleon if we fill in the accompanying blank order-form for Professor +Orlando Rollitt's wonderful book, 'Are You Your Own Master?' absolutely +free for five days and then seven shillings, but you must write at once +because the demand is enormous and pretty soon it may be too late. I +wrote at once, and luckily I was in time, because Professor Rollitt did +have a copy left, and it's just arrived. I've been looking through it, +and it seems splendid." + +She held out a small volume. I glanced at it. There was a frontispiece +showing a signed photograph of Professor Orlando Rollitt controlling +himself in spite of having long white whiskers, and then some reading +matter, printed between wide margins. One look at the book told me the +professor's methods. To be brief, he had simply swiped Marcus +Aurelius's best stuff, the copyright having expired some two thousand +years ago, and was retailing it as his own. I did not mention this to +Millicent. It was no affair of mine. Presumably, however obscure the +necessity, Professor Rollitt had to live. + +"I'm going to start Mitchell on it today. Don't you think this is good? +'Thou seest how few be the things which if a man has at his command his +life flows gently on and is divine.' I think it will be wonderful if +Mitchell's life flows gently on and is divine for seven shillings, +don't you?" + + * * * * * + +At the club-house that evening I encountered Rupert Dixon. He was +emerging from a shower-bath, and looked as pleased with himself as +usual. + +"Just been going round with old Paterson," he said. "He was asking +after you. He's gone back to town in his car." + +I was thrilled. So the test had begun! + +"How did you come out?" I asked. + +Rupert Dixon smirked. A smirking man, wrapped in a bath towel, with a +wisp of wet hair over one eye, is a repellent sight. + +"Oh, pretty well. I won by six and five. In spite of having poisonous +luck." + +I felt a gleam of hope at these last words. + +"Oh, you had bad luck?" + +"The worst. I over-shot the green at the third with the best +brassey-shot I've ever made in my life--and that's saying a lot--and +lost my ball in the rough beyond it." + +"And I suppose you let yourself go, eh?" + +"Let myself go?" + +"I take it that you made some sort of demonstration?" + +"Oh, no. Losing your temper doesn't get you anywhere at golf. It only +spoils your next shot." + +I went away heavy-hearted. Dixon had plainly come through the ordeal as +well as any man could have done. I expected to hear every day that the +vacant treasurership had been filled, and that Mitchell had not even +been called upon to play his test round. I suppose, however, that +Alexander Paterson felt that it would be unfair to the other competitor +not to give him his chance, for the next I heard of the matter was when +Mitchell Holmes rang me up on the Friday and asked me if I would +accompany him round the links next day in the match he was playing with +Alexander, and give him my moral support. + +"I shall need it," he said. "I don't mind telling you I'm pretty +nervous. I wish I had had longer to get the stranglehold on that 'Are +You Your Own Master?' stuff. I can see, of course, that it is the real +tabasco from start to finish, and absolutely as mother makes it, but +the trouble is I've only had a few days to soak it into my system. It's +like trying to patch up a motor car with string. You never know when +the thing will break down. Heaven knows what will happen if I sink a +ball at the water-hole. And something seems to tell me I am going to do +it." + +There was a silence for a moment. + +"Do you believe in dreams?" asked Mitchell. + +"Believe in what?" + +"Dreams." + +"What about them?" + +"I said, 'Do you believe in dreams?' Because last night I dreamed that +I was playing in the final of the Open Championship, and I got into the +rough, and there was a cow there, and the cow looked at me in a sad +sort of way and said, 'Why don't you use the two-V grip instead of the +interlocking?' At the time it seemed an odd sort of thing to happen, +but I've been thinking it over and I wonder if there isn't something in +it. These things must be sent to us for a purpose." + +"You can't change your grip on the day of an important match." + +"I suppose not. The fact is, I'm a bit jumpy, or I wouldn't have +mentioned it. Oh, well! See you tomorrow at two." + + * * * * * + +The day was bright and sunny, but a tricky cross-wind was blowing when +I reached the club-house. Alexander Paterson was there, practising +swings on the first tee; and almost immediately Mitchell Holmes +arrived, accompanied by Millicent. + +"Perhaps," said Alexander, "we had better be getting under way. Shall I +take the honour?" + +"Certainly," said Mitchell. + +Alexander teed up his ball. + +Alexander Paterson has always been a careful rather than a dashing +player. It is his custom, a sort of ritual, to take two measured +practice-swings before addressing the ball, even on the putting-green. +When he does address the ball he shuffles his feet for a moment or two, +then pauses, and scans the horizon in a suspicious sort of way, as if +he had been expecting it to play some sort of a trick on him when he +was not looking. A careful inspection seems to convince him of the +horizon's _bona fides_, and he turns his attention to the ball +again. He shuffles his feet once more, then raises his club. He waggles +the club smartly over the ball three times, then lays it behind the +globule. At this point he suddenly peers at the horizon again, in the +apparent hope of catching it off its guard. This done, he raises his +club very slowly, brings it back very slowly till it almost touches the +ball, raises it again, brings it down again, raises it once more, and +brings it down for the third time. He then stands motionless, wrapped +in thought, like some Indian fakir contemplating the infinite. Then he +raises his club again and replaces it behind the ball. Finally he +quivers all over, swings very slowly back, and drives the ball for +about a hundred and fifty yards in a dead straight line. + +It is a method of procedure which proves sometimes a little +exasperating to the highly strung, and I watched Mitchell's face +anxiously to see how he was taking his first introduction to it. The +unhappy lad had blenched visibly. He turned to me with the air of one +in pain. + +"Does he always do that?" he whispered. + +"Always," I replied. + +"Then I'm done for! No human being could play golf against a one-ring +circus like that without blowing up!" + +I said nothing. It was, I feared, only too true. Well-poised as I am, I +had long since been compelled to give up playing with Alexander +Paterson, much as I esteemed him. It was a choice between that and +resigning from the Baptist Church. + +At this moment Millicent spoke. There was an open book in her hand. I +recognized it as the life-work of Professor Rollitt. + +"Think on this doctrine," she said, in her soft, modulated voice, "that +to be patient is a branch of justice, and that men sin without +intending it." + +Mitchell nodded briefly, and walked to the tee with a firm step. + +"Before you drive, darling," said Millicent, "remember this. Let no act +be done at haphazard, nor otherwise than according to the finished +rules that govern its kind." + +The next moment Mitchell's ball was shooting through the air, to come +to rest two hundred yards down the course. It was a magnificent drive. +He had followed the counsel of Marcus Aurelius to the letter. + +An admirable iron-shot put him in reasonable proximity to the pin, and +he holed out in one under bogey with one of the nicest putts I have +ever beheld. And when at the next hole, the dangerous water-hole, his +ball soared over the pond and lay safe, giving him bogey for the hole, +I began for the first time to breathe freely. Every golfer has his day, +and this was plainly Mitchell's. He was playing faultless golf. If he +could continue in this vein, his unfortunate failing would have no +chance to show itself. + +The third hole is long and tricky. You drive over a ravine--or possibly +into it. In the latter event you breathe a prayer and call for your +niblick. But, once over the ravine, there is nothing to disturb the +equanimity. Bogey is five, and a good drive, followed by a +brassey-shot, will put you within easy mashie-distance of the green. + +Mitchell cleared the ravine by a hundred and twenty yards. He strolled +back to me, and watched Alexander go through his ritual with an +indulgent smile. I knew just how he was feeling. Never does the world +seem so sweet and fair and the foibles of our fellow human beings so +little irritating as when we have just swatted the pill right on the +spot. + +"I can't see why he does it," said Mitchell, eyeing Alexander with a +toleration that almost amounted to affection. "If I did all those +Swedish exercises before I drove, I should forget what I had come out +for and go home." Alexander concluded the movements, and landed a bare +three yards on the other side of the ravine. "He's what you would call +a steady performer, isn't he? Never varies!" + +Mitchell won the hole comfortably. There was a jauntiness about his +stance on the fourth tee which made me a little uneasy. Over-confidence +at golf is almost as bad as timidity. + +My apprehensions were justified. Mitchell topped his ball. It rolled +twenty yards into the rough, and nestled under a dock-leaf. His mouth +opened, then closed with a snap. He came over to where Millicent and I +were standing. + +"I didn't say it!" he said. "What on earth happened then?" + +"Search men's governing principles," said Millicent, "and consider the +wise, what they shun and what they cleave to." + +"Exactly," I said. "You swayed your body." + +"And now I've got to go and look for that infernal ball." + +"Never mind, darling," said Millicent. "Nothing has such power to +broaden the mind as the ability to investigate systematically and truly +all that comes under thy observation in life." + +"Besides," I said, "you're three up." + +"I shan't be after this hole." + +He was right. Alexander won it in five, one above bogey, and regained +the honour. + +Mitchell was a trifle shaken. His play no longer had its first careless +vigour. He lost the next hole, halved the sixth, lost the short +seventh, and then, rallying, halved the eighth. + +The ninth hole, like so many on our links, can be a perfectly simple +four, although the rolling nature of the green makes bogey always a +somewhat doubtful feat; but, on the other hand, if you foozle your +drive, you can easily achieve double figures. The tee is on the farther +side of the pond, beyond the bridge, where the water narrows almost to +the dimensions of a brook. You drive across this water and over a +tangle of trees and under-growth on the other bank. The distance to the +fairway cannot be more than sixty yards, for the hazard is purely a +mental one, and yet how many fair hopes have been wrecked there! + +Alexander cleared the obstacles comfortably with his customary short, +straight drive, and Mitchell advanced to the tee. + +I think the loss of the honour had been preying on his mind. He seemed +nervous. His up-swing was shaky, and he swayed back perceptibly. He +made a lunge at the ball, sliced it, and it struck a tree on the other +side of the water and fell in the long grass. We crossed the bridge to +look for it; and it was here that the effect of Professor Rollitt began +definitely to wane. + +"Why on earth don't they mow this darned stuff?" demanded Mitchell, +querulously, as he beat about the grass with his niblick. + +"You have to have rough on a course," I ventured. + +"Whatever happens at all," said Millicent, "happens as it should. Thou +wilt find this true if thou shouldst watch narrowly." + +"That's all very well," said Mitchell, watching narrowly in a clump of +weeds but seeming unconvinced. "I believe the Greens Committee run this +bally club purely in the interests of the caddies. I believe they +encourage lost balls, and go halves with the little beasts when they +find them and sell them!" + +Millicent and I exchanged glances. There were tears in her eyes. + +"Oh, Mitchell! Remember Napoleon!" + +"Napoleon! What's Napoleon got to do with it? Napoleon never was +expected to drive through a primeval forest. Besides, what did Napoleon +ever do? Where did Napoleon get off, swanking round as if he amounted +to something? Poor fish! All he ever did was to get hammered at +Waterloo!" + +Alexander rejoined us. He had walked on to where his ball lay. + +"Can't find it, eh? Nasty bit of rough, this!" + +"No, I can't find it. But tomorrow some miserable, chinless, +half-witted reptile of a caddie with pop eyes and eight hundred and +thirty-seven pimples will find it, and will sell it to someone for +sixpence! No, it was a brand-new ball. He'll probably get a shilling +for it. That'll be sixpence for himself and sixpence for the Greens +Committee. No wonder they're buying cars quicker than the makers can +supply them. No wonder you see their wives going about in mink coats +and pearl necklaces. Oh, dash it! I'll drop another!" + +"In that case," Alexander pointed out, "you will, of course, under the +rules governing match-play, lose the hole." + +"All right, then. I'll give up the hole." + +"Then that, I think, makes me one up on the first nine," said +Alexander. "Excellent! A very pleasant, even game." + +"Pleasant! On second thoughts I don't believe the Greens Committee let +the wretched caddies get any of the loot. They hang round behind trees +till the deal's concluded, and then sneak out and choke it out of +them!" + +I saw Alexander raise his eyebrows. He walked up the hill to the next +tee with me. + +"Rather a quick-tempered young fellow, Holmes!" he said, thoughtfully. +"I should never have suspected it. It just shows how little one can +know of a man, only meeting him in business hours." + +I tried to defend the poor lad. + +"He has an excellent heart, Alexander. But the fact is--we are such old +friends that I know you will forgive my mentioning it--your style of +play gets, I fancy, a little on his nerves." + +"My style of play? What's wrong with my style of play?" + +"Nothing is actually wrong with it, but to a young and ardent spirit +there is apt to be something a trifle upsetting in being, compelled to +watch a man play quite so slowly as you do. Come now, Alexander, as one +friend to another, is it necessary to take two practice-swings before +you putt?" + +"Dear, dear!" said Alexander. "You really mean to say that that upsets +him? Well, I'm afraid I am too old to change my methods now." + +I had nothing more to say. + +As we reached the tenth tee, I saw that we were in for a few minutes' +wait. Suddenly I felt a hand on my arm. Millicent was standing beside +me, dejection written on her face. Alexander and young Mitchell were +some distance away from us. + +"Mitchell doesn't want me to come round the rest of the way with him," +she said, despondently. "He says I make him nervous." + +I shook my head. + +"That's bad! I was looking on you as a steadying influence." + +"I thought I was, too. But Mitchell says no. He says my being there +keeps him from concentrating." + +"Then perhaps it would be better for you to remain in the club-house +till we return. There is, I fear, dirty work ahead." + +A choking sob escaped the unhappy girl. + +"I'm afraid so. There is an apple tree near the thirteenth hole, and +Mitchell's caddie is sure to start eating apples. I am thinking of what +Mitchell will do when he hears the crunching when he is addressing his +ball." + +"That is true." + +"Our only hope," she said, holding out Professor Rollitt's book, "is +this. Will you please read him extracts when you see him getting +nervous? We went through the book last night and marked all the +passages in blue pencil which might prove helpful. You will see notes +against them in the margin, showing when each is supposed to be used." + +It was a small favour to ask. I took the book and gripped her hand +silently. Then I joined Alexander and Mitchell on the tenth tee. +Mitchell was still continuing his speculations regarding the Greens +Committee. + +"The hole after this one," he said, "used to be a short hole. There was +no chance of losing a ball. Then, one day, the wife of one of the +Greens Committee happened to mention that the baby needed new shoes, so +now they've tacked on another hundred and fifty yards to it. You have +to drive over the brow of a hill, and if you slice an eighth of an inch +you get into a sort of No Man's Land, full of rocks and bushes and +crevices and old pots and pans. The Greens Committee practically live +there in the summer. You see them prowling round in groups, encouraging +each other with merry cries as they fill their sacks. Well, I'm going +to fool them today. I'm going to drive an old ball which is just +hanging together by a thread. It'll come to pieces when they pick it +up!" + +Golf, however, is a curious game--a game of fluctuations. One might +have supposed that Mitchell, in such a frame of mind, would have +continued to come to grief. But at the beginning of the second nine he +once more found his form. A perfect drive put him in position to reach +the tenth green with an iron-shot, and, though the ball was several +yards from the hole, he laid it dead with his approach-putt and holed +his second for a bogey four. Alexander could only achieve a five, so +that they were all square again. + +The eleventh, the subject of Mitchell's recent criticism, is certainly +a tricky hole, and it is true that a slice does land the player in +grave difficulties. Today, however, both men kept their drives +straight, and found no difficulty in securing fours. + +"A little more of this," said Mitchell, beaming, "and the Greens +Committee will have to give up piracy and go back to work." + +The twelfth is a long, dog-leg hole, bogey five. Alexander plugged +steadily round the bend, holing out in six, and Mitchell, whose second +shot had landed him in some long grass, was obliged to use his niblick. +He contrived, however, to halve the hole with a nicely-judged +mashie-shot to the edge of the green. + +Alexander won the thirteenth. It is a three hundred and sixty yard +hole, free from bunkers. It took Alexander three strokes to reach the +green, but his third laid the ball dead; while Mitchell, who was on in +two, required three putts. + +"That reminds me," said Alexander, chattily, "of a story I heard. +Friend calls out to a beginner, 'How are you getting on, old man?' and +the beginner says, 'Splendidly. I just made three perfect putts on the +last green!'" + +Mitchell did not appear amused. I watched his face anxiously. He had +made no remark, but the missed putt which would have saved the hole had +been very short, and I feared the worst. There was a brooding look in +his eye as we walked to the fourteenth tee. + +There are few more picturesque spots in the whole of the countryside +than the neighbourhood of the fourteenth tee. It is a sight to charm +the nature-lover's heart. + +But, if golf has a defect, it is that it prevents a man being a +whole-hearted lover of nature. Where the layman sees waving grass and +romantic tangles of undergrowth, your golfer beholds nothing but a +nasty patch of rough from which he must divert his ball. The cry of the +birds, wheeling against the sky, is to the golfer merely something that +may put him off his putt. As a spectator, I am fond of the ravine at +the bottom of the slope. It pleases the eye. But, as a golfer, I have +frequently found it the very devil. + +The last hole had given Alexander the honour again. He drove even more +deliberately than before. For quite half a minute he stood over his +ball, pawing at it with his driving-iron like a cat investigating a +tortoise. Finally he despatched it to one of the few safe spots on the +hillside. The drive from this tee has to be carefully calculated, for, +if it be too straight, it will catch the slope and roll down into the +ravine. + +Mitchell addressed his ball. He swung up, and then, from immediately +behind him came a sudden sharp crunching sound. I looked quickly in the +direction whence it came. Mitchell's caddie, with a glassy look in his +eyes, was gnawing a large apple. And even as I breathed a silent +prayer, down came the driver, and the ball, with a terrible slice on +it, hit the side of the hill and bounded into the ravine. + +There was a pause--a pause in which the world stood still. Mitchell +dropped his club and turned. His face was working horribly. + +"Mitchell!" I cried. "My boy! Reflect! Be calm!" + +"Calm! What's the use of being calm when people are chewing apples in +thousands all round you? What _is_ this, anyway--a golf match or a +pleasant day's outing for the children of the poor? Apples! Go on, my +boy, take another bite. Take several. Enjoy yourself! Never mind if it +seems to cause me a fleeting annoyance. Go on with your lunch! You +probably had a light breakfast, eh, and are feeling a little peckish, +yes? If you will wait here, I will run to the clubhouse and get you a +sandwich and a bottle of ginger-ale. Make yourself quite at home, you +lovable little fellow! Sit down and have a good time!" + +I turned the pages of Professor Rollitt's book feverishly. I could not +find a passage that had been marked in blue pencil to meet this +emergency. I selected one at random. + +"Mitchell," I said, "one moment. How much time he gains who does not +look to see what his neighbour says or does, but only at what he does +himself, to make it just and holy." + +"Well, look what I've done myself! I'm somewhere down at the bottom of +that dashed ravine, and it'll take me a dozen strokes to get out. Do +you call that just and holy? Here, give me that book for a moment!" + +He snatched the little volume out of my hands. For an instant he looked +at it with a curious expression of loathing, then he placed it gently +on the ground and jumped on it a few times. Then he hit it with his +driver. Finally, as if feeling that the time for half measures had +passed, he took a little run and kicked it strongly into the long +grass. + +He turned to Alexander, who had been an impassive spectator of the +scene. + +"I'm through!" he said. "I concede the match. Good-bye. You'll find me +in the bay!" + +"Going swimming?" + +"No. Drowning myself." + +A gentle smile broke out over my old friend's usually grave face. He +patted Mitchell's shoulder affectionately. + +"Don't do that, my boy," he said. "I was hoping you would stick around +the office awhile as treasurer of the company." + +Mitchell tottered. He grasped my arm for support. Everything was very +still. Nothing broke the stillness but the humming of the bees, the +murmur of the distant wavelets, and the sound of Mitchell's caddie +going on with his apple. + +"What!" cried Mitchell. + +"The position," said Alexander, "will be falling vacant very shortly, +as no doubt you know. It is yours, if you care to accept it." + +"You mean--you mean--you're going to give me the job?" + +"You have interpreted me exactly." + +Mitchell gulped. So did his caddie. One from a spiritual, the other +from a physical cause. + +"If you don't mind excusing me," said Mitchell, huskily, "I think I'll +be popping back to the club-house. Someone I want to see." + +He disappeared through the trees, running strongly. I turned to +Alexander. + +"What does this mean?" I asked. "I am delighted, but what becomes of +the test?" + +My old friend smiled gently. + +"The test," he replied, "has been eminently satisfactory. +Circumstances, perhaps, have compelled me to modify the original idea +of it, but nevertheless it has been a completely successful test. Since +we started out, I have been doing a good deal of thinking, and I have +come to the conclusion that what the Paterson Dyeing and Refining +Company really needs is a treasurer whom I can beat at golf. And I have +discovered the ideal man. Why," he went on, a look of holy enthusiasm +on his fine old face, "do you realize that I can always lick the +stuffing out of that boy, good player as he is, simply by taking a +little trouble? I can make him get the wind up every time, simply by +taking one or two extra practice-swings! That is the sort of man I need +for a responsible post in my office." + +"But what about Rupert Dixon?" I asked. + +He gave a gesture of distaste. + +"I wouldn't trust that man. Why, when I played with him, everything +went wrong, and he just smiled and didn't say a word. A man who can do +that is not the man to trust with the control of large sums of money. +It wouldn't be safe. Why, the fellow isn't honest! He can't be." He +paused for a moment. "Besides," he added, thoughtfully, "he beat me by +six and five. What's the good of a treasurer who beats the boss by six +and five?" + + + + +7 + +_The Long Hole_ + + +The young man, as he sat filling his pipe in the club-house +smoking-room, was inclined to be bitter. + +"If there's one thing that gives me a pain squarely in the centre of +the gizzard," he burst out, breaking a silence that had lasted for some +minutes, "it's a golf-lawyer. They oughtn't to be allowed on the +links." + +The Oldest Member, who had been meditatively putting himself outside a +cup of tea and a slice of seed-cake, raised his white eyebrows. + +"The Law," he said, "is an honourable profession. Why should its +practitioners be restrained from indulgence in the game of games?" + +"I don't mean actual lawyers," said the young man, his acerbity +mellowing a trifle under the influence of tobacco. "I mean the +blighters whose best club is the book of rules. You know the sort of +excrescences. Every time you think you've won a hole, they dig out Rule +eight hundred and fifty-three, section two, sub-section four, to prove +that you've disqualified yourself by having an ingrowing toe-nail. +Well, take my case." The young man's voice was high and plaintive. "I +go out with that man Hemmingway to play an ordinary friendly +round--nothing depending on it except a measly ball--and on the seventh +he pulls me up and claims the hole simply because I happened to drop my +niblick in the bunker. Oh, well, a tick's a tick, and there's nothing +more to say, I suppose." + +The Sage shook his head. + +"Rules are rules, my boy, and must be kept. It is odd that you should +have brought up this subject, for only a moment before you came in I +was thinking of a somewhat curious match which ultimately turned upon a +question of the rule-book. It is true that, as far as the actual prize +was concerned, it made little difference. But perhaps I had better tell +you the whole story from the beginning." + +The young man shifted uneasily in his chair. + +"Well, you know, I've had a pretty rotten time this afternoon +already----" + +"I will call my story," said the Sage, tranquilly, "'The Long Hole', +for it involved the playing of what I am inclined to think must be the +longest hole in the history of golf. In its beginnings the story may +remind you of one I once told you about Peter Willard and James Todd, +but you will find that it develops in quite a different manner. Ralph +Bingham...." + +"I half promised to go and see a man----" + +"But I will begin at the beginning," said the Sage. "I see that you are +all impatience to hear the full details." + + * * * * * + +Ralph Bingham and Arthur Jukes (said the Oldest Member) had never been +friends--their rivalry was too keen to admit of that--but it was not +till Amanda Trivett came to stay here that a smouldering distaste for +each other burst out into the flames of actual enmity. It is ever so. +One of the poets, whose name I cannot recall, has a passage, which I am +unable at the moment to remember, in one of his works, which for the +time being has slipped my mind, which hits off admirably this age-old +situation. The gist of his remarks is that lovely woman rarely fails to +start something. In the weeks that followed her arrival, being in the +same room with the two men was like dropping in on a reunion of +Capulets and Montagues. + +You see, Ralph and Arthur were so exactly equal in their skill on the +links that life for them had for some time past resolved itself into a +silent, bitter struggle in which first one, then the other, gained some +slight advantage. If Ralph won the May medal by a stroke, Arthur would +be one ahead in the June competition, only to be nosed out again in +July. It was a state of affairs which, had they been men of a more +generous stamp, would have bred a mutual respect, esteem, and even +love. But I am sorry to say that, apart from their golf, which was in a +class of its own as far as this neighbourhood was concerned, Ralph +Bingham and Arthur Jukes were a sorry pair--and yet, mark you, far from +lacking in mere superficial good looks. They were handsome fellows, +both of them, and well aware of the fact; and when Amanda Trivett came +to stay they simply straightened their ties, twirled their moustaches, +and expected her to do the rest. + +But there they were disappointed. Perfectly friendly though she was to +both of them, the lovelight was conspicuously absent from her beautiful +eyes. And it was not long before each had come independently to a +solution of this mystery. It was plain to them that the whole trouble +lay in the fact that each neutralized the other's attractions. Arthur +felt that, if he could only have a clear field, all would be over +except the sending out of the wedding invitations; and Ralph was of the +opinion that, if he could just call on the girl one evening without +finding the place all littered up with Arthur, his natural charms would +swiftly bring home the bacon. And, indeed, it was true that they had no +rivals except themselves. It happened at the moment that Woodhaven was +very short of eligible bachelors. We marry young in this delightful +spot, and all the likely men were already paired off. It seemed that, +if Amanda Trivett intended to get married, she would have to select +either Ralph Bingham or Arthur Jukes. A dreadful choice. + + * * * * * + +It had not occurred to me at the outset that my position in the affair +would be anything closer than that of a detached and mildly interested +spectator. Yet it was to me that Ralph came in his hour of need. When I +returned home one evening, I found that my man had brought him in and +laid him on the mat in my sitting-room. + +I offered him a chair and a cigar, and he came to the point with +commendable rapidity. + +"Leigh," he said, directly he had lighted his cigar, "is too small for +Arthur Jukes and myself." + +"Ah, you have been talking it over and decided to move?" I said, +delighted. "I think you are perfectly right. Leigh _is_ over-built. +Men like you and Jukes need a lot of space. Where do you think of +going?" + +"I'm not going." + +"But I thought you said----" + +"What I meant was that the time has come when one of us must leave." + +"Oh, only one of you?" It was something, of course, but I confess I was +disappointed, and I think my disappointment must have shown in my +voice; for he looked at me, surprised. + +"Surely you wouldn't mind Jukes going?" he said. + +"Why, certainly not. He really is going, is he?" + +A look of saturnine determination came into Ralph's face. + +"He is. He thinks he isn't, but he is." + +I failed to understand him, and said so. He looked cautiously about the +room, as if to reassure himself that he could not be overheard. + +"I suppose you've noticed," he said, "the disgusting way that man Jukes +has been hanging round Miss Trivett, boring her to death?" + +"I have seen them together sometimes." + +"I love Amanda Trivett!" said Ralph. + +"Poor girl!" I sighed. + +"I beg your pardon?" + +"Poor girl!" I said. "I mean, to have Arthur Jukes hanging round her." + +"That's just what I think," said Ralph Bingham. "And that's why we're +going to play this match." + +"What match?" + +"This match we've decided to play. I want you to act as one of the +judges, to go along with Jukes and see that he doesn't play any of his +tricks. You know what he is! And in a vital match like this----" + +"How much are you playing for?" + +"The whole world!" + +"I beg your pardon?" + +"The whole world. It amounts to that. The loser is to leave Leigh for +good, and the winner stays on and marries Amanda Trivett. We have +arranged all the details. Rupert Bailey will accompany me, acting as +the other judge." + +"And you want me to go round with Jukes?" + +"Not round," said Ralph Bingham. "Along." + +"What is the distinction?" + +"We are not going to play a round. Only one hole." + +"Sudden death, eh?" + +"Not so very sudden. It's a longish hole. We start on the first tee +here and hole out in the town in the doorway of the Majestic Hotel in +Royal Square. A distance, I imagine, of about sixteen miles." + +I was revolted. About that time a perfect epidemic of freak matches had +broken out in the club, and I had strongly opposed them from the start. +George Willis had begun it by playing a medal round with the pro., +George's first nine against the pro.'s complete eighteen. After that +came the contest between Herbert Widgeon and Montague Brown, the +latter, a twenty-four handicap man, being entitled to shout "Boo!" +three times during the round at moments selected by himself. There had +been many more of these degrading travesties on the sacred game, and I +had writhed to see them. Playing freak golf-matches is to my mind like +ragging a great classical melody. But of the whole collection this one, +considering the sentimental interest and the magnitude of the stakes, +seemed to me the most terrible. My face, I imagine, betrayed my +disgust, for Bingham attempted extenuation. + +"It's the only way," he said. "You know how Jukes and I are on the +links. We are as level as two men can be. This, of course is due to his +extraordinary luck. Everybody knows that he is the world's champion +fluker. I, on the other hand, invariably have the worst luck. The +consequence is that in an ordinary round it is always a toss-up which +of us wins. The test we propose will eliminate luck. After sixteen +miles of give-and-take play, I am certain--that is to say, the better +man is certain to be ahead. That is what I meant when I said that +Arthur Jukes would shortly be leaving Leigh. Well, may I take it that +you will consent to act as one of the judges?" + +I considered. After all, the match was likely to be historic, and one +always feels tempted to hand one's name down to posterity. + +"Very well," I said. + +"Excellent. You will have to keep a sharp eye on Jukes, I need scarcely +remind you. You will, of course, carry a book of the rules in your +pocket and refer to them when you wish to refresh your memory. We start +at daybreak, for, if we put it off till later, the course at the other +end might be somewhat congested when we reached it. We want to avoid +publicity as far as possible. If I took a full iron and hit a +policeman, it would excite a remark." + +"It would. I can tell you the exact remark which it would excite." + +"We will take bicycles with us, to minimize the fatigue of covering the +distance. Well, I am glad that we have your co-operation. At daybreak +tomorrow on the first tee, and don't forget to bring your rule-book." + + * * * * * + +The atmosphere brooding over the first tee when I reached it on the +following morning, somewhat resembled that of a duelling-ground in the +days when these affairs were sealed with rapiers or pistols. Rupert +Bailey, an old friend of mine, was the only cheerful member of the +party. I am never at my best in the early morning, and the two rivals +glared at each other with silent sneers. I had never supposed till that +moment that men ever really sneered at one another outside the movies, +but these two were indisputably doing so. They were in the mood when +men say "Pshaw!" + +They tossed for the honour, and Arthur Jukes, having won, drove off +with a fine ball that landed well down the course. Ralph Bingham, +having teed up, turned to Rupert Bailey. + +"Go down on to the fairway of the seventeenth," he said. "I want you to +mark my ball." + +Rupert stared. + +"The seventeenth!" + +"I am going to take that direction," said Ralph, pointing over the +trees. + +"But that will land your second or third shot in the lake." + +"I have provided for that. I have a fiat-bottomed boat moored close by +the sixteenth green. I shall use a mashie-niblick and chip my ball +aboard, row across to the other side, chip it ashore, and carry on. I +propose to go across country as far as Woodfield. I think it will save +me a stroke or two." + +I gasped. I had never before realized the man's devilish cunning. His +tactics gave him a flying start. Arthur, who had driven straight down +the course, had as his objective the high road, which adjoins the waste +ground beyond the first green. Once there, he would play the orthodox +game by driving his ball along till he reached the bridge. While Arthur +was winding along the high road, Ralph would have cut off practically +two sides of a triangle. And it was hopeless for Arthur to imitate his +enemy's tactics now. From where his ball lay he would have to cross a +wide tract of marsh in order to reach the seventeenth fairway--an +impossible feat. And, even if it had been feasible, he had no boat to +take him across the water. + +He uttered a violent protest. He was an unpleasant young man, +almost--it seems absurd to say so, but almost as unpleasant as Ralph +Bingham; yet at the moment I am bound to say I sympathized with him. + +"What are you doing?" he demanded. "You can't play fast and loose with +the rules like that." + +"To what rule do you refer?" said Ralph, coldly. + +"Well, that bally boat of yours is a hazard, isn't it? And you can't +row a hazard about all over the place." + +"Why not?" + +The simple question seemed to take Arthur Jukes aback. + +"Why not?" he repeated. "Why not? Well, you can't. That's why." + +"There is nothing in the rules," said Ralph Bingham, "against moving a +hazard. If a hazard can be moved without disturbing the ball, you are +at liberty, I gather, to move it wherever you please. Besides, what is +all this about moving hazards? I have a perfect right to go for a +morning row, haven't I? If I were to ask my doctor, he would probably +actually recommend it. I am going to row my boat across the sound. If +it happens to have my ball on board, that is not my affair. I shall not +disturb my ball, and I shall play it from where it lies. Am I right in +saying that the rules enact that the ball shall be played from where it +lies?" + +We admitted that it was. + +"Very well, then," said Ralph Bingham. "Don't let us waste any more +time. We will wait for you at Woodfield." + +He addressed his ball, and drove a beauty over the trees. It flashed +out of sight in the direction of the seventeenth tee. Arthur and I made +our way down the hill to play our second. + + * * * * * + +It is a curious trait of the human mind that, however little personal +interest one may have in the result, it is impossible to prevent +oneself taking sides in any event of a competitive nature. I had +embarked on this affair in a purely neutral spirit, not caring which of +the two won and only sorry that both could not lose. Yet, as the +morning wore on, I found myself almost unconsciously becoming +distinctly pro-Jukes. I did not like the man. I objected to his face, +his manners, and the colour of his tie. Yet there was something in the +dogged way in which he struggled against adversity which touched me and +won my grudging support. Many men, I felt, having been so outmanoeuvred +at the start, would have given up the contest in despair; but Arthur +Jukes, for all his defects, had the soul of a true golfer. He declined +to give up. In grim silence he hacked his ball through the rough till +he reached the high road; and then, having played twenty-seven, set +himself resolutely to propel it on its long journey. + +It was a lovely morning, and, as I bicycled along, keeping a fatherly +eye on Arthur's activities, I realized for the first time in my life +the full meaning of that exquisite phrase of Coleridge: + + _"Clothing the palpable and familiar + With golden exhalations of the dawn,"_ + +for in the pellucid air everything seemed weirdly beautiful, even +Arthur Jukes' heather-mixture knickerbockers, of which hitherto I had +never approved. The sun gleamed on their seat, as he bent to make his +shots, in a cheerful and almost a poetic way. The birds were singing +gaily in the hedgerows, and such was my uplifted state that I, too, +burst into song, until Arthur petulantly desired me to refrain, on the +plea that, though he yielded to no man in his enjoyment of farmyard +imitations in their proper place, I put him off his stroke. And so we +passed through Bayside in silence and started to cover that long +stretch of road which ends in the railway bridge and the gentle descent +into Woodfield. + +Arthur was not doing badly. He was at least keeping them straight. And +in the circumstances straightness was to be preferred to distance. Soon +after leaving Little Hadley he had become ambitious and had used his +brassey with disastrous results, slicing his fifty-third into the rough +on the right of the road. It had taken him ten with the niblick to get +back on to the car tracks, and this had taught him prudence. + +He was now using his putter for every shot, and, except when he got +trapped in the cross-lines at the top of the hill just before reaching +Bayside, he had been in no serious difficulties. He was playing a nice +easy game, getting the full face of the putter on to each shot. + +At the top of the slope that drops down into Woodfield High Street he +paused. + +"I think I might try my brassey again here," he said. "I have a nice +lie." + +"Is it wise?" I said. + +He looked down the hill. + +"What I was thinking," he said, "was that with it I might wing that man +Bingham. I see he is standing right out in the middle of the fairway." + +I followed his gaze. It was perfectly true. Ralph Bingham was leaning +on his bicycle in the roadway, smoking a cigarette. Even at this +distance one could detect the man's disgustingly complacent expression. +Rupert Bailey was sitting with his back against the door of the +Woodfield Garage, looking rather used up. He was a man who liked to +keep himself clean and tidy, and it was plain that the cross-country +trip had done him no good. He seemed to be scraping mud off his face. I +learned later that he had had the misfortune to fall into a ditch just +beyond Bayside. + +"No," said Arthur. "On second thoughts, the safe game is the one to +play. I'll stick to the putter." + +We dropped down the hill, and presently came up with the opposition. I +had not been mistaken in thinking that Ralph Bingham looked complacent. +The man was smirking. + +"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." + +"Pah!" said Arthur. + +"You can't win now." + +"Pshaw!" said Arthur. + +I am aware that Arthur's dialogue might have been brighter, but he had +been through a trying time. + +Rupert Bailey sidled up to me. + +"I'm going home," he said. + +"Nonsense!" I replied. "You are in an official capacity. You must stick +to your post. Besides, what could be nicer than a pleasant morning +ramble?" + +"Pleasant morning ramble my number nine foot!" he replied, peevishly. +"I want to get back to civilization and set an excavating party with +pickaxes to work on me." + +"You take too gloomy a view of the matter. You are a little dusty. +Nothing more." + +"And it's not only the being buried alive that I mind. I cannot stick +Ralph Bingham much longer." + +"You have found him trying?" + +"Trying! Why, after I had fallen into that ditch and was coming up for +the third time, all the man did was simply to call to me to admire an +infernal iron shot he had just made. No sympathy, mind you! Wrapped up +in himself. Why don't you make your man give up the match? He can't +win." + +"I refuse to admit it. Much may happen between here and Royal Square." + +I have seldom known a prophecy more swiftly fulfilled. At this moment +the doors of the Woodfield Garage opened and a small car rolled out +with a grimy young man in a sweater at the wheel. He brought the +machine out into the road, and alighted and went back into the garage, +where we heard him shouting unintelligibly to someone in the rear +premises. The car remained puffing and panting against the kerb. + +Engaged in conversation with Rupert Bailey, I was paying little +attention to this evidence of an awakening world, when suddenly I heard +a hoarse, triumphant cry from Arthur Jukes, and, turned, I perceived +his ball dropping neatly into the car's interior. Arthur himself, +brandishing a niblick, was dancing about in the fairway. + +"Now what about your moving hazards?" he cried. + +At this moment the man in the sweater returned, carrying a spanner. +Arthur Jukes sprang towards him. + +"I'll give you five pounds to drive me to Royal Square," he said. + +I do not know what the sweater-clad young man's engagements for the +morning had been originally, but nothing could have been more obliging +than the ready way in which he consented to revise them at a moment's +notice. I dare say you have noticed that the sturdy peasantry of our +beloved land respond to an offer of five pounds as to a bugle-call. + +"You're on," said the youth. + +"Good!" said Arthur Jukes. + +"You think you're darned clever," said Ralph Bingham. + +"I know it," said Arthur. + +"Well, then," said Ralph, "perhaps you will tell us how you propose to +get the ball out of the car when you reach Royal Square?" + +"Certainly," replied Arthur. "You will observe on the side of the +vehicle a convenient handle which, when turned, opens the door. The +door thus opened, I shall chip my ball out!" + +"I see," said Ralph. "Yes, I never thought of that." + +There was something in the way the man spoke that I did not like. His +mildness seemed to me suspicious. He had the air of a man who has +something up his sleeve. I was still musing on this when Arthur called +to me impatiently to get in. I did so, and we drove off. Arthur was in +great spirits. He had ascertained from the young man at the wheel that +there was no chance of the opposition being able to hire another car at +the garage. This machine was his own property, and the only other one +at present in the shop was suffering from complicated trouble of the +oiling-system and would not be able to be moved for at least another +day. + +I, however, shook my head when he pointed out the advantages of his +position. I was still wondering about Ralph. + +"I don't like it," I said. + +"Don't like what?" + +"Ralph Bingham's manner." + +"Of course not," said Arthur. "Nobody does. There have been complaints +on all sides." + +"I mean, when you told him how you intended to get the ball out of the +car." + +"What was the matter with him?" + +"He was too--ha!" + +"How do you mean he was too--ha?" + +"I have it!" + +"What?" + +"I see the trap he was laying for you. It has just dawned on me. No +wonder he didn't object to your opening the door and chipping the ball +out. By doing so you would forfeit the match." + +"Nonsense! Why?" + +"Because," I said, "it is against the rules to tamper with a hazard. If +you had got into a sand-bunker, would you smooth away the sand? If you +had put your shot under a tree, could your caddie hold up the branches +to give you a clear shot? Obviously you would disqualify yourself if +you touched that door." + +Arthur's jaw dropped. + +"What! Then how the deuce am I to get it out?" + +"That," I said, gravely, "is a question between you and your Maker." + +It was here that Arthur Jukes forfeited the sympathy which I had begun +to feel for him. A crafty, sinister look came into his eyes. + +"Listen!" he said. "It'll take them an hour to catch up with us. +Suppose, during that time, that door happened to open accidentally, as +it were, and close again? You wouldn't think it necessary to mention +the fact, eh? You would be a good fellow and keep your mouth shut, yes? +You might even see your way to go so far as to back me up in a +statement to the effect that I hooked it out with my----?" + +I was revolted. + +"I am a golfer," I said, coldly, "and I obey the rules." + +"Yes, but----" + +"Those rules were drawn up by----"--I bared my head reverently--"by the +Committee of the Royal and Ancient at St. Andrews. I have always +respected them, and I shall not deviate on this occasion from the +policy of a lifetime." + +Arthur Jukes relapsed into a moody silence. He broke it once, crossing +the West Street Bridge, to observe that he would like to know if I +called myself a friend of his--a question which I was able to answer +with a whole-hearted negative. After that he did not speak till the car +drew up in front of the Majestic Hotel in Royal Square. + +Early as the hour was, a certain bustle and animation already prevailed +in that centre of the city, and the spectacle of a man in a golf-coat +and plus-four knickerbockers hacking with a niblick at the floor of a +car was not long in collecting a crowd of some dimensions. Three +messenger-boys, four typists, and a gentleman in full evening-dress, +who obviously possessed or was friendly with someone who possessed a +large cellar, formed the nucleus of it; and they were joined about the +time when Arthur addressed the ball in order to play his nine hundred +and fifteenth by six news-boys, eleven charladies, and perhaps a dozen +assorted loafers, all speculating with the liveliest interest as to +which particular asylum had had the honour of sheltering Arthur before +he had contrived to elude the vigilance of his custodians. + +Arthur had prepared for some such contingency. He suspended his +activities with the niblick, and drew from his pocket a large poster, +which he proceeded to hang over the side of the car. It read: + + COME + TO + McCLURG AND MACDONALD, + 18, WEST STREET, + FOR + ALL GOLFING SUPPLIES. + +His knowledge of psychology had not misled him. Directly they gathered +that he was advertising something, the crowd declined to look at it; +they melted away, and Arthur returned to his work in solitude. + +He was taking a well-earned rest after playing his eleven hundred and +fifth, a nice niblick shot with lots of wrist behind it, when out of +Bridle Street there trickled a weary-looking golf-ball, followed in the +order named by Ralph Bingham, resolute but going a trifle at the knees, +and Rupert Bailey on a bicycle. The latter, on whose face and limbs the +mud had dried, made an arresting spectacle. + +"What are you playing?" I inquired. + +"Eleven hundred," said Rupert. "We got into a casual dog." + +"A casual dog?" + +"Yes, just before the bridge. We were coming along nicely, when a stray +dog grabbed our nine hundred and ninety-eighth and took it nearly back +to Woodfield, and we had to start all over again. How are you getting +on?" + +"We have just played our eleven hundred and fifth. A nice even game." I +looked at Ralph's ball, which was lying close to the kerb. "You are +farther from the hole, I think. Your shot, Bingham." + +Rupert Bailey suggested breakfast. He was a man who was altogether too +fond of creature comforts. He had not the true golfing spirit. + +"Breakfast!" I exclaimed. + +"Breakfast," said Rupert, firmly. "If you don't know what it is, I can +teach you in half a minute. You play it with a pot of coffee, a knife +and fork, and about a hundred-weight of scrambled eggs. Try it. It's a +pastime that grows on you." + +I was surprised when Ralph Bingham supported the suggestion. He was so +near holing out that I should have supposed that nothing would have +kept him from finishing the match. But he agreed heartily. + +"Breakfast," he said, "is an excellent idea. You go along in. I'll +follow in a moment. I want to buy a paper." + +We went into the hotel, and a few minutes later he joined us. Now that +we were actually at the table, I confess that the idea of breakfast was +by no means repugnant to me. The keen air and the exercise had given me +an appetite, and it was some little time before I was able to assure +the waiter definitely that he could cease bringing orders of scrambled +eggs. The others having finished also, I suggested a move. I was +anxious to get the match over and be free to go home. + +We filed out of the hotel, Arthur Jukes leading. When I had passed +through the swing-doors, I found him gazing perplexedly up and down the +street. + +"What is the matter?" I asked. + +"It's gone!" + +"What has gone?" + +"The car!" + +"Oh, the car?" said Ralph Bingham. "That's all right. Didn't I tell you +about that? I bought it just now and engaged the driver as my +chauffeur, I've been meaning to buy a car for a long time. A man ought +to have a car." + +"Where is it?" said Arthur, blankly. The man seemed dazed. + +"I couldn't tell you to a mile or two," replied Ralph. "I told the man +to drive to Glasgow. Why? Had you any message for him?" + +"But my ball was inside it!" + +"Now that," said Ralph, "is really unfortunate! Do you mean to tell me +you hadn't managed to get it out yet? Yes, that is a little awkward for +you. I'm afraid it means that you lose the match." + +"Lose the match?" + +"Certainly. The rules are perfectly definite on that point. A period of +five minutes is allowed for each stroke. The player who fails to make +his stroke within that time loses the hole. Unfortunate, but there it +is!" + +Arthur Jukes sank down on the path and buried his face in his hands. He +had the appearance of a broken man. Once more, I am bound to say, I +felt a certain pity for him. He had certainly struggled gamely, and it +was hard to be beaten like this on the post. + +"Playing eleven hundred and one," said Ralph Bingham, in his odiously +self-satisfied voice, as he addressed his ball. He laughed jovially. A +messenger-boy had paused close by and was watching the proceedings +gravely. Ralph Bingham patted him on the head. + +"Well, sonny," he said, "what club would _you_ use here?" + +"I claim the match!" cried Arthur Jukes, springing up. Ralph Bingham +regarded him coldly. + +"I beg your pardon?" + +"I claim the match!" repeated Arthur Jukes. "The rules say that a +player who asks advice from any person other than his caddie shall lose +the hole." + +"This is absurd!" said Ralph, but I noticed that he had turned pale. + +"I appeal to the judges." + +"We sustain the appeal," I said, after a brief consultation with Rupert +Bailey. "The rule is perfectly clear." + +"But you had lost the match already by not playing within five +minutes," said Ralph, vehemently. + +"It was not my turn to play. You were farther from the pin." + +"Well, play now. Go on! Let's see you make your shot." + +"There is no necessity," said Arthur, frigidly. "Why should I play when +you have already disqualified yourself?" + +"I claim a draw!" + +"I deny the claim." + +"I appeal to the judges." + +"Very well. We will leave it to the judges." + +I consulted with Rupert Bailey. It seemed to me that Arthur Jukes was +entitled to the verdict. Rupert, who, though an amiable and delightful +companion, had always been one of Nature's fat-heads, could not see it. +We had to go back to our principals and announce that we had been +unable to agree. + +"This is ridiculous," said Ralph Bingham. "We ought to have had a third +judge." + +At this moment, who should come out of the hotel but Amanda Trivett! A +veritable goddess from the machine. + +"It seems to me," I said, "that you would both be well advised to leave +the decision to Miss Trivett. You could have no better referee." + +"I'm game," said Arthur Jukes. + +"Suits _me_," said Ralph Bingham. + +"Why, whatever are you all doing here with your golf-clubs?" asked the +girl, wonderingly. + +"These two gentlemen," I explained, "have been playing a match, and a +point has arisen on which the judges do not find themselves in +agreement. We need an unbiased outside opinion, and we should like to +put it up to you. The facts are as follows:..." + +Amanda Trivett listened attentively, but, when I had finished, she +shook her head. + +"I'm afraid I don't know enough about the game to be able to decide a +question like that," she said. + +"Then we must consult St. Andrews," said Rupert Bailey. + +"I'll tell you who might know," said Amanda Trivett, after a moment's +thought. + +"Who is that?" I asked. + +"My _fiance_. He has just come back from a golfing holiday. That's +why I'm in town this morning. I've been to meet him. He is very good at +golf. He won a medal at Little-Mudbury-in-the-Wold the day before he +left." + +There was a tense silence. I had the delicacy not to look at Ralph or +Arthur. Then the silence was broken by a sharp crack. Ralph Bingham had +broken his mashie-niblick across his knee. From the direction where +Arthur Jukes was standing there came a muffled gulp. + +"Shall I ask him?" said Amanda Trivett. + +"Don't bother," said Ralph Bingham. + +"It doesn't matter," said Arthur Jukes. + + + + +8 + +_The Heel of Achilles_ + + +On the young man's face, as he sat sipping his ginger-ale in the +club-house smoking-room, there was a look of disillusionment. "Never +again!" he said. + +The Oldest Member glanced up from his paper. + +"You are proposing to give up golf once more?" he queried. + +"Not golf. Betting on golf." The Young Man frowned. "I've just been let +down badly. Wouldn't you have thought I had a good thing, laying seven +to one on McTavish against Robinson?" + +"Undoubtedly," said the Sage. "The odds, indeed, generous as they are, +scarcely indicate the former's superiority. Do you mean to tell me that +the thing came unstitched?" + +"Robinson won in a walk, after being three down at the turn. + +"Strange! What happened?" + +"Why, they looked in at the bar to have a refresher before starting for +the tenth," said the young man, his voice quivering, "and McTavish +suddenly discovered that there was a hole in his trouser-pocket and +sixpence had dropped out. He worried so frightfully about it that on +the second nine he couldn't do a thing right. Went completely off his +game and didn't win a hole." + +The Sage shook his head gravely. + +"If this is really going to be a lesson to you, my boy, never to bet on +the result of a golf-match, it will be a blessing in disguise. There is +no such thing as a certainty in golf. I wonder if I ever told you a +rather curious episode in the career of Vincent Jopp?" + +"_The_ Vincent Jopp? The American multi-millionaire?" + +"The same. You never knew he once came within an ace of winning the +American Amateur Championship, did you?" + +"I never heard of his playing golf." + +"He played for one season. After that he gave it up and has not touched +a club since. Ring the bell and get me a small lime-juice, and I will +tell you all." + + * * * * * + +It was long before your time (said the Oldest Member) that the events +which I am about to relate took place. I had just come down from +Cambridge, and was feeling particularly pleased with myself because I +had secured the job of private and confidential secretary to Vincent +Jopp, then a man in the early thirties, busy in laying the foundations +of his present remarkable fortune. He engaged me, and took me with him +to Chicago. + +Jopp was, I think, the most extraordinary personality I have +encountered in a long and many-sided life. He was admirably equipped +for success in finance, having the steely eye and square jaw without +which it is hopeless for a man to enter that line of business. He +possessed also an overwhelming confidence in himself, and the ability +to switch a cigar from one corner of his mouth to the other without +wiggling his ears, which, as you know, is the stamp of the true Monarch +of the Money Market. He was the nearest approach to the financier on +the films, the fellow who makes his jaw-muscles jump when he is +telephoning, that I have ever seen. + +Like all successful men, he was a man of method. He kept a pad on his +desk on which he would scribble down his appointments, and it was my +duty on entering the office each morning to take this pad and type its +contents neatly in a loose-leaved ledger. Usually, of course, these +entries referred to business appointments and deals which he was +contemplating, but one day I was interested to note, against the date +May 3rd, the entry: + + "_Propose to Amelia_" + +I was interested, as I say, but not surprised. Though a man of steel +and iron, there was nothing of the celibate about Vincent Jopp. He was +one of those men who marry early and often. On three separate occasions +before I joined his service he had jumped off the dock, to scramble +back to shore again later by means of the Divorce Court lifebelt. +Scattered here and there about the country there were three ex-Mrs. +Jopps, drawing their monthly envelope, and now, it seemed, he +contemplated the addition of a fourth to the platoon. + +I was not surprised, I say, at this resolve of his. What did seem a +little remarkable to me was the thorough way in which he had thought +the thing out. This iron-willed man recked nothing of possible +obstacles. Under the date of June 1st was the entry: + + "_Marry Amelia_"; + +while in March of the following year he had arranged to have his +first-born christened Thomas Reginald. Later on, the short-coating of +Thomas Reginald was arranged for, and there was a note about sending +him to school. Many hard things have been said of Vincent Jopp, but +nobody has ever accused him of not being a man who looked ahead. + +On the morning of May 4th Jopp came into the office, looking, I +fancied, a little thoughtful. He sat for some moments staring before +him with his brow a trifle furrowed; then he seemed to come to himself. +He rapped his desk. + +"Hi! You!" he said. It was thus that he habitually addressed me. + +"Mr. Jopp?" I replied. + +"What's golf?" + +I had at that time just succeeded in getting my handicap down into +single figures, and I welcomed the opportunity of dilating on the +noblest of pastimes. But I had barely begun my eulogy when he stopped +me. + +"It's a game, is it?" + +"I suppose you could call it that," I said, "but it is an offhand way +of describing the holiest----" + +"How do you play it?" + +"Pretty well," I said. "At the beginning of the season I didn't seem +able to keep 'em straight at all, but lately I've been doing fine. +Getting better every day. Whether it was that I was moving my head or +gripping too tightly with the right hand----" + +"Keep the reminiscences for your grandchildren during the long winter +evenings," he interrupted, abruptly, as was his habit. "What I want to +know is what a fellow does when he plays golf. Tell me in as few words +as you can just what it's all about." + +"You hit a ball with a stick till it falls into a hole." + +"Easy!" he snapped. "Take dictation." + +I produced my pad. + +"May the fifth, take up golf. What's an Amateur Championship?" + +"It is the annual competition to decide which is the best player among +the amateurs. There is also a Professional Championship, and an Open +event." + +"Oh, there are golf professionals, are there? What do they do?" + +"They teach golf." + +"Which is the best of them?" + +"Sandy McHoots won both British and American Open events last year." + +"Wire him to come here at once." + +"But McHoots is in Inverlochty, in Scotland." + +"Never mind. Get him; tell him to name his own terms. When is the +Amateur Championship?" + +"I think it is on September the twelfth this year." + +"All right, take dictation. September twelfth win Amateur +Championship." + +I stared at him in amazement, but he was not looking at me. + +"Got that?" he said. "September thir--Oh, I was forgetting! Add +September twelfth, corner wheat. September thirteenth, marry Amelia." + +"Marry Amelia," I echoed, moistening my pencil. + +"Where do you play this--what's-its-name--golf?" + +"There are clubs all over the country. I belong to the Wissahicky +Glen." + +"That a good place?" + +"Very good." + +"Arrange today for my becoming a member." + + * * * * * + +Sandy McHoots arrived in due course, and was shown into the private +office. + +"Mr. McHoots?" said Vincent Jopp. + +"Mphm!" said the Open Champion. + +"I have sent for you, Mr. McHoots, because I hear that you are the +greatest living exponent of this game of golf." + +"Aye," said the champion, cordially. "I am that." + +"I wish you to teach me the game. I am already somewhat behind schedule +owing to the delay incident upon your long journey, so let us start at +once. Name a few of the most important points in connection with the +game. My secretary will make notes of them, and I will memorize them. +In this way we shall save time. Now, what is the most important thing +to remember when playing golf?" + +"Keep your heid still." + +"A simple task." + +"Na sae simple as it soonds." + +"Nonsense!" said Vincent Jopp, curtly. "If I decide to keep my head +still, I shall keep it still. What next?" + +"Keep yer ee on the ba'." + +"It shall be attended to. And the next?" + +"Dinna press." + +"I won't. And to resume." + +Mr. McHoots ran through a dozen of the basic rules, and I took them +down in shorthand. Vincent Jopp studied the list. + +"Very good. Easier than I had supposed. On the first tee at Wissahicky +Glen at eleven sharp tomorrow, Mr. McHoots. Hi! You!" + +"Sir?" I said. + +"Go out and buy me a set of clubs, a red jacket, a cloth cap, a pair of +spiked shoes, and a ball." + +"One ball?" + +"Certainly. What need is there of more?" + +"It sometimes happens," I explained, "that a player who is learning the +game falls to hit his ball straight, and then he often loses it in the +rough at the side of the fairway." + +"Absurd!" said Vincent Jopp. "If I set out to drive my ball straight, I +shall drive it straight. Good morning, Mr. McHoots. You will excuse me +now. I am busy cornering Woven Textiles." + + * * * * * + +Golf is in its essence a simple game. You laugh in a sharp, bitter, +barking manner when I say this, but nevertheless it is true. Where the +average man goes wrong is in making the game difficult for himself. +Observe the non-player, the man who walks round with you for the sake +of the fresh air. He will hole out with a single care-free flick of his +umbrella the twenty-foot putt over which you would ponder and hesitate +for a full minute before sending it right off the line. Put a driver in +his hands and he pastes the ball into the next county without a +thought. It is only when he takes to the game in earnest that he +becomes self-conscious and anxious, and tops his shots even as you and +I. A man who could retain through his golfing career the almost +scornful confidence of the non-player would be unbeatable. Fortunately +such an attitude of mind is beyond the scope of human nature. + +It was not, however, beyond the scope of Vincent Jopp, the superman. +Vincent Jopp, was, I am inclined to think, the only golfer who ever +approached the game in a spirit of Pure Reason. I have read of men who, +never having swum in their lives, studied a text-book on their way down +to the swimming bath, mastered its contents, and dived in and won the +big race. In just such a spirit did Vincent Jopp start to play golf. He +committed McHoots's hints to memory, and then went out on the links and +put them into practice. He came to the tee with a clear picture in his +mind of what he had to do, and he did it. He was not intimidated, like +the average novice, by the thought that if he pulled in his hands he +would slice, or if he gripped too tightly with the right he would pull. +Pulling in the hands was an error, so he did not pull in his hands. +Gripping too tightly was a defect, so he did not grip too tightly. With +that weird concentration which had served him so well in business he +did precisely what he had set out to do--no less and no more. Golf with +Vincent Jopp was an exact science. + +The annals of the game are studded with the names of those who have +made rapid progress in their first season. Colonel Quill, we read in +our Vardon, took up golf at the age of fifty-six, and by devising an +ingenious machine consisting of a fishing-line and a sawn-down bedpost +was enabled to keep his head so still that he became a scratch player +before the end of the year. But no one, I imagine, except Vincent Jopp, +has ever achieved scratch on his first morning on the links. + +The main difference, we are told, between the amateur and the +professional golfer is the fact that the latter is always aiming at the +pin, while the former has in his mind a vague picture of getting +somewhere reasonably near it. Vincent Jopp invariably went for the pin. +He tried to hole out from anywhere inside two hundred and twenty yards. +The only occasion on which I ever heard him express any chagrin or +disappointment was during the afternoon round on his first day out, +when from the tee on the two hundred and eighty yard seventh he laid +his ball within six inches of the hole. + +"A marvellous shot!" I cried, genuinely stirred. + +"Too much to the right," said Vincent Jopp, frowning. + +He went on from triumph to triumph. He won the monthly medal in May, +June, July, August, and September. Towards the end of May he was heard +to complain that Wissahicky Glen was not a sporting course. The Greens +Committee sat up night after night trying to adjust his handicap so as +to give other members an outside chance against him. The golf experts +of the daily papers wrote columns about his play. And it was pretty +generally considered throughout the country that it would be a pure +formality for anyone else to enter against him in the Amateur +Championship--an opinion which was borne out when he got through into +the final without losing a hole. A safe man to have betted on, you +would have said. But mark the sequel. + + * * * * * + +The American Amateur Championship was held that year in Detroit. I had +accompanied my employer there; for, though engaged on this +nerve-wearing contest, he refused to allow his business to be +interfered with. As he had indicated in his schedule, he was busy at +the time cornering wheat; and it was my task to combine the duties of +caddy and secretary. Each day I accompanied him round the links with my +note-book and his bag of clubs, and the progress of his various matches +was somewhat complicated by the arrival of a stream of telegraph-boys +bearing important messages. He would read these between the strokes and +dictate replies to me, never, however, taking more than the five +minutes allowed by the rules for an interval between strokes. I am +inclined to think that it was this that put the finishing touch on his +opponents' discomfiture. It is not soothing for a nervous man to have +the game hung up on the green while his adversary dictates to his caddy +a letter beginning "Yours of the 11th inst. received and contents +noted. In reply would state----" This sort of thing puts a man off his +game. + +I was resting in the lobby of our hotel after a strenuous day's work, +when I found that I was being paged. I answered the summons, and was +informed that a lady wished to see me. Her card bore the name "Miss +Amelia Merridew." Amelia! The name seemed familiar. Then I remembered. +Amelia was the name of the girl Vincent Jopp intended to marry, the +fourth of the long line of Mrs. Jopps. I hurried to present myself, and +found a tall, slim girl, who was plainly labouring under a considerable +agitation. + +"Miss Merridew?" I said. + +"Yes," she murmured. "My name will be strange to you." + +"Am I right," I queried, "in supposing that you are the lady to whom +Mr. Jopp----" + +"I am! I am!" she replied. "And, oh, what shall I do?" + +"Kindly give me particulars," I said, taking out my pad from force of +habit. + +She hesitated a moment, as if afraid to speak. + +"You are caddying for Mr. Jopp in the Final tomorrow?" she said at +last. + +"I am." + +"Then could you--would you mind--would it be giving you too much +trouble if I asked you to shout 'Boo!' at him when he is making his +stroke, if he looks like winning?" + +I was perplexed. + +"I don't understand." + +"I see that I must tell you all. I am sure you will treat what I say as +absolutely confidential." + +"Certainly." + +"I am provisionally engaged to Mr. Jopp." + +"Provisionally?" + +She gulped. + +"Let me tell you my story. Mr. Jopp asked me to marry him, and I would +rather do anything on earth than marry him. But how could I say 'No!' +with those awful eyes of his boring me through? I knew that if I said +'No', he would argue me out of it in two minutes. I had an idea. I +gathered that he had never played golf, so I told him that I would +marry him if he won the Amateur Championship this year. And now I find +that he has been a golfer all along, and, what is more, a plus man! It +isn't fair!" + +"He was not a golfer when you made that condition," I said. "He took up +the game on the following day." + +"Impossible! How could he have become as good as he is in this short +time?" + +"Because he is Vincent Jopp! In his lexicon there is no such word as +impossible." + +She shuddered. + +"What a man! But I can't marry him," she cried. "I want to marry +somebody else. Oh, won't you help me? Do shout 'Boo!' at him when he is +starting his down-swing!" + +I shook my head. + +"It would take more than a single 'boo' to put Vincent Jopp off his +stroke." + +"But won't you try it?" + +"I cannot. My duty is to my employer." + +"Oh, do!" + +"No, no. Duty is duty, and paramount with me. Besides, I have a bet on +him to win." + +The stricken girl uttered a faint moan, and tottered away. + + * * * * * + +I was in our suite shortly after dinner that night, going over some of +the notes I had made that day, when the telephone rang. Jopp was out at +the time, taking a short stroll with his after-dinner cigar. I unhooked +the receiver, and a female voice spoke. + +"Is that Mr. Jopp?" + +"Mr. Jopp's secretary speaking. Mr. Jopp is out." + +"Oh, it's nothing important. Will you say that Mrs. Luella Mainprice +Jopp called up to wish him luck? I shall be on the course tomorrow to +see him win the final." + +I returned to my notes. Soon afterwards the telephone rang again. + +"Vincent, dear?" + +"Mr. Jopp's secretary speaking." + +"Oh, will you say that Mrs. Jane Jukes Jopp called up to wish him luck? +I shall be there tomorrow to see him play." + +I resumed my work. I had hardly started when the telephone rang for the +third time. + +"Mr. Jopp?" + +"Mr. Jopp's secretary speaking." + +"This is Mrs. Agnes Parsons Jopp. I just called up to wish him luck. I +shall be looking on tomorrow." + +I shifted my work nearer to the telephone-table so as to be ready for +the next call. I had heard that Vincent Jopp had only been married +three times, but you never knew. + +Presently Jopp came in. + +"Anybody called up?" he asked. + +"Nobody on business. An assortment of your wives were on the wire +wishing you luck. They asked me to say that they will be on the course +tomorrow." + +For a moment it seemed to me that the man's iron repose was shaken. + +"Luella?" he asked. + +"She was the first." + +"Jane?" + +"And Jane." + +"And Agnes?" + +"Agnes," I said, "is right." + +"H'm!" said Vincent Jopp. And for the first time since I had known him +I thought that he was ill at ease. + + * * * * * + +The day of the final dawned bright and clear. At least, I was not awake +at the time to see, but I suppose it did; for at nine o'clock, when I +came down to breakfast, the sun was shining brightly. The first +eighteen holes were to be played before lunch, starting at eleven. +Until twenty minutes before the hour Vincent Jopp kept me busy taking +dictation, partly on matters connected with his wheat deal and partly +on a signed article dealing with the Final, entitled "How I Won." At +eleven sharp we were out on the first tee. + +Jopp's opponent was a nice-looking young man, but obviously nervous. He +giggled in a distraught sort of way as he shook hands with my employer. + +"Well, may the best man win," he said. + +"I have arranged to do so," replied Jopp, curtly, and started to +address his ball. + +There was a large crowd at the tee, and, as Jopp started his +down-swing, from somewhere on the outskirts of this crowd there came +suddenly a musical "Boo!" It rang out in the clear morning air like a +bugle. + +I had been right in my estimate of Vincent Jopp. His forceful stroke +never wavered. The head of his club struck the ball, despatching it a +good two hundred yards down the middle of the fairway. As we left the +tee I saw Amelia Merridew being led away with bowed head by two members +of the Greens Committee. Poor girl! My heart bled for her. And yet, +after all, Fate had been kind in removing her from the scene, even in +custody, for she could hardly have borne to watch the proceedings. +Vincent Jopp made rings round his antagonist. Hole after hole he won in +his remorseless, machine-like way, until when lunch-time came at the +end of the eighteenth he was ten up. All the other holes had been +halved. + +It was after lunch, as we made our way to the first tee, that the +advance-guard of the Mrs. Jopps appeared in the person of Luella +Mainprice Jopp, a kittenish little woman with blond hair and a +Pekingese dog. I remembered reading in the papers that she had divorced +my employer for persistent and aggravated mental cruelty, calling +witnesses to bear out her statement that he had said he did not like +her in pink, and that on two separate occasions had insisted on her dog +eating the leg of a chicken instead of the breast; but Time, the great +healer, seemed to have removed all bitterness, and she greeted him +affectionately. + +"Wassums going to win great big championship against nasty rough strong +man?" she said. + +"Such," said Vincent Jopp, "is my intention. It was kind of you, +Luella, to trouble to come and watch me. I wonder if you know Mrs. +Agnes Parsons Jopp?" he said, courteously, indicating a kind-looking, +motherly woman who had just come up. "How are you, Agnes?" + +"If you had asked me that question this morning, Vincent," replied Mrs. +Agnes Parsons Jopp, "I should have been obliged to say that I felt far +from well. I had an odd throbbing feeling in the left elbow, and I am +sure my temperature was above the normal. But this afternoon I am a +little better. How are you, Vincent?" + +Although she had, as I recalled from the reports of the case, been +compelled some years earlier to request the Court to sever her marital +relations with Vincent Jopp on the ground of calculated and inhuman +brutality, in that he had callously refused, in spite of her pleadings, +to take old Dr. Bennett's Tonic Swamp-Juice three times a day, her +voice, as she spoke, was kind and even anxious. Badly as this man had +treated her--and I remember hearing that several of the jury had been +unable to restrain their tears when she was in the witness-box giving +her evidence--there still seemed to linger some remnants of the old +affection. + +"I am quite well, thank you, Agnes," said Vincent Jopp. + +"Are you wearing your liver-pad?" + +A frown flitted across my employer's strong face. + +"I am not wearing my liver-pad," he replied, brusquely. + +"Oh, Vincent, how rash of you!" + +He was about to speak, when a sudden exclamation from his rear checked +him. A genial-looking woman in a sports coat was standing there, eyeing +him with a sort of humorous horror. + +"Well, Jane," he said. + +I gathered that this was Mrs. Jane Jukes Jopp, the wife who had +divorced him for systematic and ingrowing fiendishness on the ground +that he had repeatedly outraged her feelings by wearing a white +waistcoat with a dinner-jacket. She continued to look at him dumbly, +and then uttered a sort of strangled, hysterical laugh. + +"Those legs!" she cried. "Those legs!" + +Vincent Jopp flushed darkly. Even the strongest and most silent of us +have our weaknesses, and my employer's was the rooted idea that he +looked well in knickerbockers. It was not my place to try to dissuade +him, but there was no doubt that they did not suit him. Nature, in +bestowing upon him a massive head and a jutting chin, had forgotten to +finish him off at the other end. Vincent Jopp's legs were skinny. + +"You poor dear man!" went on Mrs. Jane Jukes Jopp. "What practical +joker ever lured you into appearing in public in knickerbockers?" + +"I don't object to the knickerbockers," said Mrs. Agnes Parsons Jopp, +"but when he foolishly comes out in quite a strong east wind without +his liver-pad----" + +"Little Tinky-Ting don't need no liver-pad, he don't," said Mrs. Luella +Mainprice Jopp, addressing the animal in her arms, "because he was his +muzzer's pet, he was." + +I was standing quite near to Vincent Jopp, and at this moment I saw a +bead of perspiration spring out on his forehead, and into his steely +eyes there came a positively hunted look. I could understand and +sympathize. Napoleon himself would have wilted if he had found himself +in the midst of a trio of females, one talking baby-talk, another +fussing about his health, and the third making derogatory observations +on his lower limbs. Vincent Jopp was becoming unstrung. + +"May as well be starting, shall we?" + +It was Jopp's opponent who spoke. There was a strange, set look on his +face--the look of a man whose back is against the wall. Ten down on the +morning's round, he had drawn on his reserves of courage and was +determined to meet the inevitable bravely. + +Vincent Jopp nodded absently, then turned to me. + +"Keep those women away from me," he whispered tensely. "They'll put me +off my stroke!" + +"Put _you_ off your stroke!" I exclaimed, incredulously. + +"Yes, me! How the deuce can I concentrate, with people babbling about +liver-pads, and--and knickerbockers all round me? Keep them away!" + +He started to address his ball, and there was a weak uncertainty in the +way he did it that prepared me for what was to come. His club rose, +wavered, fell; and the ball, badly topped, trickled two feet and sank +into a cuppy lie. + +"Is that good or bad?" inquired Mrs. Luella Mainprice Jopp. + +A sort of desperate hope gleamed in the eye of the other competitor in +the final. He swung with renewed vigour. His ball sang through the air, +and lay within chip-shot distance of the green. + +"At the very least," said Mrs. Agnes Parsons Jopp, "I hope, Vincent, +that you are wearing flannel next your skin." + +I heard Jopp give a stifled groan as he took his spoon from the bag. He +made a gallant effort to retrieve the lost ground, but the ball struck +a stone and bounded away into the long grass to the side of the green. +His opponent won the hole. + +We moved to the second tee. + +"Now, that young man," said Mrs. Jane Jukes Jopp, indicating her late +husband's blushing antagonist, "is quite right to wear knickerbockers. +He can carry them off. But a glance in the mirror must have shown you +that you----" + +"I'm sure you're feverish, Vincent," said Mrs. Agnes Parsons Jopp, +solicitously. "You are quite flushed. There is a wild gleam in your +eyes." + +"Muzzer's pet got little buttons of eyes, that don't never have no wild +gleam in zem because he's muzzer's own darling, he was!" said Mrs. +Luella Mainprice Jopp. + +A hollow groan escaped Vincent Jopp's ashen lips. + +I need not recount the play hole by hole, I think. There are some +subjects that are too painful. It was pitiful to watch Vincent Jopp in +his downfall. By the end of the first nine his lead had been reduced to +one, and his antagonist, rendered a new man by success, was playing +magnificent golf. On the next hole he drew level. Then with a +superhuman effort Jopp contrived to halve the eleventh, twelfth, and +thirteenth. It seemed as though his iron will might still assert +itself, but on the fourteenth the end came. + +He had driven a superb ball, outdistancing his opponent by a full fifty +yards. The latter played a good second to within a few feet of the +green. And then, as Vincent Jopp was shaping for his stroke, Luella +Mainprice gave tongue. + +"Vincent!" + +"Well?" + +"Vincent, that other man--bad man--not playing fair. When your back was +turned just now, he gave his ball a great bang. _I_ was watching +him." + +"At any rate," said Mrs. Agnes Parsons Jopp, "I do hope, when the game +is over, Vincent, that you will remember to cool slowly." + +"Flesho!" cried Mrs. Jane Jukes Jopp triumphantly. "I've been trying to +remember the name all the afternoon. I saw about it in one of the +papers. The advertisements speak most highly of it. You take it before +breakfast and again before retiring, and they guarantee it to produce +firm, healthy flesh on the most sparsely-covered limbs in next to no +time. Now, _will_ you remember to get a bottle tonight? It comes +in two sizes, the five-shilling (or large size) and the smaller at +half-a-crown. G. K. Chesterton writes that he used it regularly for +years." + +Vincent Jopp uttered a quavering moan, and his hand, as he took the +mashie from his bag, was trembling like an aspen. + +Ten minutes later, he was on his way back to the club-house, a beaten +man. + + * * * * * + +And so (concluded the Oldest Member) you see that in golf there is no +such thing as a soft snap. You can never be certain of the finest +player. Anything may happen to the greatest expert at any stage of the +game. In a recent competition George Duncan took eleven shots over a +hole which eighteen-handicap men generally do in five. No! Back horses +or go down to Throgmorton Street and try to take it away from the +Rothschilds, and I will applaud you as a shrewd and cautious financier. +But to bet at golf is pure gambling. + + + + +9 + +_The Rough Stuff_ + + +Into the basking warmth of the day there had crept, with the approach +of evening, that heartening crispness which heralds the advent of +autumn. Already, in the valley by the ninth tee, some of the trees had +begun to try on strange colours, in tentative experiment against the +coming of nature's annual fancy dress ball, when the soberest tree +casts off its workaday suit of green and plunges into a riot of reds +and yellows. On the terrace in front of the club-house an occasional +withered leaf fluttered down on the table where the Oldest Member sat, +sipping a thoughtful seltzer and lemon and listening with courteous +gravity to a young man in a sweater and golf breeches who occupied the +neighbouring chair. + +"She is a dear girl," said the young man a little moodily, "a dear girl +in every respect. But somehow--I don't know--when I see her playing +golf I can't help thinking that woman's place is in the home." + +The Oldest Member inclined his frosted head. + +"You think," he said, "that lovely woman loses in queenly dignity when +she fails to slam the ball squarely on the meat?" + +"I don't mind her missing the pill," said the young man. "But I think +her attitude toward the game is too light-hearted." + +"Perhaps it cloaks a deeper feeling. One of the noblest women I ever +knew used to laugh merrily when she foozled a short putt. It was only +later, when I learned that in the privacy of her home she would weep +bitterly and bite holes in the sofa cushions, that I realized that she +did but wear the mask. Continue to encourage your _fiancee_ to +play the game, my boy. Much happiness will reward you. I could tell you +a story----" + +A young woman of singular beauty and rather statuesque appearance came +out of the club-house carrying a baby swaddled in flannel. As she drew +near the table she said to the baby: + +"Chicketty wicketty wicketty wipsey pop!" + +In other respects her intelligence appeared to be above the ordinary. + +"Isn't he a darling!" she said, addressing the Oldest Member. + +The Sage cast a meditative eye upon the infant. Except to the eye of +love, it looked like a skinned poached egg. + +"Unquestionably so," he replied. + +"Don't you think he looks more like his father every day?" + +For a brief instant the Oldest Member seemed to hesitate. + +"Assuredly!" he said. "Is your husband out on the links today?" + +"Not today. He had to see Wilberforce off on the train to Scotland." + +"Your brother is going to Scotland?" + +"Yes. Ramsden has such a high opinion of the schools up there. I did +say that Scotland was a long way off, and he said yes, that had +occurred to him, but that we must make sacrifices for Willie's good. He +was very brave and cheerful about it. Well, I mustn't stay. There's +quite a nip in the air, and Rammikins will get a nasty cold in his +precious little button of a nose if I don't walk him about. Say +'Bye-bye' to the gentleman, Rammy!" + +The Oldest Member watched her go thoughtfully. + +"There is a nip in the air," he said, "and, unlike our late +acquaintance in the flannel, I am not in my first youth. Come with me, +I want to show you something." + +He led the way into the club-house, and paused before the wall of the +smoking-room. This was decorated from top to bottom with bold +caricatures of members of the club. + +"These," he said, "are the work of a young newspaper artist who belongs +here. A clever fellow. He has caught the expressions of these men +wonderfully. His only failure, indeed, is that picture of myself." He +regarded it with distaste, and a touch of asperity crept into his +manner. "I don't know why the committee lets it stay there," he said, +irritably. "It isn't a bit like." He recovered himself. "But all the +others are excellent, excellent, though I believe many of the subjects +are under the erroneous impression that they bear no resemblance to the +originals. Here is the picture I wished to show you. That is Ramsden +Waters, the husband of the lady who has just left us." + +The portrait which he indicated was that of a man in the early +thirties. Pale saffron hair surmounted a receding forehead. Pale blue +eyes looked out over a mouth which wore a pale, weak smile, from the +centre of which protruded two teeth of a rabbit-like character. + +"Golly! What a map!" exclaimed the young man at his side. + +"Precisely!" said the Oldest Member. "You now understand my momentary +hesitation in agreeing with Mrs. Waters that the baby was like its +father. I was torn by conflicting emotions. On the one hand, politeness +demanded that I confirm any statement made by a lady. Common humanity, +on the other hand, made it repugnant to me to knock an innocent child. +Yes, that is Ramsden Waters. Sit down and take the weight off your +feet, and I will tell you about him. The story illustrates a favourite +theory of mine, that it is an excellent thing that women should be +encouraged to take up golf. There are, I admit, certain drawbacks +attendant on their presence on the links. I shall not readily forget +the occasion on which a low, raking drive of mine at the eleventh +struck the ladies' tee box squarely and came back and stunned my +caddie, causing me to lose stroke and distance. Nevertheless, I hold +that the advantages outnumber the drawbacks. Golf humanizes women, +humbles their haughty natures, tends, in short, to knock out of their +systems a certain modicum of that superciliousness, that swank, which +makes wooing a tough proposition for the diffident male. You may have +found this yourself?" + +"Well, as a matter of fact," admitted the young man, "now I come to +think of it I have noticed that Genevieve has shown me a bit more +respect since she took up the game. When I drive 230 yards after she +had taken six sloshes to cover fifty, I sometimes think that a new +light comes into her eyes." + +"Exactly," said the Sage. + + * * * * * + +From earliest youth (said the Oldest Member) Ramsden Waters had always +been of a shrinking nature. He seemed permanently scared. Possibly his +nurse had frightened him with tales of horror in his babyhood. If so, +she must have been the Edgar Allan Poe of her sex, for, by the time he +reached men's estate, Ramsden Waters had about as much ferocity and +self-assertion as a blanc mange. Even with other men he was noticeably +timid, and with women he comported himself in a manner that roused +their immediate scorn and antagonism. He was one of those men who fall +over their feet and start apologizing for themselves the moment they +see a woman. His idea of conversing with a girl was to perspire and tie +himself into knots, making the while a strange gurgling sound like the +language of some primitive tribe. If ever a remark of any coherence +emerged from his tangled vocal cords it dealt with the weather, and he +immediately apologized and qualified it. To such a man women are +merciless, and it speedily became an article of faith with the feminine +population of this locality that Ramsden Waters was an unfortunate +incident and did not belong. Finally, after struggling for a time to +keep up a connection in social circles, he gave it up and became a sort +of hermit. + +I think that caricature I just showed you weighed rather heavily on the +poor fellow. Just as he was nerving himself to make another attempt to +enter society, he would catch sight of it and say to himself, "What +hope is there for a man with a face like that?" These caricaturists are +too ready to wound people simply in order to raise a laugh. Personally +I am broad-minded enough to smile at that portrait of myself. It has +given me great enjoyment, though why the committee permits it to--But +then, of course, it isn't a bit like, whereas that of Ramsden Waters +not only gave the man's exact appearance, very little exaggerated, but +laid bare his very soul. That portrait is the portrait of a chump, and +such Ramsden Waters undeniably was. + +By the end of the first year in the neighbourhood, Ramsden, as I say, +had become practically a hermit. He lived all by himself in a house +near the fifteenth green, seeing nobody, going nowhere. His only solace +was golf. His late father had given him an excellent education, and, +even as early as his seventeenth year, I believe, he was going round +difficult courses in par. Yet even this admirable gift, which might +have done him social service, was rendered negligible by the fact that +he was too shy and shrinking to play often with other men. As a rule, +he confined himself to golfing by himself in the mornings and late +evenings when the links were more or less deserted. Yes, in his +twenty-ninth year, Ramsden Waters had sunk to the depth of becoming a +secret golfer. + +One lovely morning in summer, a scented morning of green and blue and +gold, when the birds sang in the trees and the air had that limpid +clearness which makes the first hole look about 100 yards long instead +of 345, Ramsden Waters, alone as ever, stood on the first tee +addressing his ball. For a space he waggled masterfully, then, drawing +his club back with a crisp swish, brought it down. And, as he did so, a +voice behind him cried: + +"Bing!" + +Ramsden's driver wabbled at the last moment. The ball flopped weakly +among the trees on the right of the course. Ramsden turned to perceive, +standing close beside him, a small fat boy in a sailor suit. There was +a pause. + +"Rotten!" said the boy austerely. + +Ramsden gulped. And then suddenly he saw that the boy was not alone. +About a medium approach-putt distance, moving gracefully and languidly +towards him, was a girl of such pronounced beauty that Ramsden Waters's +heart looped the loop twice in rapid succession. It was the first time +that he had seen Eunice Bray, and, like most men who saw her for the +first time, he experienced the sensations of one in an express lift at +the tenth floor going down who has left the majority of his internal +organs up on the twenty-second. He felt a dazed emptiness. The world +swam before his eyes. + +You yourself saw Eunice just now: and, though you are in a sense +immune, being engaged to a charming girl of your own, I noticed that +you unconsciously braced yourself up and tried to look twice as +handsome as nature ever intended you to. You smirked and, if you had a +moustache, you would have twiddled it. You can imagine, then, the +effect which this vision of loveliness had on lonely, diffident Ramsden +Waters. It got right in amongst him. + +"I'm afraid my little brother spoiled your stroke," said Eunice. She +did not speak at all apologetically, but rather as a goddess might have +spoken to a swineherd. + +Ramsden yammered noiselessly. As always in the presence of the opposite +sex, and more than ever now, his vocal cords appeared to have tied +themselves in a knot which would have baffled a sailor and might have +perplexed Houdini. He could not even gargle. + +"He is very fond of watching golf," said the girl. + +She took the boy by the hand, and was about to lead him off, when +Ramsden miraculously recovered speech. + +"Would he like to come round with me?" he croaked. How he had managed +to acquire the nerve to make the suggestion he could never understand. +I suppose that in certain supreme moments a sort of desperate +recklessness descends on nervous men. + +"How very kind of you!" said the girl indifferently. "But I'm afraid----" + +"I want to go!" shrilled the boy. "I want to go!" + +Fond as Eunice Bray was of her little brother, I imagine that the +prospect of having him taken off her hands on a fine summer morning, +when all nature urged her to sit in the shade on the terrace and read a +book, was not unwelcome. + +"It would be very kind of you if you would let him," said Eunice. "He +wasn't able to go to the circus last week, and it was a great +disappointment; this will do instead." + +She turned toward the terrace, and Ramsden, his head buzzing, tottered +into the jungle to find his ball, followed by the boy. + +I have never been able to extract full particulars of that morning's +round from Ramsden. If you speak of it to him, he will wince and change +the subject. Yet he seems to have had the presence of mind to pump +Wilberforce as to the details of his home life, and by the end of the +round he had learned that Eunice and her brother had just come to visit +an aunt who lived in the neighbourhood. Their house was not far from +the links; Eunice was not engaged to be married; and the aunt made a +hobby of collecting dry seaweed, which she pressed and pasted in an +album. One sometimes thinks that aunts live entirely for pleasure. + +At the end of the round Ramsden staggered on to the terrace, tripping +over his feet, and handed Wilberforce back in good condition. Eunice, +who had just reached the chapter where the hero decides to give up all +for love, thanked him perfunctorily without looking up from her book; +and so ended the first spasm of Ramsden Waters's life romance. + + * * * * * + +There are few things more tragic than the desire of the moth for the +star; and it is a curious fact that the spectacle of a star almost +invariably fills the most sensible moth with thoughts above his +station. No doubt, if Ramsden Waters had stuck around and waited long +enough there might have come his way in the fullness of time some nice, +homely girl with a squint and a good disposition who would have been +about his form. In his modest day dreams he had aspired to nothing +higher. But the sight of Eunice Bray seemed to have knocked all the +sense out of the man. He must have known that he stood no chance of +becoming anything to her other than a handy means of getting rid of +little Wilberforce now and again. Why, the very instant that Eunice +appeared in the place, every eligible bachelor for miles around her +tossed his head with a loud, snorting sound, and galloped madly in her +direction. Dashing young devils they were, handsome, well-knit fellows +with the figures of Greek gods and the faces of movie heroes. Any one +of them could have named his own price from the advertisers of collars. +They were the sort of young men you see standing grandly beside the +full-page picture of the seven-seater Magnifico car in the magazines. +And it was against this field that Ramsden Waters, the man with the +unshuffled face, dared to pit his feeble personality. One weeps. + +Something of the magnitude of the task he had undertaken must have come +home to Ramsden at a very early point in the proceedings. At Eunice's +home, at the hour when women receive callers, he was from the start a +mere unconsidered unit in the mob scene. While his rivals clustered +thickly about the girl, he was invariably somewhere on the outskirts +listening limply to the aunt. I imagine that seldom has any young man +had such golden opportunities of learning all about dried seaweed. +Indeed, by the end of the month Ramsden Waters could not have known +more about seaweed if he had been a deep sea fish. And yet he was not +happy. He was in a position, if he had been at a dinner party and +things had got a bit slow, to have held the table spellbound with the +first hand information about dried seaweed, straight from the stable; +yet nevertheless he chafed. His soul writhed and sickened within him. +He lost weight and went right off his approach shots. I confess that my +heart bled for the man. + +His only consolation was that nobody else, not even the fellows who +worked their way right through the jam and got seats in the front row +where they could glare into her eyes and hang on her lips and all that +sort of thing, seemed to be making any better progress. + +And so matters went on till one day Eunice decided to take up golf. Her +motive for doing this was, I believe, simply because Kitty Manders, who +had won a small silver cup at a monthly handicap, receiving thirty-six, +was always dragging the conversation round to this trophy, and if there +was one firm article in Eunice Bray's simple creed it was that she +would be hanged if she let Kitty, who was by way of being a rival on a +small scale, put anything over on her. I do not defend Eunice, but +women are women, and I doubt if any of them really take up golf in that +holy, quest-of-the-grail spirit which animates men. I have known girls +to become golfers as an excuse for wearing pink jumpers, and one at +least who did it because she had read in the beauty hints in the +evening paper that it made you lissome. Girls will be girls. + +Her first lessons Eunice received from the professional, but after that +she saved money by distributing herself among her hordes of admirers, +who were only too willing to give up good matches to devote themselves +to her tuition. By degrees she acquired a fair skill and a confidence +in her game which was not altogether borne out by results. From Ramsden +Waters she did not demand a lesson. For one thing it never occurred to +her that so poor-spirited a man could be of any use at the game, and +for another Ramsden was always busy tooling round with little +Wilberforce. + +Yet it was with Ramsden that she was paired in the first competition +for which she entered, the annual mixed foursomes. And it was on the +same evening that the list of the draw went up on the notice board that +Ramsden proposed. + +The mind of a man in love works in strange ways. To you and to me there +would seem to be no reason why the fact that Eunice's name and his own +had been drawn out of a hat together should so impress Ramsden, but he +looked on it as an act of God. It seemed to him to draw them close +together, to set up a sort of spiritual affinity. In a word, it acted +on the poor fellow like a tonic, and that very night he went around to +her house, and having, after a long and extremely interesting +conversation with her aunt, contrived to get her alone, coughed eleven +times in a strangled sort of way, and suggested that the wedding bells +should ring out. + +Eunice was more startled than angry. + +"Of course, I'm tremendously complimented, Mr.----" She had to pause to +recall the name. "Mr.----" + +"Waters," said Ramsden, humbly. + +"Of course, yes. Mr. Waters. As I say, it's a great compliment----" + +"Not at all!" + +"A great compliment----" + +"No, no!" murmured Ramsden obsequiously. + +"I wish you wouldn't interrupt!" snapped Eunice with irritation. No +girl likes to have to keep going back and trying over her speeches. +"It's a great compliment, but it is quite impossible." + +"Just as you say, of course," agreed Ramsden. + +"What," demanded Eunice, "have you to offer me? I don't mean money. I +mean something more spiritual. What is there in you, Mr. Walter----" + +"Waters." + +"Mr. Waters. What is there in you that would repay a girl for giving up +the priceless boon of freedom?" + +"I know a lot about dried seaweed," suggested Ramsden hopefully. + +Eunice shook her head. + +"No," she said, "it is quite impossible. You have paid me the greatest +compliment a man can pay a woman, Mr. Waterson----" + +"Waters," said Ramsden. "I'll write it down for you." + +"Please don't trouble. I am afraid we shall never meet again----" + +"But we are partners in the mixed foursomes tomorrow." + +"Oh, yes, so we are!" said Eunice. "Well, mind you play up. I want to +win a cup more than anything on earth." + +"Ah!" said Ramsden, "if only I could win what I want to win more than +anything else on earth! You, I mean," he added, to make his meaning +clear. "If I could win you----" His tongue tied itself in a bow knot +round his uvula, and he could say no more. He moved slowly to the door, +paused with his fingers on the handle for one last look over his +shoulder, and walked silently into the cupboard where Eunice's aunt +kept her collection of dried seaweed. + +His second start was favoured with greater luck, and he found himself +out in the hall, and presently in the cool air of the night, with the +stars shining down on him. Had those silent stars ever shone down on a +more broken-hearted man? Had the cool air of the night ever fanned a +more fevered brow? Ah, yes! Or, rather, ah no! + +There was not a very large entry for the mixed foursomes competition. +In my experience there seldom is. Men are as a rule idealists, and wish +to keep their illusions regarding women intact, and it is difficult for +the most broad-minded man to preserve a chivalrous veneration for the +sex after a woman has repeatedly sliced into the rough and left him a +difficult recovery. Women, too--I am not speaking of the occasional +champions, but of the average woman, the one with the handicap of 33, +who plays in high-heeled shoes--are apt to giggle when they foozle out +of a perfect lie, and this makes for misogyny. Only eight couples +assembled on the tenth tee (where our foursomes matches start) on the +morning after Ramsden Waters had proposed to Eunice. Six of these were +negligible, consisting of males of average skill and young women who +played golf because it kept them out in the fresh air. Looking over the +field, Ramsden felt that the only serious rivalry was to be feared from +Marcella Bingley and her colleague, a 16-handicap youth named George +Perkins, with whom they were paired for the opening round. George was a +pretty indifferent performer, but Marcella, a weather-beaten female +with bobbed hair and the wrists of a welterweight pugilist, had once +appeared in the women's open championship and swung a nasty iron. + +Ramsden watched her drive a nice, clean shot down the middle of the +fairway, and spoke earnestly to Eunice. His heart was in this +competition, for, though the first prize in the mixed foursomes does +not perhaps entitle the winners to a place in the hall of fame, Ramsden +had the soul of the true golfer. And the true golfer wants to win +whenever he starts, whether he is playing in a friendly round or in the +open championship. + +"What we've got to do is to play steadily," he said. "Don't try any +fancy shots. Go for safety. Miss Bingley is a tough proposition, but +George Perkins is sure to foozle a few, and if we play safe we've got +'em cold. The others don't count." + +You notice something odd about this speech. Something in it strikes you +as curious. Precisely. It affected Eunice Bray in the same fashion. In +the first place, it contains forty-four words, some of them of two +syllables, others of even greater length. In the second place, it was +spoken crisply, almost commandingly, without any of that hesitation and +stammering which usually characterized Ramsden Waters's utterances. +Eunice was puzzled. She was also faintly resentful. True, there was not +a word in what he had said that was calculated to bring the blush of +shame to the cheek of modesty; nevertheless, she felt vaguely that +Ramsden Waters had exceeded the limits. She had been prepared for a +gurgling Ramsden Waters, a Ramsden Waters who fell over his large feet +and perspired; but here was a Ramsden Waters who addressed her not +merely as an equal, but with more than a touch of superiority. She eyed +him coldly, but he had turned to speak to little Wilberforce, who was +to accompany them on the round. + +"And you, my lad," said Ramsden curtly, "you kindly remember that this +is a competition, and keep your merry flow of conversation as much as +possible to yourself. You've got a bad habit of breaking into small +talk when a man's addressing the ball." + +"If you think that my brother will be in the way----" began Eunice +coldly. + +"Oh, I don't mind him coming round," said Ramsden, "if he keeps quiet." + +Eunice gasped. She had not played enough golf to understand how that +noblest of games changes a man's whole nature when on the links. She +was thinking of something crushing to say to him, when he advanced to +the tee to drive off. + +He drove a perfect ball, hard and low with a lot of roll. Even Eunice +was impressed. + +"Good shot, partner!" she said. + +Ramsden was apparently unaware that she had spoken. He was gazing down +the fairway with his club over his left shoulder in an attitude almost +identical with that of Sandy McBean in the plate labelled "The +Drive--Correct Finish", to face page twenty-four of his monumental +work, "How to Become a Scratch Player Your First Season by Studying +Photographs". Eunice bit her lip. She was piqued. She felt as if she +had patted the head of a pet lamb, and the lamb had turned and bitten +her in the finger. + +"I said, 'Good shot, partner!'" she repeated coldly. + +"Yes," said Ramsden, "but don't talk. It prevents one concentrating." +He turned to Wilberforce. "And don't let me have to tell you that +again!" he said. + +"Wilberforce has been like a mouse!" + +"That is what I complain of," said Ramsden. "Mice make a beastly +scratching sound, and that's what he was doing when I drove that ball." + +"He was only playing with the sand in the tee box." + +"Well, if he does it again, I shall be reluctantly compelled to take +steps." + +They walked in silence to where the ball had stopped. It was nicely +perched up on the grass, and to have plunked it on to the green with an +iron should have been for any reasonable golfer the work of a moment. +Eunice, however, only succeeded in slicing it feebly into the rough. + +Ramsden reached for his niblick and plunged into the bushes. And, +presently, as if it had been shot up by some convulsion of nature, the +ball, accompanied on the early stages of its journey by about a pound +of mixed mud, grass, and pebbles, soared through the air and fell on +the green. But the mischief had been done. Miss Bingley, putting +forcefully, put the opposition ball down for a four and won the hole. + +Eunice now began to play better, and, as Ramsden was on the top of his +game, a ding-dong race ensued for the remainder of the first nine +holes. The Bingley-Perkins combination, owing to some inspired work by +the female of the species, managed to keep their lead up to the tricky +ravine hole, but there George Perkins, as might have been expected of +him, deposited the ball right in among the rocks, and Ramsden and +Eunice drew level. The next four holes were halved and they reached the +club-house with no advantage to either side. Here there was a pause +while Miss Bingley went to the professional's shop to have a tack put +into the leather of her mashie, which had worked loose. George Perkins +and little Wilberforce, who believed in keeping up their strength, +melted silently away in the direction of the refreshment bar, and +Ramsden and Eunice were alone. + + * * * * * + +The pique which Eunice had felt at the beginning of the game had +vanished by now. She was feeling extremely pleased with her performance +on the last few holes, and would have been glad to go into the matter +fully. Also, she was conscious of a feeling not perhaps of respect so +much as condescending tolerance towards Ramsden. He might be a pretty +minus quantity in a drawing-room or at a dance, but in a bunker or out +in the open with a cleek, Eunice felt, you'd be surprised. She was just +about to address him in a spirit of kindliness, when he spoke. + +"Better keep your brassey in the bag on the next nine," he said. "Stick +to the iron. The great thing is to keep 'em straight!" + +Eunice gasped. Indeed, had she been of a less remarkable beauty one +would have said that she snorted. The sky turned black, and all her +amiability was swept away in a flood of fury. The blood left her face +and surged back in a rush of crimson. You are engaged to be married and +I take it that there exists between you and your _fiancee_ the +utmost love and trust and understanding; but would you have the nerve, +could you summon up the cold, callous gall to tell your Genevieve that +she wasn't capable of using her wooden clubs? I think not. Yet this was +what Ramsden Waters had told Eunice, and the delicately nurtured girl +staggered before the coarse insult. Her refined, sensitive nature was +all churned up. + +Ever since she had made her first drive at golf, she had prided herself +on her use of the wood. Her brother and her brassey were the only +things she loved. And here was this man deliberately.... Eunice choked. + +"Mr. Waters!" + +Before they could have further speech George Perkins and little +Wilberforce ambled in a bloated way out of the clubhouse. + +"I've had three ginger ales," observed the boy. "Where do we go from +here?" + +"Our honour," said Ramsden. "Shoot!" + +Eunice took out her driver without a word. Her little figure was tense +with emotion. She swung vigorously, and pulled the ball far out on to +the fairway of the ninth hole. + +"Even off the tee," said Ramsden, "you had better use an iron. You must +keep 'em straight." + +Their eyes met. Hers were glittering with the fury of a woman scorned. +His were cold and hard. And, suddenly, as she looked at his awful, +pale, set golf face, something seemed to snap in Eunice. A strange +sensation of weakness and humility swept over her. So might the cave +woman have felt when, with her back against a cliff and unable to +dodge, she watched her suitor take his club in the interlocking grip, +and, after a preliminary waggle, start his back swing. + +The fact was that, all her life, Eunice had been accustomed to the +homage of men. From the time she had put her hair up every man she had +met had grovelled before her, and she had acquired a mental attitude +toward the other sex which was a blend of indifference and contempt. +For the cringing specimens who curled up and died all over the +hearthrug if she spoke a cold word to them she had nothing but scorn. +She dreamed wistfully of those brusque cavemen of whom she read in the +novels which she took out of the village circulating library. The +female novelist who was at that time her favourite always supplied with +each chunk of wholesome and invigorating fiction one beetle-browed hero +with a grouch and a scowl, who rode wild horses over the countryside +till they foamed at the mouth, and treated women like dirt. That, +Eunice had thought yearningly, as she talked to youths whose spines +turned to gelatine at one glance from her bright eyes, was the sort of +man she wanted to meet and never seemed to come across. + +Of all the men whose acquaintance she had made recently she had +despised Ramsden Waters most. Where others had grovelled he had tied +himself into knots. Where others had gazed at her like sheep he had +goggled at her like a kicked spaniel. She had only permitted him to +hang round because he seemed so fond of little Wilberforce. And here he +was, ordering her about and piercing her with gimlet eyes, for all the +world as if he were Claude Delamere, in the thirty-second chapter of +"The Man of Chilled Steel", the one where Claude drags Lady Matilda +around the smoking-room by her hair because she gave the rose from her +bouquet to the Italian count. + +She was half-cowed, half-resentful. + +"Mr Winklethorpe told me I was very good with the wooden clubs," she +said defiantly. + +"He's a great kidder," said Ramsden. + +He went down the hill to where his ball lay. Eunice proceeded direct +for the green. Much as she told herself that she hated this man, she +never questioned his ability to get there with his next shot. + +George Perkins, who had long since forfeited any confidence which his +partner might have reposed in him, had topped his drive, leaving Miss +Bingley a difficult second out of a sandy ditch. The hole was halved. + +The match went on. Ramsden won the short hole, laying his ball dead +with a perfect iron shot, but at the next, the long dog-leg hole, Miss +Bingley regained the honour. They came to the last all square. + +As the match had started on the tenth tee, the last hole to be +negotiated was, of course, what in the ordinary run of human affairs is +the ninth, possibly the trickiest on the course. As you know, it is +necessary to carry with one's initial wallop that combination of stream +and lake into which so many well meant drives have flopped. This done, +the player proceeds up the face of a steep slope, to find himself +ultimately on a green which looks like the sea in the storm scene of a +melodrama. It heaves and undulates, and is altogether a nasty thing to +have happen to one at the end of a gruelling match. But it is the first +shot, the drive, which is the real test, for the water and the trees +form a mental hazard of unquestionable toughness. + +George Perkins, as he addressed his ball for the vital stroke, +manifestly wabbled. He was scared to the depths of his craven soul. He +tried to pray, but all he could remember was the hymn for those in +peril on the deep, into which category, he feared, his ball would +shortly fall. Breathing a few bars of this, he swung. There was a +musical click, and the ball, singing over the water like a bird, +breasted the hill like a homing aeroplane and fell in the centre of the +fairway within easy distance of the plateau green. + +"Nice work, partner," said Miss Bingley, speaking for the first and +last time in the course of the proceedings. + +George unravelled himself with a modest simper. He felt like a gambler +who has placed his all on a number at roulette and sees the white ball +tumble into the correct compartment. + +Eunice moved to the tee. In the course of the last eight holes the +girl's haughty soul had been rudely harrowed. She had foozled two +drives and three approach shots and had missed a short putt on the last +green but three. She had that consciousness of sin which afflicts the +golfer off his game, that curious self-loathing which humbles the +proudest. Her knees felt weak and all nature seemed to bellow at her +that this was where she was going to blow up with a loud report. + +Even as her driver rose above her shoulder she was acutely aware that +she was making eighteen out of the twenty-three errors which complicate +the drive at golf. She knew that her head had swayed like some +beautiful flower in a stiff breeze. The heel of her left foot was +pointing down the course. Her grip had shifted, and her wrists felt +like sticks of boiled asparagus. As the club began to descend she +perceived that she had underestimated the total of her errors. And when +the ball, badly topped, bounded down the slope and entered the muddy +water like a timid diver on a cold morning she realized that she had a +full hand. There are twenty-three things which it is possible to do +wrong in the drive, and she had done them all. + +Silently Ramsden Waters made a tee and placed thereon a new ball. He +was a golfer who rarely despaired, but he was playing three, and his +opponents' ball would undoubtedly be on the green, possibly even dead, +in two. Nevertheless, perhaps, by a supreme drive, and one or two +miracles later on, the game might be saved. He concentrated his whole +soul on the ball. + +I need scarcely tell you that Ramsden Waters pressed.... + +Swish came the driver. The ball, fanned by the wind, rocked a little on +the tee, then settled down in its original position. Ramsden Waters, +usually the most careful of players, had missed the globe. + +For a moment there was a silence--a silence which Ramsden had to strive +with an effort almost physically painful not to break. Rich oaths +surged to his lips, and blistering maledictions crashed against the +back of his clenched teeth. + +The silence was broken by little Wilberforce. + +One can only gather that there lurks in the supposedly innocuous amber +of ginger ale an elevating something which the temperance reformers +have overlooked. Wilberforce Bray had, if you remember, tucked away no +fewer than three in the spot where they would do most good. One +presumes that the child, with all that stuff surging about inside him, +had become thoroughly above himself. He uttered a merry laugh. + +"Never hit it!" said little Wilberforce. + +He was kneeling beside the tee box as he spoke, and now, as one who has +seen all that there is to be seen and turns, sated, to other +amusements, he moved round and began to play with the sand. The +spectacle of his alluring trouser seat was one which a stronger man +would have found it hard to resist. To Ramsden Waters it had the aspect +of a formal invitation. For one moment his number II golf shoe, as +supplied to all the leading professionals, wavered in mid-air, then +crashed home. + +Eunice screamed. + +"How dare you kick my brother!" + +Ramsden faced her, stern and pale. + +"Madam," he said, "in similar circumstances I would have kicked the +Archangel Gabriel!" + +Then, stooping to his ball, he picked it up. + +"The match is yours," he said to Miss Bingley, who, having paid no +attention at all to the drama which had just concluded, was practising +short chip shots with her mashie-niblick. + +He bowed coldly to Eunice, cast one look of sombre satisfaction at +little Wilberforce, who was painfully extricating himself from a bed of +nettles into which he had rolled, and strode off. He crossed the bridge +over the water and stalked up the hill. + +Eunice watched him go, spellbound. Her momentary spurt of wrath at the +kicking of her brother had died away, and she wished she had thought of +doing it herself. + +How splendid he looked, she felt, as she watched Ramsden striding up to +the club-house--just like Carruthers Mordyke after he had flung +Ermyntrude Vanstone from him in chapter forty-one of "Gray Eyes That +Gleam". Her whole soul went out to him. This was the sort of man she +wanted as a partner in life. How grandly he would teach her to play +golf. It had sickened her when her former instructors, prefacing their +criticism with glutinous praise, had mildly suggested that some people +found it a good thing to keep the head still when driving and that +though her methods were splendid it might be worth trying. They had +spoken of her keeping her eye on the ball as if she were doing the ball +a favour. What she wanted was a great, strong, rough brute of a fellow +who would tell her not to move her damned head; a rugged Viking of a +chap who, if she did not keep her eye on the ball, would black it for +her. And Ramsden Waters was such a one. He might not look like a +Viking, but after all it is the soul that counts and, as this +afternoon's experience had taught her, Ramsden Waters had a soul that +seemed to combine in equal proportions the outstanding characteristics +of Nero, a wildcat, and the second mate of a tramp steamer. + + * * * * * + +That night Ramsden Walters sat in his study, a prey to the gloomiest +emotions. The gold had died out of him by now, and he was reproaching +himself bitterly for having ruined for ever his chance of winning the +only girl he had ever loved. How could she forgive him for his +brutality? How could she overlook treatment which would have caused +comment in the stokehold of a cattle ship? He groaned and tried to +forget his sorrows by forcing himself to read. + +But the choicest thoughts of the greatest writers had no power to grip +him. He tried Vardon "On the Swing", and the words swam before his +eyes. He turned to Taylor "On the Chip Shot", and the master's pure +style seemed laboured and involved. He found solace neither in Braid +"On the Pivot" nor in Duncan "On the Divot". He was just about to give +it up and go to bed though it was only nine o'clock, when the telephone +bell rang. + +"Hello!" + +"Is that you, Mr. Waters? This is Eunice Bray." The receiver shook in +Ramsden's hand. "I've just remembered. Weren't we talking about +something last night? Didn't you ask me to marry you or something? I +know it was something." + +Ramsden gulped three times. + +"I did," he replied hollowly. + +"We didn't settle anything, did we?" + +"Eh?" + +"I say, we sort of left it kind of open." + +"Yuk!" + +"Well, would it bore you awfully," said Eunice's soft voice, "to come +round now and go on talking it over?" + +Ramsden tottered. + +"We shall be quite alone," said Eunice. "Little Wilberforce has gone to +bed with a headache." + +Ramsden paused a moment to disentangle his tongue from the back of his +neck. + +"I'll be right over!" he said huskily. + + + + +10 + +_The Coming of Gowf_ + + +PROLOGUE + +After we had sent in our card and waited for a few hours in the marbled +ante-room, a bell rang and the major-domo, parting the priceless +curtains, ushered us in to where the editor sat writing at his desk. We +advanced on all fours, knocking our head reverently on the Aubusson +carpet. + +"Well?" he said at length, laying down his jewelled pen. + +"We just looked in," we said, humbly, "to ask if it would be all right +if we sent you an historical story." + +"The public does not want historical stories," he said, frowning +coldly. + +"Ah, but the public hasn't seen one of ours!" we replied. + +The editor placed a cigarette in a holder presented to him by a +reigning monarch, and lit it with a match from a golden box, the gift +of the millionaire president of the Amalgamated League of Working +Plumbers. + +"What this magazine requires," he said, "is red-blooded, +one-hundred-per-cent dynamic stuff, palpitating with warm human +interest and containing a strong, poignant love-motive." + +"That," we replied, "is us all over, Mabel." + +"What I need at the moment, however, is a golf story." + +"By a singular coincidence, ours is a golf story." + +"Ha! say you so?" said the editor, a flicker of interest passing over +his finely-chiselled features. "Then you may let me see it." + +He kicked us in the face, and we withdrew. + + +THE STORY + +On the broad terrace outside his palace, overlooking the fair expanse +of the Royal gardens, King Merolchazzar of Oom stood leaning on the low +parapet, his chin in his hand and a frown on his noble face. The day +was fine, and a light breeze bore up to him from the garden below a +fragrant scent of flowers. But, for all the pleasure it seemed to give +him, it might have been bone-fertilizer. + +The fact is, King Merolchazzar was in love, and his suit was not +prospering. Enough to upset any man. + +Royal love affairs in those days were conducted on the correspondence +system. A monarch, hearing good reports of a neighbouring princess, +would despatch messengers with gifts to her Court, beseeching an +interview. The Princess would name a date, and a formal meeting would +take place; after which everything usually buzzed along pretty +smoothly. But in the case of King Merolchazzar's courtship of the +Princess of the Outer Isles there had been a regrettable hitch. She had +acknowledged the gifts, saying that they were just what she had wanted +and how had he guessed, and had added that, as regarded a meeting, she +would let him know later. Since that day no word had come from her, and +a gloomy spirit prevailed in the capital. At the Courtiers' Club, the +meeting-place of the aristocracy of Oom, five to one in _pazazas_ +was freely offered against Merolchazzar's chances, but found no takers; +while in the taverns of the common people, where less conservative odds +were always to be had, you could get a snappy hundred to eight. "For in +good sooth," writes a chronicler of the time on a half-brick and a +couple of paving-stones which have survived to this day, "it did indeed +begin to appear as though our beloved monarch, the son of the sun and +the nephew of the moon, had been handed the bitter fruit of the +citron." + +The quaint old idiom is almost untranslatable, but one sees what he +means. + + * * * * * + +As the King stood sombrely surveying the garden, his attention was +attracted by a small, bearded man with bushy eyebrows and a face like a +walnut, who stood not far away on a gravelled path flanked by rose +bushes. For some minutes he eyed this man in silence, then he called to +the Grand Vizier, who was standing in the little group of courtiers and +officials at the other end of the terrace. The bearded man, apparently +unconscious of the Royal scrutiny, had placed a rounded stone on the +gravel, and was standing beside it making curious passes over it with +his hoe. It was this singular behaviour that had attracted the King's +attention. Superficially it seemed silly, and yet Merolchazzar had a +curious feeling that there was a deep, even a holy, meaning behind the +action. + +"Who," he inquired, "is that?" + +"He is one of your Majesty's gardeners," replied the Vizier. + +"I don't remember seeing him before. Who is he?" + +The Vizier was a kind-hearted man, and he hesitated for a moment. + +"It seems a hard thing to say of anyone, your Majesty," he replied, +"but he is a Scotsman. One of your Majesty's invincible admirals +recently made a raid on the inhospitable coast of that country at a +spot known to the natives as S'nandrews and brought away this man." + +"What does he think he's doing?" asked the King, as the bearded one +slowly raised the hoe above his right shoulder, slightly bending the +left knee as he did so. + +"It is some species of savage religious ceremony, your Majesty. +According to the admiral, the dunes by the seashore where he landed +were covered with a multitude of men behaving just as this man is +doing. They had sticks in their hands and they struck with these at +small round objects. And every now and again----" + +"Fo-o-ore!" called a gruff voice from below. + +"And every now and again," went on the Vizier, "they would utter the +strange melancholy cry which you have just heard. It is a species of +chant." + +The Vizier broke off. The hoe had descended on the stone, and the +stone, rising in a graceful arc, had sailed through the air and fallen +within a foot of where the King stood. + +"Hi!" exclaimed the Vizier. + +The man looked up. + +"You mustn't do that! You nearly hit his serene graciousness the King!" + +"Mphm!" said the bearded man, nonchalantly, and began to wave his hoe +mystically over another stone. + +Into the King's careworn face there had crept a look of interest, +almost of excitement. + +"What god does he hope to propitiate by these rites?" he asked. + +"The deity, I learn from your Majesty's admiral is called Gowf." + +"Gowf? Gowf?" King Merolchazzar ran over in his mind the muster-roll of +the gods of Oom. There were sixty-seven of them, but Gowf was not of +their number. "It is a strange religion," he murmured. "A strange +religion, indeed. But, by Belus, distinctly attractive. I have an idea +that Oom could do with a religion like that. It has a zip to it. A sort +of fascination, if you know what I mean. It looks to me extraordinarily +like what the Court physician ordered. I will talk to this fellow and +learn more of these holy ceremonies." + +And, followed by the Vizier, the King made his way into the garden. The +Vizier was now in a state of some apprehension. He was exercised in his +mind as to the effect which the embracing of a new religion by the King +might have on the formidable Church party. It would be certain to cause +displeasure among the priesthood; and in those days it was a ticklish +business to offend the priesthood, even for a monarch. And, if +Merolchazzar had a fault, it was a tendency to be a little tactless in +his dealings with that powerful body. Only a few mornings back the High +Priest of Hec had taken the Vizier aside to complain about the quality +of the meat which the King had been using lately for his sacrifices. He +might be a child in worldly matters, said the High Priest, but if the +King supposed that he did not know the difference between home-grown +domestic and frozen imported foreign, it was time his Majesty was +disabused of the idea. If, on top of this little unpleasantness, King +Merolchazzar were to become an adherent of this new Gowf, the Vizier +did not know what might not happen. + +The King stood beside the bearded foreigner, watching him closely. The +second stone soared neatly on to the terrace. Merolchazzar uttered an +excited cry. His eyes were glowing, and he breathed quickly. + +"It doesn't look difficult," he muttered. + +"Hoo's!" said the bearded man. + +"I believe I could do it," went on the King, feverishly. "By the eight +green gods of the mountain, I believe I could! By the holy fire that +burns night and day before the altar of Belus, I'm _sure_ I could! +By Hec, I'm going to do it now! Gimme that hoe!" + +"Toots!" said the bearded man. + +It seemed to the King that the fellow spoke derisively, and his blood +boiled angrily. He seized the hoe and raised it above his shoulder, +bracing himself solidly on widely-parted feet. His pose was an exact +reproduction of the one in which the Court sculptor had depicted him +when working on the life-size statue ("Our Athletic King") which stood +in the principal square of the city; but it did not impress the +stranger. He uttered a discordant laugh. + +"Ye puir gonuph!" he cried, "whitkin' o' a staunce is that?" + +The King was hurt. Hitherto the attitude had been generally admired. + +"It's the way I always stand when killing lions," he said. "'In killing +lions,'" he added, quoting from the well-known treatise of Nimrod, the +recognized text-book on the sport, "'the weight at the top of the swing +should be evenly balanced on both feet.'" + +"Ah, weel, ye're no killing lions the noo. Ye're gowfing." + +A sudden humility descended upon the King. He felt, as so many men were +to feel in similar circumstances in ages to come, as though he were a +child looking eagerly for guidance to an all-wise master--a child, +moreover, handicapped by water on the brain, feet three sizes too large +for him, and hands consisting mainly of thumbs. + +"O thou of noble ancestors and agreeable disposition!" he said, humbly. +"Teach me the true way." + +"Use the interlocking grup and keep the staunce a wee bit open and slow +back, and dinna press or sway the heid and keep yer e'e on the ba'." + +"My which on the what?" said the King, bewildered. + +"I fancy, your Majesty," hazarded the Vizier, "that he is respectfully +suggesting that your serene graciousness should deign to keep your eye +on the ball." + +"Oh, ah!" said the King. + +The first golf lesson ever seen in the kingdom of Oom had begun. + + * * * * * + +Up on the terrace, meanwhile, in the little group of courtiers and +officials, a whispered consultation was in progress. Officially, the +King's unfortunate love affair was supposed to be a strict secret. But +you know how it is. These things get about. The Grand Vizier tells the +Lord High Chamberlain; the Lord High Chamberlain whispers it in +confidence to the Supreme Hereditary Custodian of the Royal Pet Dog; +the Supreme Hereditary Custodian hands it on to the Exalted Overseer of +the King's Wardrobe on the understanding that it is to go no farther; +and, before you know where you are, the varlets and scurvy knaves are +gossiping about it in the kitchens, and the Society journalists have +started to carve it out on bricks for the next issue of _Palace +Prattlings_. + +"The long and short of it is," said the Exalted Overseer of the King's +Wardrobe, "we must cheer him up." + +There was a murmur of approval. In those days of easy executions it was +no light matter that a monarch should be a prey to gloom. + +"But how?" queried the Lord High Chamberlain. + +"I know," said the Supreme Hereditary Custodian of the Royal Pet Dog. +"Try him with the minstrels." + +"Here! Why us?" protested the leader of the minstrels. + +"Don't be silly!" said the Lord High Chamberlain. "It's for your good +just as much as ours. He was asking only last night why he never got +any music nowadays. He told me to find out whether you supposed he paid +you simply to eat and sleep, because if so he knew what to do about +it." + +"Oh, in that case!" The leader of the minstrels started nervously. +Collecting his assistants and tip-toeing down the garden, he took up +his stand a few feet in Merolchazzar's rear, just as that much-enduring +monarch, after twenty-five futile attempts, was once more addressing +his stone. + +Lyric writers in those days had not reached the supreme pitch of +excellence which has been produced by modern musical comedy. The art +was in its infancy then, and the best the minstrels could do was +this--and they did it just as Merolchazzar, raising the hoe with +painful care, reached the top of his swing and started down: + + _"Oh, tune the string and let us sing + Our godlike, great, and glorious King! + He's a bear! He's a bear! He's a bear!"_ + +There were sixteen more verses, touching on their ruler's prowess in +the realms of sport and war, but they were not destined to be sung on +that circuit. King Merolchazzar jumped like a stung bullock, lifted his +head, and missed the globe for the twenty-sixth time. He spun round on +the minstrels, who were working pluckily through their song of praise: + + _"Oh, may his triumphs never cease! + He has the strength of ten! + First in war, first in peace, + First in the hearts of his countrymen."_ + +"Get out!" roared the King. + +"Your Majesty?" quavered the leader of the minstrels. + +"Make a noise like an egg and beat it!" (Again one finds the +chronicler's idiom impossible to reproduce in modern speech, and must +be content with a literal translation.) "By the bones of my ancestors, +it's a little hard! By the beard of the sacred goat, it's tough! What +in the name of Belus and Hec do you mean, you yowling misfits, by +starting that sort of stuff when a man's swinging? I was just shaping +to hit it right that time when you butted in, you----" + +The minstrels melted away. The bearded man patted the fermenting +monarch paternally on the shoulder. + +"Ma mannie," he said, "ye may no' be a gowfer yet, but hoots! ye're +learning the language fine!" + +King Merolchazzar's fury died away. He simpered modestly at these words +of commendation, the first his bearded preceptor had uttered. With +exemplary patience he turned to address the stone for the +twenty-seventh time. + +That night it was all over the city that the King had gone crazy over a +new religion, and the orthodox shook their heads. + + * * * * * + +We of the present day, living in the midst of a million marvels of a +complex civilization, have learned to adjust ourselves to conditions +and to take for granted phenomena which in an earlier and less advanced +age would have caused the profoundest excitement and even alarm. We +accept without comment the telephone, the automobile, and the wireless +telegraph, and we are unmoved by the spectacle of our fellow human +beings in the grip of the first stages of golf fever. Far otherwise was +it with the courtiers and officials about the Palace of Oom. The +obsession of the King was the sole topic of conversation. + +Every day now, starting forth at dawn and returning only with the +falling of darkness, Merolchazzar was out on the Linx, as the outdoor +temple of the new god was called. In a luxurious house adjoining this +expanse the bearded Scotsman had been installed, and there he could be +found at almost any hour of the day fashioning out of holy wood the +weird implements indispensable to the new religion. As a recognition of +his services, the King had bestowed upon him a large pension, +innumerable _kaddiz_ or slaves, and the title of Promoter of the +King's Happiness, which for the sake of convenience was generally +shortened to The Pro. + +At present, Oom being a conservative country, the worship of the new +god had not attracted the public in great numbers. In fact, except for +the Grand Vizier, who, always a faithful follower of his sovereign's +fortunes, had taken to Gowf from the start, the courtiers held aloof to +a man. But the Vizier had thrown himself into the new worship with such +vigour and earnestness that it was not long before he won from the King +the title of Supreme Splendiferous Maintainer of the Twenty-Four +Handicap Except on Windy Days when It Goes Up to Thirty--a title which +in ordinary conversation was usually abbreviated to The Dub. + +All these new titles, it should be said, were, so far as the courtiers +were concerned, a fruitful source of discontent. There were black looks +and mutinous whispers. The laws of precedence were being disturbed, and +the courtiers did not like it. It jars a man who for years has had his +social position all cut and dried--a man, to take an instance at +random, who, as Second Deputy Shiner of the Royal Hunting Boots, knows +that his place is just below the Keeper of the Eel-Hounds and just +above the Second Tenor of the Corps of Minstrels--it jars him, we say, +to find suddenly that he has got to go down a step in favour of the +Hereditary Bearer of the King's Baffy. + +But it was from the priesthood that the real, serious opposition was to +be expected. And the priests of the sixty-seven gods of Oom were up in +arms. As the white-bearded High Priest of Hec, who by virtue of his +office was generally regarded as leader of the guild, remarked in a +glowing speech at an extraordinary meeting of the Priests' Equity +Association, he had always set his face against the principle of the +Closed Shop hitherto, but there were moments when every thinking man +had to admit that enough was sufficient, and it was his opinion that +such a moment had now arrived. The cheers which greeted the words +showed how correctly he had voiced popular sentiment. + + * * * * * + +Of all those who had listened to the High Priest's speech, none had +listened more intently than the King's half-brother, Ascobaruch. A +sinister, disappointed man, this Ascobaruch, with mean eyes and a +crafty smile. All his life he had been consumed with ambition, and +until now it had looked as though he must go to his grave with this +ambition unfulfilled. All his life he had wanted to be King of Oom, and +now he began to see daylight. He was sufficiently versed in Court +intrigues to be aware that the priests were the party that really +counted, the source from which all successful revolutions sprang. And +of all the priests the one that mattered most was the venerable High +Priest of Hec. + +It was to this prelate, therefore, that Ascobaruch made his way at the +close of the proceedings. The meeting had dispersed after passing a +unanimous vote of censure on King Merolchazzar, and the High Priest was +refreshing himself in the vestry--for the meeting had taken place in +the Temple of Hec--with a small milk and honey. + +"Some speech!" began Ascobaruch in his unpleasant, crafty way. None +knew better than he the art of appealing to human vanity. + +The High Priest was plainly gratified. + +"Oh, I don't know," he said, modestly. + +"Yessir!" said Ascobaruch. "Considerable oration! What I can never +understand is how you think up all these things to say. I couldn't do +it if you paid me. The other night I had to propose the Visitors at the +Old Alumni dinner of Oom University, and my mind seemed to go all +blank. But you just stand up and the words come fluttering out of you +like bees out of a barn. I simply cannot understand it. The thing gets +past me." + +"Oh, it's just a knack." + +"A divine gift, I should call it." + +"Perhaps you're right," said the High Priest, finishing his milk and +honey. He was wondering why he had never realized before what a capital +fellow Ascobaruch was. + +"Of course," went on Ascobaruch, "you had an excellent subject. I mean +to say, inspiring and all that. Why, by Hec, even I--though, of course, +I couldn't have approached your level--even I could have done something +with a subject like that. I mean, going off and worshipping a new god +no one has ever heard of. I tell you, my blood fairly boiled. Nobody +has a greater respect and esteem for Merolchazzar than I have, but I +mean to say, what! Not right, I mean, going off worshipping gods no one +has ever heard of! I'm a peaceable man, and I've made it a rule never +to mix in politics, but if you happened to say to me as we were sitting +here, just as one reasonable man to another--if you happened to say, +'Ascobaruch, I think it's time that definite steps were taken,' I +should reply frankly, 'My dear old High Priest, I absolutely agree with +you, and I'm with you all the way.' You might even go so far as to +suggest that the only way out of the muddle was to assassinate +Merolchazzar and start with a clean slate." + +The High Priest stroked his beard thoughtfully. + +"I am bound to say I never thought of going quite so far as that." + +"Merely a suggestion, of course," said Ascobaruch. "Take it or leave +it. I shan't be offended. If you know a superior excavation, go to it. +But as a sensible man--and I've always maintained that you are the most +sensible man in the country--you must see that it would be a solution. +Merolchazzar has been a pretty good king, of course. No one denies +that. A fair general, no doubt, and a plus-man at lion-hunting. But, +after all--look at it fairly--is life all battles and lion-hunting? +Isn't there a deeper side? Wouldn't it be better for the country to +have some good orthodox fellow who has worshipped Hec all his life, and +could be relied on to maintain the old beliefs--wouldn't the fact that +a man like that was on the throne be likely to lead to more general +prosperity? There are dozens of men of that kind simply waiting to be +asked. Let us say, purely for purposes of argument, that you approached +_me_. I should reply, 'Unworthy though I know myself to be of such +an honour, I can tell you this. If you put me on the throne, you can +bet your bottom _pazaza_ that there's one thing that won't suffer, +and that is the worship of Hec!' That's the way I feel about it." + +The High Priest pondered. + +"O thou of unshuffled features but amiable disposition!" he said, "thy +discourse soundeth good to me. Could it be done?" + +"Could it!" Ascobaruch uttered a hideous laugh. "Could it! Arouse me in +the night-watches and ask me! Question me on the matter, having stopped +me for that purpose on the public highway! What I would suggest--I'm +not dictating, mind you; merely trying to help you out--what I would +suggest is that you took that long, sharp knife of yours, the one you +use for the sacrifices, and toddled out to the Linx--you're sure to +find the King there; and just when he's raising that sacrilegious stick +of his over his shoulder----" + +"O man of infinite wisdom," cried the High Priest, warmly, "verily hast +them spoken a fullness of the mouth!" + +"Is it a wager?" said Ascobaruch. + +"It is a wager!" said the High Priest. + +"That's that, then," said Ascobaruch. "Now, I don't want to be mixed up +in any unpleasantness, so what I think I'll do while what you might +call the preliminaries are being arranged is to go and take a little +trip abroad somewhere. The Middle Lakes are pleasant at this time of +year. When I come back, it's possible that all the formalities will +have been completed, yes?" + +"Rely on me, by Hec!" said the High Priest grimly, as he fingered his +weapon. + + * * * * * + +The High Priest was as good as his word. Early on the morrow he made +his way to the Linx, and found the King holing-out on the second green. +Merolchazzar was in high good humour. + +"Greetings, O venerable one!" he cried, jovially. "Hadst thou come a +moment sooner, them wouldst have seen me lay my ball dead--aye, dead as +mutton, with the sweetest little half-mashie-niblick chip-shot ever +seen outside the sacred domain of S'nandrew, on whom"--he bared his +head reverently--"be peace! In one under bogey did I do the hole--yea, +and that despite the fact that, slicing my drive, I became ensnared in +yonder undergrowth." + +The High Priest had not the advantage of understanding one word of what +the King was talking about, but he gathered with satisfaction that +Merolchazzar was pleased and wholly without suspicion. He clasped an +unseen hand more firmly about the handle of his knife, and accompanied +the monarch to the next altar. Merolchazzar stooped, and placed a small +round white object on a little mound of sand. In spite of his austere +views, the High Priest, always a keen student of ritual, became +interested. + +"Why does your Majesty do that?" + +"I tee it up that it may fly the fairer. If I did not, then would it be +apt to run a long the ground like a beetle instead of soaring like a +bird, and mayhap, for thou seest how rough and tangled is the grass +before us, I should have to use a niblick for my second." + +The High Priest groped for his meaning. + +"It is a ceremony to propitiate the god and bring good luck?" + +"You might call it that." + +The High Priest shook his head. + +"I may be old-fashioned," he said, "but I should have thought that, to +propitiate a god, it would have been better to have sacrificed one of +these _kaddiz_ on his altar." + +"I confess," replied the King, thoughtfully, "that I have often felt +that it would be a relief to one's feelings to sacrifice one or two +_kaddiz_, but The Pro for some reason or other has set his face +against it." He swung at the ball, and sent it forcefully down the +fairway. "By Abe, the son of Mitchell," he cried, shading his eyes, "a +bird of a drive! How truly is it written in the book of the prophet +Vadun, 'The left hand applieth the force, the right doth but guide. +Grip not, therefore, too closely with the right hand!' Yesterday I was +pulling all the time." + +The High Priest frowned. + +"It is written in the sacred book of Hec, your Majesty, 'Thou shalt not +follow after strange gods'." + +"Take thou this stick, O venerable one," said the King, paying no +attention to the remark, "and have a shot thyself. True, thou art well +stricken in years, but many a man has so wrought that he was able to +give his grandchildren a stroke a hole. It is never too late to begin." + +The High Priest shrank back, horrified. The King frowned. + +"It is our Royal wish," he said, coldly. + +The High Priest was forced to comply. Had they been alone, it is +possible that he might have risked all on one swift stroke with his +knife, but by this time a group of _kaddiz_ had drifted up, and +were watching the proceedings with that supercilious detachment so +characteristic of them. He took the stick and arranged his limbs as the +King directed. + +"Now," said Merolchazzar, "slow back and keep your e'e on the ba'!" + + * * * * * + +A month later, Ascobaruch returned from his trip. He had received no +word from the High Priest announcing the success of the revolution, but +there might be many reasons for that. It was with unruffled contentment +that he bade his charioteer drive him to the palace. He was glad to get +back, for after all a holiday is hardly a holiday if you have left your +business affairs unsettled. + +As he drove, the chariot passed a fair open space, on the outskirts of +the city. A sudden chill froze the serenity of Ascobaruch's mood. He +prodded the charioteer sharply in the small of the back. + +"What is that?" he demanded, catching his breath. + +All over the green expanse could be seen men in strange robes, moving +to and fro in couples and bearing in their hands mystic wands. Some +searched restlessly in the bushes, others were walking briskly in the +direction of small red flags. A sickening foreboding of disaster fell +upon Ascobaruch. + +The charioteer seemed surprised at the question. + +"Yon's the muneecipal linx," he replied. + +"The what?" + +"The muneecipal linx." + +"Tell me, fellow, why do you talk that way?" + +"Whitway?" + +"Why, like that. The way you're talking." + +"Hoots, mon!" said the charioteer. "His Majesty King Merolchazzar--may +his handicap decrease!--hae passit a law that a' his soobjects shall do +it. Aiblins, 'tis the language spoken by The Pro, on whom be peace! +Mphm!" + +Ascobaruch sat back limply, his head swimming. The chariot drove on, +till now it took the road adjoining the royal Linx. A wall lined a +portion of this road, and suddenly, from behind this wall, there rent +the air a great shout of laughter. + +"Pull up!" cried Ascobaruch to the charioteer. + +He had recognized that laugh. It was the laugh of Merolchazzar. + +Ascobaruch crept to the wall and cautiously poked his head over it. The +sight he saw drove the blood from his face and left him white and +haggard. + +The King and the Grand Vizier were playing a foursome against the Pro +and the High Priest of Hec, and the Vizier had just laid the High +Priest a dead stymie. + +Ascobaruch tottered to the chariot. + +"Take me back," he muttered, pallidly. "I've forgotten something!" + + * * * * * + +And so golf came to Oom, and with it prosperity unequalled in the whole +history of the land. Everybody was happy. There was no more +unemployment. Crime ceased. The chronicler repeatedly refers to it in +his memoirs as the Golden Age. And yet there remained one man on whom +complete felicity had not descended. It was all right while he was +actually on the Linx, but there were blank, dreary stretches of the +night when King Merolchazzar lay sleepless on his couch and mourned +that he had nobody to love him. + +Of course, his subjects loved him in a way. A new statue had been +erected in the palace square, showing him in the act of getting out of +casual water. The minstrels had composed a whole cycle of up-to-date +songs, commemorating his prowess with the mashie. His handicap was down +to twelve. But these things are not all. A golfer needs a loving wife, +to whom he can describe the day's play through the long evenings. And +this was just where Merolchazzar's life was empty. No word had come +from the Princess of the Outer Isles, and, as he refused to be put off +with just-as-good substitutes, he remained a lonely man. + +But one morning, in the early hours of a summer day, as he lay sleeping +after a disturbed night, Merolchazzar was awakened by the eager hand of +the Lord High Chamberlain, shaking his shoulder. + +"Now what?" said the King. + +"Hoots, your Majesty! Glorious news! The Princess of the Outer Isles +waits without--I mean wi'oot!" + +The King sprang from his couch. + +"A messenger from the Princess at last!" + +"Nay, sire, the Princess herself--that is to say," said the Lord +Chamberlain, who was an old man and had found it hard to accustom +himself to the new tongue at his age, "her ain sel'! And believe me, or +rather, mind ah'm telling ye," went on the honest man, joyfully, for he +had been deeply exercised by his monarch's troubles, "her Highness is +the easiest thing to look at these eyes hae ever seen. And you can say +I said it!" + +"She is beautiful?" + +"Your majesty, she is, in the best and deepest sense of the word, a +pippin!" + +King Merolchazzar was groping wildly for his robes. + +"Tell her to wait!" he cried. "Go and amuse her. Ask her riddles! Tell +her anecdotes! Don't let her go. Say I'll be down in a moment. Where in +the name of Zoroaster is our imperial mesh-knit underwear?" + + * * * * * + +A fair and pleasing sight was the Princess of the Outer Isles as she +stood on the terrace in the clear sunshine of the summer morning, +looking over the King's gardens. With her delicate little nose she +sniffed the fragrance of the flowers. Her blue eyes roamed over the +rose bushes, and the breeze ruffled the golden curls about her temples. +Presently a sound behind her caused her to turn, and she perceived a +godlike man hurrying across the terrace pulling up a sock. And at the +sight of him the Princess's heart sang within her like the birds down +in the garden. + +"Hope I haven't kept you waiting," said Merolchazzar, apologetically. +He, too, was conscious of a strange, wild exhilaration. Truly was this +maiden, as his Chamberlain had said, noticeably easy on the eyes. Her +beauty was as water in the desert, as fire on a frosty night, as +diamonds, rubies, pearls, sapphires, and amethysts. + +"Oh, no!" said the princess, "I've been enjoying myself. How passing +beautiful are thy gardens, O King!" + +"My gardens may be passing beautiful," said Merolchazzar, earnestly, +"but they aren't half so passing beautiful as thy eyes. I have dreamed +of thee by night and by day, and I will tell the world I was nowhere +near it! My sluggish fancy came not within a hundred and fifty-seven +miles of the reality. Now let the sun dim his face and the moon hide +herself abashed. Now let the flowers bend their heads and the gazelle +of the mountains confess itself a cripple. Princess, your slave!" + +And King Merolchazzar, with that easy grace so characteristic of +Royalty, took her hand in his and kissed it. + +As he did so, he gave a start of surprise. + +"By Hec!" he exclaimed. "What hast thou been doing to thyself? Thy hand +is all over little rough places inside. Has some malignant wizard laid +a spell upon thee, or what is it?" + +The Princess blushed. + +"If I make that clear to thee," she said, "I shall also make clear why +it was that I sent thee no message all this long while. My time was so +occupied, verily I did not seem to have a moment. The fact is, these +sorenesses are due to a strange, new religion to which I and my +subjects have but recently become converted. And O that I might make +thee also of the true faith! 'Tis a wondrous tale, my lord. Some two +moons back there was brought to my Court by wandering pirates a captive +of an uncouth race who dwell in the north. And this man has taught +us----" + +King Merolchazzar uttered a loud cry. + +"By Tom, the son of Morris! Can this truly be so? What is thy +handicap?" + +The Princess stared at him, wide-eyed. + +"Truly this is a miracle! Art thou also a worshipper of the great +Gowf?" + +"Am I!" cried the King. "Am I!" He broke off. "Listen!" + +From the minstrels' room high up in the palace there came the sound of +singing. The minstrels were practising a new paean of praise--words by +the Grand Vizier, music by the High Priest of Hec--which they were to +render at the next full moon at the banquet of the worshippers of Gowf. +The words came clear and distinct through the still air: + + _"Oh, praises let us utter + To our most glorious King! + It fairly makes you stutter + To see him start his swing! + Success attend his putter! + And luck be with his drive! + And may he do each hole in two, + Although the bogey's five!"_ + +The voices died away. There was a silence. + +"If I hadn't missed a two-foot putt, I'd have done the long fifteenth +in four yesterday," said the King. + +"I won the Ladies' Open Championship of the Outer Isles last week," +said the Princess. + +They looked into each other's eyes for a long moment. And then, hand in +hand, they walked slowly into the palace. + + +EPILOGUE + +"Well?" we said, anxiously. + +"I like it," said the editor. + +"Good egg!" we murmured. + +The editor pressed a bell, a single ruby set in a fold of the tapestry +upon the wall. The major-domo appeared. + +"Give this man a purse of gold," said the editor, "and throw him out." + + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Clicking of Cuthbert, by P. G. Wodehouse + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CLICKING OF CUTHBERT *** + +This file should be named click10.txt or click10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, click11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, click10a.txt + +This eBooks was produced by Suzanne L. Shell, +Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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