after a few quite decent strokes,triumphantly holed out. "What next?" said she.
I hastily arranged her ball on the second tee: but the luck of golf isproverbially capricious. She swung her club, and hit nothing. She swungit again, and hit the ground.
"_Why_ can't I do it?" she demanded, turning fiercely upon me.
"You keep losing your feet," I explained deferentially.
"Spare me your detestable slang terms, Laurence, at least!" she cried,turning on me again like a whirlwind. "If you think I have lost mytemper--which is absurd!--you might have the courage to say so in plainEnglish!"
"Oh, no, Aunt Susannah!" I said. "You don't understand----"
"Or want to," she snapped. "Of all silly games----"
"I mean you misunderstood me," I pursued, trembling. "Your foot slipped,and that spoilt your stroke. You should have nails in your boots, as wehave."
"Oh!" said Aunt Susannah, only half pacified. But she succeeded indislodging her ball at last, and driving it into a bunker. At the samemoment, Amanda suddenly clutched me by the arm. "Oh, Laurence!" she saidin a bloodcurdling whisper. "_What_ shall we do? Here is ColonelBartlemy!"
The worst had happened. The hottest-tempered man in the club, the oldestmember, the best player, the greatest stickler for etiquette, was hardupon our track; and Aunt Susannah, with a red and determinedcountenance, was urging her ball up the bunker, and watching it rollback again.
"Dear Auntie," said Amanda, in her sweetest voice, "you had much bettertake it out."
"Is that allowed?" inquired our relative suspiciously.
"Oh, you may always do that and lose a stroke!" I assured her eagerly.
"I shan't dream of losing a stroke!" said Aunt Susannah, with decision."I'll get it out of this ditch by fair means, if I have to spend all dayover it!"
"Then do you mind waiting one moment?" I said, with the calmness ofdespair. "There is a player behind us----"
"Let him stay behind us! I was here first," said Aunt Susannah; and shereturned to her bunker.
The Links rose up in a hillock immediately behind us, so that oursuccessor could not see us until he had reached the first hole. I stoodwith my eye glued to the spot where he might be expected to appear. Isaw, as in a nightmare, the scathing remarks that would find their wayinto the Suggestion Book. I longed for a sudden and easy death.
At the moment when Colonel Bartlemy's rubicund face appeared over thehorizon, Aunt Susannah, flushed but unconquered, drew herself up for amoment's rest from toil. He had seen her. Amanda shut her eyes. Formyself, I would have run away shamelessly, if there had been any placeto run to. The Colonel and Aunt Susannah looked hard at each other. Thenhe began to hurry down the slope, while she started briskly up it.
"Miss Cadwalader!" said the Colonel.
"Colonel Bartlemy!" cried Aunt Susannah; and they met with effusion.
I saw Amanda's eyes open, and grow round with amazed interest. I knewperfectly well that she had scented a bygone love affair, and wasalready planning the most suitable wedding-garb for Aunt Susannah. Afrantic hope came to me that in that case the Colonel's affection mightprove stronger than his zeal for golf. They were strolling down to us ina leisurely manner, and the subject of their conversation broke upon myastonished ears.
"I'm afraid you don't think much of these Links, after yours," ColonelBartlemy was saying anxiously. "They are rather new----"
"Oh, I've played on many worse," said Aunt Susannah, looking round herwith a critical eye. "Let me see--I haven't seen you since your victoryat Craigmory. Congratulations!"
"Approbation from Sir Hubert Stanley!" purred the Colonel, evidentlymuch gratified. "You will be here for the twenty-seventh, I hope?"
"Exactly what I came for," said Aunt Susannah calmly.
"Though I don't know what our ladies will say to playing against theCranford Champion!" chuckled the Colonel; and then they condescended tobecome aware of our existence. We had never known before how exceedinglysmall it is possible to feel.
"Aunt Susannah, what am I to say? What fools you must think us!" Imurmured miserably to her, when the Colonel was out of earshot lookingfor his ball. "We are such raw players ourselves--and of course we neverdreamt----"
Aunt Susannah twinkled at me in a friendly manner. "There's an ancientproverb about eggs and grandmothers," she remarked cheerfully.
"There should be a modern form for golf-balls and aunts--hey, Laurence?"
Amanda did not win the prize brooch; but Aunt Susannah did, in spite ofan overwhelming handicap, and gave it to her. She does not often wearit--possibly because rubies are not becoming to her: possibly becauseits associations are too painful.
* * * * *
THE RETORT COURTEOUS.--(_The Major-General waiting to drive, to girlcarrying baby, who blocks the way_). "Now then, hurry on please withthat baby." _Girl._ "Garn! Baby yerself, playing at ball there inyour knickerbockers an' all!"]
* * * * *
A GOLF TOURNAMENT IN YE TIME OF YE ROMANS
_From a rare old frieze (not) in ye British Museum._]
* * * * *
"Anyway, it's better to break one's ---- clubs than to lose one's -------- temper!!"]
* * * * *
A PLACE FOR EVERYTHING.--_Obstructive Lady (in reply to the golfer'swarning call)._ "The whole world wasn't made for golf, sir."
_Youngster._ "No; but the links _wis_. 'Fore!"]
* * * * *
Unenviable position of Mr. Pottles, whose record drive has just landedfairly in the ribs of irascible old Colonel Curry, out for hisconstitutional canter.]
* * * * *
_Aunt Jabisca (pointing to earnest golfer endeavouring to play out ofquarry)._ "Dear me, Maud, what a respectably dressed man that isbreaking stones!"]
* * * * *
Suggestion for a rainy day. Spillikins on a grand scale.]
* * * * *
GOLF A LA WATTEAU--AND OTHERWISE]
* * * * *
_Major Brummel (comparing the length of his and his opponent's"drives")._ "I think I'm shorter than Mr. Simkins?"
_Small Caddie (a new hand, greatly flattered at being asked, as hethinks, to judge of their personal appearance)._ "Yes, sir, and fatterertoo, sir!"
[_Delight of the gallant Major._]
]
* * * * *
ARRY AT GOLF.]
* * * * *
_Miss Dora (to Major Putter, who is playing an important match, and hasjust lost his ball)._ "Oh, Major, do come and take your horrid ballaway from my little dog. He won't let me touch it, and I know he mustbe ruining his teeth!"]
* * * * *
THE LOST GOLFER
[The sharp decline of ping-pong, whose attractions at its zenith seducedmany golfers from the nobler sport, has left a marked void in thebreasts of these renegades. Some of them from a natural sense of shamehesitate to return to their first love. The conclusion of the followinglines should be an encouragement to this class of prodigal.]
Just for a celluloid pillule he left us, Just for an imbecile batlet and ball, These were the toys by which Fortune bereft us Of Jennings, our captain, the pride of us all. Shopmen with clubs to sell handed him rackets, Rackets of sand-paper, rubber and felt, Said to secure an unplayable service, Pestilent screws and the death-dealing welt. Oft had we played with him, partnered him, sworn by him, Copied his pitches in height and in cut, Hung on his words as he delved in a bunker, Made him our pattern to drive and to putt. Benedick's with us, the major is of us, Swiper the county bat's still going strong; He alone broke from the links and the clubhouse, He alone sank in the slough of ping-pong.
&nbs
p; We have "come on"--but not his the example; Sloe-gin has quickened us--not his the cash; Holes done in 6 where a 4 would be ample Vexed him not, busy perfecting a smash. Rased was his name as a decadent angel, One more mind unhinged by a piffulent game, One more parlour-hero, the worshipped of school-girls Who once had a princely "plus 5" to his name. Jennings is gone; yet perhaps he'll come back to us, Healed of his hideous lesion of brain, Back to the links in the daytime; at twilight Back to his cosy club corner again. Back for the medal