"Remember you've got a partner," urged Russell. "Take an iron, there's a good girl."
"Oh, Russell! Do be still; you fuss me so!"
"But, my dear! I'm only trying to help——"
The swish of the brassy cut his explanation neatly in two, and the ball went sailing straight for the distant flag—a very pretty shot for any one to make.
"Oh, a peach!" cried Bill. "A peach!"
"And you," said Mary, turning accusingly to Russell, "you wanted me to take an iron!"
"Because you can keep straighter with an iron," argued Davidson.
"Wasn't that ball straight enough to please you?" asked Mary with just a touch of malice.
"You had luck," was the ungracious response, "but it doesn't follow that all your wooden-club shots will turn out as well. The theory of the mixed foursome is to leave your partner with a chance to hit the ball."
"Oh, dear!" sighed Beth. "Now you're making me feel like a criminal!"