Daisy made one final effort to avert her downfall, by offering, as they went out that afternoon, to give Lucia a stroke a hole. Lucia said she knew she could do it, but might they, just for fun, play level? And as the round proceeded, Lucia’s kindness was almost intolerable. She could see, she said, that Daisy was completely off her game, when Daisy wasn’t in the least off her game: she said, “Oh, that was bad luck!” when Daisy missed short putts: she begged her to pick her ball out of bushes and not count it.... At half past four Riseholme knew that Daisy had halved four holes and lost the other five. Her short reign as Queen of Golf had come to an end.
The Museum Committee met after tea at Mrs. Boucher’s (Daisy did not hold her golfing-class in the garden that day) and tact, Georgie felt, seemed to indicate that Lucia’s name should not be suggested as a new member of the Committee so swiftly on the heels of Daisy’s disaster. Mrs. Boucher, privately consulted, concurred, though with some rather stinging remarks as to Daisy’s having deceived them all about her golf, and the business of the meeting was chiefly concerned with the proposed closing down of the Museum for the winter. The tourist season was over, no char-a-bancs came any more with visitors, and for three days not a soul had passed the turnstile.
“So where’s the use,” asked Mrs. Boucher, “of paying a boy to let people into the Museum when nobody wants to be let in? I call it throwing money away. Far better close it till the spring, and have no more expense, except to pay him a shilling a week to open the windows and air it, say on Tuesday and Friday, or Wednesday and Saturday.”
“I should suggest Monday and Thursday,” said Daisy, very decisively. If she couldn’t have it all her own way on the links, she could make herself felt on committees.
“Very well, Monday and Thursday,” said Mrs. Boucher. “And then there’s another thing. It’s getting so damp in there, that if you wanted a cold bath, you might undress and stand there. The water’s pouring off the walls. A couple of oil-stoves, I suggest, every day except when it’s being aired. The boy will attend to them, and make it half a crown instead of a shilling. I’m going to Blitton to-morrow, and if that’s your wish I’ll order them. No: I’ll bring them back with me, and I’ll have them lit to-morrow morning. But unless you want to have nothing to show next spring but mildew, don’t let us delay about it. A crop of mildew won’t be sufficient attraction to visitors, and there’ll be nothing else.”
Georgie rapped the table.
“And I vote we take the manuscript of ‘Lucrezia’ out, and that one of us keeps it till we open again,” he said.
“I should be happy to keep it,” said Daisy.
Georgie wanted it himself, but it was better not to thwart Daisy to-day. Besides, he was in a hurry, as Lucia had asked him to bring round his planchette and see if Abfou would not like a little attention. Nobody had talked to Abfou for weeks.
“Very well,” he said, “and if that’s all——”