Mr. Millington then made a little mound of sand which he took from the green sandbox, and set one of my golf balls on top of the mound. This, I soon learned, is called “teeing” the ball.
“Now,” said Mr. Millington, “I will explain the game. When the ball is teed as you see it here, you take the club and hit the ball so it will travel low and straight through the air as far as possible toward that red flag you see yonder. The ball will alight on the fair green. You follow it, and hit it again, and it should then alight fairly and squarely on the putting-green. You then follow it, take the pole that bears the flag out of the hole you will find there, and gently knock your ball into the hole. That is all there is to the game.”
“But what shall I do,” I asked, “if my first knock at the ball carries it beyond the flag?”
Mr. Millington glanced at the patent putter I held in my hand, and sighed.
“Excuse me,” he said, “but the rules of the game permit one to grasp the club with both hands.”
“I guess,” I said airily, “until I get the swing of it I will grasp the club with one hand. I only use one hand in playing croquet.”
“In that case,” said Mr. Millington, “if you knock the ball past the flag I will eat the flag. I will also eat the ball. Also the thing you call a putter. If you knock the ball half way to the flag, I will eat all the grass on this golf course.”
“Be careful, Millington,” I warned him. “You may have to eat that grass. Now, stand back and let me have a fair whack at the ball.”
With that I swung the putter around my head two or three times, to gather the necessary impetus, and then hit the ball a terrible whack. I put my full strength into the blow, for I wanted to show Millington that I had the making of a golfer in me; but when my putter ceased revolving around me Millington seemed unimpressed. I put my hand above my eyes and gazed into the far distance, hoping to catch sight of the ball when it alighted. But I did not see it.