He still had a good many superfluous Hands and Feet and was bleeding freely on every Green.
Sometimes he would last as far as the Water-Hazard and then sink with a
Bubbling Cry.
Notwithstanding which, he kept on trying to look like the Photographs of Ouimet.
If he spun into the High Spinach off at the Right it was Tough Luck. If he whanged away with a Niblick down in a bottomless Pit, caromed on a couple of Oaks, and finally angled off toward the Cup, he would go around for Days talking about Some Shot.
As his Ambition increased, his Mental Arithmetic became more and more defective and his Moral Nature was wholly atrophied.
As an Exponent of the more advanced Play he was a Fliv, but as a
Matchmaker he was a Hum-Dinger.
He knew he was plain pastry for the Sharks, so he would hang around the first Tee waiting to cop out a Pudding.
One day he took on Mrs. Olmstead's Infant Son, just home from Military
School.
The tender Cadet nursed him along to an even-up at the Punch-Bowl and then proceeded to smear his vital Organs all over the Bad Lands.
That evening Mr. Pallzey told her she would have to cut down on
Household Expenses.