“First of all,” she said, “you are to quarrel with her the night before the finals. Violently.”
“Oh, I say!”
“Second, when she is crushed with defeat you are to extract a promise, an oath if you like, that she is through with golf.”
“You don’t know her,” he said. “Might as well expect her to be through with her right hand.”
But he agreed to think it over and, going out to the lake front, sat for a long time lost in thought. When he came back he agreed, but despondently.
“She may love me after all this,” he said, “but I’m darned if I think she’ll like me.”
But he cheered up later and planned the things they could do when they were both free of golf and had some time to themselves. And Mr. McNab going by at that moment, he made a most disrespectful gesture at his back.
It is painful, in view of what followed, to recall his happiness at that time.
I must confess that Aggie and I were still in the dark as to our part in the tournament. And our confusion as time went on was increased by Tish’s attitude toward her caddie. On her first attempt he had been impertinent enough, goodness knows, and Tish had been obliged to reprove him.
“Your business here, young man,” she said, “is to keep your eye on the ball.”