“I’ve never met the dog yet that I couldn’t master!” she announced proudly. “That old fellow would follow me all round the grounds as meekly as a lamb, if he had the chance!”
“We won’t try him, thank you; he might meet a messenger-boy en route, and we should have to pay the damages. Come along now, and I will show you—” but at this opportune moment Harold came in view, sauntering round the corner of the stable, and Rhoda called to him eagerly, glad to be able to impress him with a sense of Tom’s powers.
“Harold, look here! See what friends Tom has made with Lion already. He lets her do anything that she likes. Isn’t it wonderful?”
“By Jove!” exclaimed Harold, and looked unaffectedly surprised to see his gruff old friend submitting meekly to the stranger’s advances. “Tastes differ!” was the mental comment, but aloud he said suavely, “Lion is a good judge of character. He knows when he has found a friend.”
“Yes, they all recognise me. I was a bulldog in my last incarnation,” said Tom calmly, and by some extraordinary power which she possessed of drawing her mobile features into any shape which she chose, certain it is that she looked marvellously like a bulldog at that moment: twinkling eyes set far apart, heavy mouth, small, impertinent nose, all complete! Harold was so taken aback that he did not know what to say, but Rhoda dragged laughingly at her friend’s arm and cried,—
“Come along! Come along! It will soon be time to go indoors and dress for dinner, and we haven’t done half our round. I was going to take Tom to the links, Harold. She is a great golfer, and will be interested in seeing them. You’ll come too, won’t you?”
“With pleasure. They are just our own tame little links, Miss Bolderston, which we have faked up in the park. You won’t think much of them if you are a player, but they give an opportunity for private practice, and we have some good sport there occasionally.”
“Ah, yes! How many holes?” enquired Tom, sticking one thumb between the buttonholes of her coat, and tilting her head at him with such a businesslike air that he felt embarrassed to be obliged to reply.
“Nine, with a little crossing about; some of the distances are very short, I’m afraid. Still, it has its points, and I’ve played on larger links with less enjoyment. We will take a short cut across here to the first hole. We start here, as you see, and a good full cleek shot should land you on the green. There are only two holes which really give a chance for a driver. Now you can see the second green, but it’s not so easy a hole as it looks from here, for the grass is tussocky, and one almost always gets a bad lie for the approach.”
“Yes, but why not drive for the green?”