“Yes, he did. Giving me a third. But it isn’t being beaten that I mind. What I object to is having the blighter behave as if he were a sort of champion condescending to a mere mortal. Dash it, it seemed to bore him playing with me! Every time I sliced off the tee he looked at me as if I were a painful ordeal. Twice when I was having a bit of trouble in the bushes I caught him yawning. And after we had finished he started talking about what a good game croquet was, and he wondered more people didn’t take it up. And it’s only a month or so ago that I could play the man level!”
The Oldest Member shook his snowy head sadly.
“There is nothing to be done about it,” he said. “We can only hope that the poison will in time work its way out of the man’s system. Sudden success at golf is like the sudden acquisition of wealth. It is apt to unsettle and deteriorate the character. And, as it comes almost miraculously, so only a miracle can effect a cure. The best advice I can give you is to refrain from playing with Nathaniel Frisby till you can keep your tee-shots straight.”
“Oh, but don’t run away with the idea that I wasn’t pretty good off the tee this afternoon!” said the young man. “I should like to describe to you the shot I did on the—”
“Meanwhile,” proceeded the Oldest Member, “I will relate to you a little story which bears on what I have been saying.”
“From the very moment I addressed the ball—”
“It is the story of two loving hearts temporarily estranged owing to the sudden and unforseen proficiency of one of the couple—”
“I waggled quickly and strongly, like Duncan. Then, swinging smoothly back, rather in the Vardon manner—”
“But as I see,” said the Oldest Member, “that you are all impatience for me to begin, I will do so without further preamble.”