“I think you were sixteen,” replied Ned carelessly. “You did fairly well, Curt.”
Kendall thought a minute. Then, “Sixteen to your four,” he murmured. “Say, Took—I mean Ned—how many shots would I have taken if I’d done poorly?”
Ned laughed. “You might have taken thirty,” he answered. Then he clapped the disconsolate Kendall on the back. “Cheer up, you’re doing fine. It takes time and we’re all duffers at first.”
“I guess I’ll watch you for a while,” said Kendall sadly.
“I guess you’ll take this driver and come over here and knock the spots off this ball,” answered Ned. “And no mutiny, if you please, Mr. Bendall Kurtis.”
“But—but it must be very tiresome for you,” said Kendall.
“Don’t you worry about me. I’m as happy as a clam as long as I can swing a golf club. Don’t get discouraged, Curt. Remember that Bome wasn’t ruilt in a day.”
“Remember what?” asked Kendall, puzzled.
“Why, that Rome wasn’t duilt in a bay,” answered Ned. “Now then, here we go!”
They played five holes that afternoon, and after that Ned made Kendall practice swinging his club for ten minutes or so at the fifth tee. And then he made him drive several times, always patiently correcting and explaining. When Kendall’s first lesson in golf was finally over he went back to Clarke with an unwonted aching in his arms and shoulders. There was only one more lesson that week, for Ned had to look after the work of the Golf Team. But on Wednesday, Kendall did rather better and was terribly proud and delighted. Ned had insisted on Kendall’s using his spare clubs and suggested that the novice could learn a good deal by playing a few holes alone. Kendall tried that on Thursday and did so poorly, seeming to have lost what little science he had attained, that he went home quite discouraged. On Friday, Ned sought him after school and announced that they were going to Greenburg to have their hair cut.