“Take mine then. They are in the closet over there doing nothing. I hate to open the door and get the reproachful looks they give me! It may be imagination, Harven, but sometimes when I awake at night I could swear that I hear them whimpering. Take them and use them. Break them, if you like. I’m sure a golf club would rather be broken than idle!”
“Thanks, sir, but I don’t believe I’ll try it any more just now. I—I don’t seem to be able to get my mind on it.”
Mr. Moffit sighed. “You’re right then. Don’t try golf when you can’t give it every thought. It’s divided attention on the links that has enriched the men who make golf balls. Well, if not golf, what then?”
Stuart shook his head again. “I’ll find something, sir. I mean to try basket ball later.”
“Don’t wait until later, Harven. Find something at once and put your heart into it. Do you row?”
“No, sir, not much. I can scull a bit.”
“A pleasant diversion, but not absorbing, I fear. Well, think it over and tackle something. And come and see me about the middle of next week and tell me what it is. Will you?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
“Good! And just one more thing, Harven. When you go out of here I want to see you put your shoulders back and hear you whistle!” Mr. Moffit was on his feet and holding his hand out. Apparently the interview was at an end, but the subject of English A had been scarcely touched on, and as Stuart shook hands he said:
“I’ll try to do better in English, Mr. Moffit. I’m sorry——”