“What am I to do with it?”
“Keep your eye on it—if you can.”
“Until after I have struck the ball?”
“Longer than that. After you’ve played, step forward and plant the sole of your foot on the star. But you won’t be able to do it. Not the first time.”
“I shall,” said the girl with quiet conviction.
Taking her stance, she measured the distance with a careful eye, and sent the ball off with a clean click. Her head remained bent with an almost devotional intentness. She stepped forward and covered the star with that boot which Eli Wade had so warmly praised.
“Good!” approved the instructor. “You’ve got will power.”
“I have needed to have,” replied the girl. Her tone was curiously musing and confidential. “May I look up now?”
“Surely. ‘You’ll like the view.”
The ball, rising high, had landed upon the edge of the green and rolled to within ten feet of the cup.