“Once in early youth I came to this city and hoped to become a member of a tennis club to which MacKenzie belonged. I knew Mac and schemed to improve our acquaintance in order to help me in. I invited him to lunch, filled him with wine, attempted to talk on literature, and finally told him I was a tennis enthusiast.”
Mr. Bang paused, and Uncle asked mischievously:
“Did he respond?”
“He responded by asking if he might insure my life.”
We roared, that is, save Mr. Bang.
“That was a cold douche which drowned my social ambitions. I reasoned that society that would tolerate such a Yahoo as he had nothing to offer worth having.”
“The girls laugh at him,” said Mumsie.
“Possibly,” replied Mr. Bang, who began to unburden himself further.
“The trouble with most of our sports is that they are, as Uncle says, communal and in the hands of devotees who build them up. Cliques are formed which such people as Townsend and MacKenzie run. Golf is somewhat the exception to this general rule, which possibly accounts for the ever increasing popularity of the game. Golf clubs, generally, make provisions for the admittance of strangers, and, for some reason or other, good-fellowship is more common in golf clubs than in other associations.”
“That’s true,” commented Uncle.