The Clicking of Cuthbert

It seemed to James, when he joined Peter on the tenth tee, that the

latter's manner was strange. He was pale. There was a curious look in

his eye.

"James, old man," he said.

"Yes?" said James.

"While you were away I have been thinking. James, old man, do you

really love this girl?"

James stared. A spasm of pain twisted Peter's face.

"Suppose," he said in a low voice, "she were not all you--we--think she

is!"

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing, nothing."

"Miss Forrester is an angel."

"Yes, yes. Quite so."

"I know what it is," said James, passionately. "You're trying to put me

off my stroke. You know that the least thing makes me lose my form."

"No, no!"

"You hope that you can take my mind off the game and make me go to

pieces, and then you'll win the match."

"On the contrary," said Peter. "I intend to forfeit the match."

James reeled.

"What!"

"I give up."

"But--but----" James shook with emotion. His voice quavered. "Ah!" he

cried. "I see now: I understand! You are doing this for me because I am

your pal. Peter, this is noble! This is the sort of thing you read

about in books. I've seen it in the movies. But I can't accept the

sacrifice."

"You must!"

"No, no!"

"I insist!"

"Do you mean this?"

"I give her up, James, old man. I--I hope you will be happy."

"But I don't know what to say. How can I thank you?"

"Don't thank me."

"But, Peter, do you fully realize what you are doing? True, I am one

up, but there are nine holes to go, and I am not right on my game

today. You might easily beat me. Have you forgotten that I once took

forty-seven at the dog-leg hole? This may be one of my bad days. Do you

understand that if you insist on giving up I shall go to Miss Forrester

tonight and propose to her?"

"I understand."

"And yet you stick to it that you are through?"

"I do. And, but the way, there's no need for you to wait till tonight.

I saw Miss Forrester just now outside the tennis court. She's alone."

James turned crimson.

"Then I think perhaps----"

"You'd better go to her at once."

"I will." James extended his hand. "Peter, old man, I shall never

forget this."

"That's all right."

"What are you going to do?"

"Now, do you mean? Oh, I shall potter round the second nine. If you

want me, you'll find me somewhere about."

"You'll come to the wedding, Peter?" said James, wistfully.

"Of course," said Peter. "Good luck."

He spoke cheerily, but, when the other had turned to go, he stood

looking after him thoughtfully. Then he sighed a heavy sigh.

       *       *       *       *       *

James approached Miss Forrester with a beating heart. She made a

charming picture as she stood there in the sunlight, one hand on her

hip, the other swaying a tennis racket.

"How do you do?" said James.

"How are you, Mr. Todd? Have you been playing golf?"

"Yes."

"With Mr. Willard?"

"Yes. We were having a match."

"Golf," said Grace Forrester, "seems to make men very rude. Mr. Willard

left me without a word in the middle of our conversation."

James was astonished.

"Were you talking to Peter?"

"Yes. Just now. I can't understand what was the matter with him. He

just turned on his heel and swung off."

"You oughtn't to turn on your heel when you swing," said James; "only

on the ball of the foot."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing, nothing. I wasn't thinking. The fact is, I've something on my

mind. So has Peter. You mustn't think too hardly of him. We have been

playing an important match, and it must have got on his nerves. You

didn't happen by any chance to be watching us?"

"No."

"Ah! I wish you had seen me at the lake-hole. I did it one under par."

"Was your father playing?"

"You don't understand. I mean I did it in one better than even the

finest player is supposed to do it. It's a mashie-shot, you know. You

mustn't play too light, or you fall in the lake; and you mustn't play

it too hard, or you go past the hole into the woods. It requires the

nicest delicacy and judgment, such as I gave it. You might have to wait

a year before seeing anyone do it in two again. I doubt if the 'pro.'

often does it in two. Now, directly we came to this hole today, I made

up my mind that there was going to be no mistake. The great secret of

any shot at golf is ease, elegance, and the ability to relax. The

majority of men, you will find, think it important that their address

should be good."

"How snobbish! What does it matter where a man lives?"

"You don't absolutely follow me. I refer to the waggle and the stance

before you make the stroke. Most players seem to fix in their minds the

appearance of the angles which are presented by the position of the

arms, legs, and club shaft, and it is largely the desire to retain

these angles which results in their moving their heads and stiffening

their muscles so that there is no freedom in the swing. There is only

one point which vitally affects the stroke, and the only reason why

that should be kept constant is that you are enabled to see your ball

clearly. That is the pivotal point marked at the base of the neck, and

a line drawn from this point to the ball should be at right angles to

the line of flight."