The Clicking of Cuthbert

erected in the palace square, showing him in the act of getting out of

casual water. The minstrels had composed a whole cycle of up-to-date

songs, commemorating his prowess with the mashie. His handicap was down

to twelve. But these things are not all. A golfer needs a loving wife,

to whom he can describe the day's play through the long evenings. And

this was just where Merolchazzar's life was empty. No word had come

from the Princess of the Outer Isles, and, as he refused to be put off

with just-as-good substitutes, he remained a lonely man.

But one morning, in the early hours of a summer day, as he lay sleeping

after a disturbed night, Merolchazzar was awakened by the eager hand of

the Lord High Chamberlain, shaking his shoulder.

"Now what?" said the King.

"Hoots, your Majesty! Glorious news! The Princess of the Outer Isles

waits without--I mean wi'oot!"

The King sprang from his couch.

"A messenger from the Princess at last!"

"Nay, sire, the Princess herself--that is to say," said the Lord

Chamberlain, who was an old man and had found it hard to accustom

himself to the new tongue at his age, "her ain sel'! And believe me, or

rather, mind ah'm telling ye," went on the honest man, joyfully, for he

had been deeply exercised by his monarch's troubles, "her Highness is

the easiest thing to look at these eyes hae ever seen. And you can say

I said it!"

"She is beautiful?"

"Your majesty, she is, in the best and deepest sense of the word, a

pippin!"

King Merolchazzar was groping wildly for his robes.

"Tell her to wait!" he cried. "Go and amuse her. Ask her riddles! Tell

her anecdotes! Don't let her go. Say I'll be down in a moment. Where in

the name of Zoroaster is our imperial mesh-knit underwear?"

       *       *       *       *       *

A fair and pleasing sight was the Princess of the Outer Isles as she

stood on the terrace in the clear sunshine of the summer morning,

looking over the King's gardens. With her delicate little nose she

sniffed the fragrance of the flowers. Her blue eyes roamed over the

rose bushes, and the breeze ruffled the golden curls about her temples.

Presently a sound behind her caused her to turn, and she perceived a

godlike man hurrying across the terrace pulling up a sock. And at the

sight of him the Princess's heart sang within her like the birds down

in the garden.

"Hope I haven't kept you waiting," said Merolchazzar, apologetically.

He, too, was conscious of a strange, wild exhilaration. Truly was this

maiden, as his Chamberlain had said, noticeably easy on the eyes. Her

beauty was as water in the desert, as fire on a frosty night, as

diamonds, rubies, pearls, sapphires, and amethysts.

"Oh, no!" said the princess, "I've been enjoying myself. How passing

beautiful are thy gardens, O King!"

"My gardens may be passing beautiful," said Merolchazzar, earnestly,

"but they aren't half so passing beautiful as thy eyes. I have dreamed

of thee by night and by day, and I will tell the world I was nowhere

near it! My sluggish fancy came not within a hundred and fifty-seven

miles of the reality. Now let the sun dim his face and the moon hide

herself abashed. Now let the flowers bend their heads and the gazelle

of the mountains confess itself a cripple. Princess, your slave!"

And King Merolchazzar, with that easy grace so characteristic of

Royalty, took her hand in his and kissed it.

As he did so, he gave a start of surprise.

"By Hec!" he exclaimed. "What hast thou been doing to thyself? Thy hand

is all over little rough places inside. Has some malignant wizard laid

a spell upon thee, or what is it?"

The Princess blushed.

"If I make that clear to thee," she said, "I shall also make clear why

it was that I sent thee no message all this long while. My time was so

occupied, verily I did not seem to have a moment. The fact is, these

sorenesses are due to a strange, new religion to which I and my

subjects have but recently become converted. And O that I might make

thee also of the true faith! 'Tis a wondrous tale, my lord. Some two

moons back there was brought to my Court by wandering pirates a captive

of an uncouth race who dwell in the north. And this man has taught

us----"

King Merolchazzar uttered a loud cry.

"By Tom, the son of Morris! Can this truly be so? What is thy

handicap?"

The Princess stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Truly this is a miracle! Art thou also a worshipper of the great

Gowf?"

"Am I!" cried the King. "Am I!" He broke off. "Listen!"

From the minstrels' room high up in the palace there came the sound of

singing. The minstrels were practising a new paean of praise--words by

the Grand Vizier, music by the High Priest of Hec--which they were to

render at the next full moon at the banquet of the worshippers of Gowf.

The words came clear and distinct through the still air:

    "Oh, praises let us utter

    To our most glorious King!

    It fairly makes you stutter

    To see him start his swing!

    Success attend his putter!

    And luck be with his drive!

    And may he do each hole in two,

    Although the bogey's five!"

The voices died away. There was a silence.