Part 33 (1/2)

”They'll think I'm crazy,” was the cheerful response; ”but, just between you and me, my dear, I'm not near so crazy right now as I have been!”

III

Jasper was cleaning up the locker room--his regular Monday-morning job.

As he worked he crooned the words of an old negro melody:

”_Ole bline hawss, come outen the wilderness, Outen the wilderness, outen the wilderness; Ole bline hawss_----”

The side door opened and Jasper dropped his mop.

”Who's that?” he asked. ”This early in the mawnin'?” But when he recognised the caller he did not show the faintest symptoms of surprise.

Jasper was more than a perfect servant; he was also a diplomat. ”Good mawnin', Misteh Coyne.”

The caller seemed embarra.s.sed. He attempted to a.s.sume a cheerful expression, but succeeded in producing a silly grin.

”Jasper,” said he, ”I was a little bit sore yesterday----”

”Yes, suh; an' n.o.body could blame you,” said the negro, coming gallantly to the rescue.

”And you know how it is with a man when he's sore.”

”Yes, suh. Man don' always mean whut he say--that is, he mean it all right at the _time_. Yes, suh. At--the--time. 'N'en ag'in, he might _change_.”

”That's it exactly!” said Coyne, and floundered to a full stop.

Jasper's face was grave, but he found it necessary to fix his eyes on the opposite wall.

”Yes, suh,” said he. ”Las' month I swo' off too.”

”Swore off on what?”

”c.r.a.ps, Misteh Coyne. Whut Bu't Williams calls Af'ican golf. Yes, suh, I swo' off; but las' night--well, I kind o' fell f'um grace. I fell, suh; but I wasn't damaged so much as some o' them boys in the game.” Jasper chuckled to himself. ”Yes, suh; I sutny sewed 'em up propeh! Look like I come back in my ole-time fawm!”

”That's it!” Coyne agreed eagerly. ”I've got my chip shot back, Jasper.

Last night, at home, I was. .h.i.tting 'em as clean as a whistle. I--I ran out here this morning to have a little talk with you. You remember about those clubs?” Jasper nodded. ”That was a foolish thing to do----” began Coyne.

”No, suh!” interrupted Jasper positively. ”No, suh! When a man git good an' sore he do a lot o' things whut awdinarily he wouldn't think o'

doin'! Las' month I th'owed away the best paih o' c.r.a.p dice you eveh saw. You givin' away yo' clubs is exackly the same thing.”

”That was what I wanted to see you about,” said Coyne with a shamefaced grin. ”I was wondering if there wouldn't be some way to get those clubs back--buying 'em from the boys. You could explain----”

Jasper cackled and slapped his knees.

”Same thing all oveh ag'in!” said he. ”I th'owed them dice away, Misteh Coyne; but I th'owed 'em kind o' _easy_, an' I knowed where to look. So, when you tol' me 'bout them clubs I--well, suh, I ain' been c'nected with this club twenty yeahs faw nothin'. If I was you, suh, I think I'd look in my lockeh.”

Coyne drew the bolt and opened the door. His clothes were hanging on the hooks; his shoes were resting on the steel floor; his golf bag was leaning in the corner, and it was full of clubs--the clubs he had given away the day before! Coyne tried to speak, but the words would not come.