Part 30 (1/2)

Well, we won that game, a breeze having just sprung up; and, carried away by enthusiasm and mutual admiration, we collected another. (_Five, two._) Then it was Miss Hope's serve again.

”Good-bye,” I said; ”I suppose you want me in the forefront again?”

”Please.”

”I don't mind _her_ shots--the bottle of scent is absolutely safe; but I'm afraid he'll win another packet of woodbines.”

Miss Hope started off with a double, which was rather a pity, and then gave our masculine adversary what is technically called ”one to kill.” I saw instinctively that I was the one, and I held my racquet ready with both hands. Our opponent, who had been wanting his tea for the last two games, was in no mood of dalliance; he fairly let himself go over this shot. In a moment I was down on my knees behind the net ... and the next moment I saw through the meshes a very strange thing. The other man, with his racquet on the ground, was holding his eye with both hands!

”Don't you think,” said Miss Hope (_two, five--abandoned_) ”that your overhead volleying is just a little severe?”

XXVI. TEN AND EIGHT

The only event of importance last week was my victory over Henry by ten and eight. If you don't want to hear about that, then I shall have to pa.s.s on to you a few facts about his motor-bicycle. You'd rather have the other? I thought so.

The difference between Henry and me is that he is what I should call a good golfer, and I am what everybody else calls a bad golfer. In consequence of this he insults me with offers of bisques.

”I'll have ten this time,” I said, as we walked to the tee.

”Better have twelve. I beat you with eleven yesterday.”

”Thank you,” I said haughtily, ”I will have ten.” It is true that he beat me last time, but then owing to bad management on my part I had nine bisques left at the moment of defeat simply eating their heads off.

Henry teed up and drove a ”Pink Spot” out of sight. Henry swears by the ”Pink Spot” if there is anything of a wind. I use either a ”Quo Vadis,”

which is splendid for going out of bounds, or an ”Ostrich,” which has a wonderful way of burying itself in the sand. I followed him to the green at my leisure.

”Five,” said Henry.

”Seven,” said I; ”and if I take three bisques it's my hole.”

”You must only take one at a time,” protested Henry.

”Why? There's nothing in Baedeker about it. Besides, I will only take one at a time if it makes it easier for you. I take one, and that brings me down to six, and then another one and that brings me down to five, and then another one and that brings me down to four. There! And as you did the hole in five, I win.”

”Well, of course, if you like to waste them all at the start----”

”I'm not wasting them, I'm creating a moral effect. Behold, I have won the first hole; let us be photographed together.”

Henry went to the next tee slightly ruffled and topped his ball into the road. I had kept mine well this side of it and won in four to five.

”I shan't take any bisques here,” I said. ”Two up.”

At the third tee my ”Quo Vadis” darted off suddenly to the left and tried to climb the hill. I headed it off and gave it a nasty dent from behind when it wasn't looking, and with my next shot started it rolling down the mountains with ever-increasing velocity. Not until it was within a foot of the pin did it condescend to stop. Henry, who had reached the green with his drive and had taken one putt too many, halved the hole in four. I took a bisque and was three up.

The fourth hole was prettily played by both of us, and with two bisques I had it absolutely stiff. Unnerved by this, Henry went all out at the fifth and tried to carry the stream in two. Unfortunately (I mean unfortunately for him) the stream was six inches too broad in the particular place at which he tried to carry it. My own view is that he should either have chosen another place or else have got a narrower stream from somewhere. As it was I won in an uneventful six, and took with a bisque the short hole which followed.

”Six up,” I pointed out to Henry, ”and three bisques left. They're jolly little things, bisques, but you want to use them quickly. _Bisque dat qui cito dat._ Doesn't the sea look ripping to-day?”

”Go on,” growled Henry.