y not drive for the green?"

"Well, you see, it's rather too far for a cleek, and too short for a
driver. Sometimes I try it with a brassey, but on the whole I think the
cleek is best. If you over-drive you get into awful trouble, as you
will see." So the course was gone over and explained, and Tom's eye was
quick to see the possibilities, and note the dangers, nor did she
hesitate sometimes to differ from Harold's tactics.

"Well," said he, in conclusion, "what do you think of 'em? Rather
sporting, aren't they?"

"Humph--yes!" said Tom. "That fifth hole is a little tricky, but I
think they ought to be done in--er--What's your record?"

"M-well, it varies--of course. I'm no pro., but I can get round in
forty, with luck."

"Forty! Humph!" Tom wheeled round on her heel, and gazed from right to
left with calculating eyes. Her lips moved noiselessly, then she nodded
her head, and cried confidently:

"I'll take you! I'll play you to-morrow for the better man!"

"Done!" agreed Harold at once, but he straightened his shoulders as he
spoke with a gesture which meant that he had no intention, if he knew
it, of being beaten by a school-girl, and his sister looked forward to
the contest with very mingled feelings. If Tom lost, it would be a
distinct blow; yet if Tom won, how Harold would dislike her! How
hopeless it would be to look for any friendship between them after that!
She was glad that the game would have to be deferred for a day at
least, for an evening spent in Tom's company must surely instal her in
public favour. When, however, she went to her friend's room to convey
her downstairs to dinner, Rhoda's confidence was shaken, and she nearly
exclaimed aloud in dismay at the apparition which she beheld.

Tom in full evening dress was a vision which had been denied to Hurst
Manor, but on the present occasion she had evidently determined to pay
every honour to her hosts, and bony arms and neck emerged festively from
a shot-silk gown, which Rhoda felt convinced must have been a possession
of the long-deceased mother.

"What do you think of _that_?" Tom cried proudly, rustling round to
confront the new-comer, arms akimbo, and eyes twinkling with
complacency. "There's a natty get-up! Quite a fashion plate, ain't I?
The very latest from Par-ee. You didn't expect to see anything like
that, did you?"

"I didn't!" cried Rhoda, truthfully enough; but Tom suspected no satire
in her words, and taking up the