oods that morning and
declared that she would not play unless I did.

"It will do you good," she said. "You'll write all the better this
afternoon. Now, come along."

"Is Doctor Bayliss as anxious for my company as you seem to be?" I asked
maliciously.

She tossed her head. "Of course he is," she retorted. "Besides it
doesn't make any difference whether he is or not. _I_ want you to play,
and that is enough."

"Humph! he may not agree with you."

"Then he can play by himself. It will do him good, too. He takes
altogether too much for granted. Come! I am waiting."

So, after a few more fruitless protests, I reluctantly laid aside the
paper and pencils, changed to golfing regalia and, with my bag of clubs
on my shoulder, joined the two young people on the lawn.

Frances greeted me very cordially indeed. Her clubs--I had bought them
myself on one of my trips to London: having once yielded, in the matter
of the tennis outfit, I now bought various little things which I thought
would please her--were carried by Herbert Bayliss, who, of course, also
carried his own. His greeting was not as enthusiastic. He seemed rather
glum and out of sorts. Frances addressed most of her conversation to me
and I was inclined to think the pair had had some sort of disagreement,
what Hephzy would have called a "lover's quarrel," perhaps.

We walked across the main street of Mayberry, through the lane past the
cricket field, on by the path over the pastures, and entered the great
gate of the Manor, the gate with the Carey arms emblazoned above it.
Then a quarter of a mile over rolling hills, with rare shrubs and
flowers everywhere, brought us to the top of the hill at the edge of the
little wood which these English people persisted in calling a "forest."
The first tee was there. You drove--if you were skillful or lucky--down
the long slope to the green two hundred yards away. If you were neither
skillful nor lucky you were quite as likely to drive into the long grass
on either side of the fair green. Then you hunted for your ball and,
having found it, wasted more or less labor and temper in pounding it out
of the "rough."

At the first tee a man arrayed in the perfection of natty golfing togs
was practicing his "swing." A caddy was carrying his bag. This of itself
argued the swinger a person of privilege and consequence, for caddies on
those links were strictly forbidden by the Lady of the Manor. Why they
were forbidden she alone knew