!" added Miss Lawrence.

"And putt!" declared Miss Ross. "It was grand!"

"Let us see this paragon of all the golfing virtues without delay,"
laughed Miss Harding, and half an hour later our automobile stopped in
front of the Bishop house.

Wallace must have been on the outlook for us, since he appeared
directly. He seemed a bit surprised to see me, but greeted us
pleasantly.

"Miss Lawrence and Miss Ross were so kind as to praise shots I made
yesterday," he explained, "but, as Mr. Smith will understand, the good
ones were more or less lucky, for it is long since I have had a club in
my hand. However, I will do the best I can to illustrate the typical
Scottish swings, as I execute them, but please do not expect too much."

We ran the auto into the sheep pasture, and I presume it was the first
invasion of those haunts by this modern vehicle. At least the sheep
seemed to so regard it, and ran bleating in every direction. It is an
ideal spot for an exhibition of the long game, and Bishop has had many
offers from golf clubs seeking a location for links. That farmer
gentleman appeared shortly after we arrived at the crest of a gentle
hill.

"No trespassin' on these here premises!" he grinned.

"How are ye, everybody? Miss Lawrence tells me that my man Wallace,
here, is a crackerjack drivin' one of them golf balls. You'd ought to
see him drive a team when he first come here. Took him two weeks to
learn the difference between 'gee' and 'haw,' and to tell the 'nigh'
from the 'off' boss, but I suppose drivin' a golf ball is a sight
easier. But I won't bother ye. I'll just stand here and watch. Perhaps I
might learn somethin'."

It was a warm afternoon and Wallace laid aside his thin jacket. He was
dressed in a tennis suit which fitted him perfectly. Bishop called me
aside.

"That chap has two or three trunks full of all kinds of clothes," he
said in a whisper, "but this is the first time I ever saw this one. What
do you call it?"

"That's a tennis suit," I said.

"Tennis!" he grunted. "That's worse than golf, isn't it, Jack?"

I laughed, and then we turned our attention to the young Scotchman.

The moment he grasped my driver and swung it with an easy but powerful
wrist movement I knew he was an expert. You can almost pick the good
golfer by the way he takes a club from a bag. His skill is shown in his
manner of teeing a ball, and no duffer ever "addressed" the sphere or
"waggled" his club so as to deceive those