fault.
Let the right shoulder go straight through. Ah, that was a decided
improvement! Now swing and keep that right elbow at least four inches
from the body. You let your wrists in too soon, Miss Lawrence. Do not
start them to work until you are well down on your stroke. That shoulder
dropped again! Don't look up as your club goes through; that is a fatal
fault. Fall back on those heels! Keep the back straight, or curved back,
if at all. Now we will try it with a ball."

Wallace teed a ball and Miss Lawrence drove a very good one for her. It
was straight and a trifle high, but it had a carry of fully 120 yards.

"Didn't I tell you I was improving!" she exclaimed, smiling triumphantly
at Mr. Harding. "Mr. Wallace is a splendid teacher."

"Yes, and you are a splendid pupil," returned Mr. Harding, with a
knowing smile, "but you give me a chance, or I'll lodge a protest with
the board of management."

She laughed, waved her hand mockingly at him, and away they went. I
noticed that Wallace was not playing. He carried the clubs and they
walked close to each other. He said something and she looked up to his
face and smiled. It was evident they had much to talk of, and while I
cannot prove it, I am inclined to doubt if their conversation was
restricted to the details of the game.

Harding watched them, a quiet smile on his strong, kindly, and rugged
face. He was humming the air of an old love song.

"Smith," he said after an interval of silence, "there are only two
things in this life really worth having."

"What are they?"

"Youth and health."

"How about love?" I asked.

"Youth and health own love," he replied. "Love is their obedient
servant. I thank God that I have not lost my youth or my health."

I was privileged to see this remarkable man for a moment in a new light,
one which increased my respect and admiration for him.

When we returned to the club house the veranda was buzzing with gossip.
Miss Dangerfield was delighted when she found that I was not acquainted
with the cause of the excitement. It gave her a chance to impart the
news to one ready to listen, and she was not slow in taking advantage of
it.

"Miss Lawrence has refused Mr. LaHume!" she whispered, though she might
as well have screamed it through a megaphone, since I was the only one
on the veranda in ignorance of it.

"How do you know?" I asked.

"I dare not tell," she said, but I knew she would. "If you'll promise
not to reveal it to