e, who has since made a fortune in the hotel business.
I could see that the shot went home.

"I say, Smith, let's play golf and cut out this family history
business," protested LaHume, who was fighting angry. "It is your shot,
Miss Lawrence."

"Don't you think he is handsome, Mr. Smith?" she asked.

"Who; Mr. LaHume?" I returned, not averse to rubbing it into the
descendant of the roadhouse keeper.

"Of course not," she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I mean
that lovely hired man."

"He's a rustic Apollo," I said, "and it may interest our friend to know
that he also combines the qualities of Hercules and Mars."

And while LaHume fumed and Miss Lawrence clapped her hands I told the
story of the downfall of "Big Dave" at the hands of the quiet and
cleanly Wallace, making sure that the defeat of the village bully lost
nothing in its telling.

All the way back to the club house--we did not play out the remaining
holes--Miss Lawrence plied me with questions concerning Wallace. Of
course I know that her object was to punish LaHume, and she did it most
effectively.

She pretended to believe that there is some great romance back of
Wallace's present status. She pictured him as a Scotch nobleman, or the
son of one, I have forgotten which, forced by most interesting
circumstances to remain for a while in foreign lands. She conjured from
her fancy the castle in which he was born, and over which he will some
time rule, and I helped her as best I could.

I can see that it will be a long time before LaHume will ask me to make
up a threesome with Miss Lawrence. I wonder what "the hired man" would
think if he knew that his lucky stroke with a hickory club had created
so great a furor? I have a suspicion that this was not a lucky day in
LaHume's campaign for the Lawrence hand and fortune.

ENTRY NO. V

THE EAGLE'S NEST

Miss Grace Harding is here again, and I am to play a game of golf with
her to-morrow. Carter does not know it yet, but that is because I have
not had a chance to tell him.

Carter is a rattling good fellow and a fine golfer--he has made Woodvale
in seventy-seven; two strokes better than my low score--but he is a bit
conceited; he imagines he is a lady's man, and I propose to take him
down a peg.

I am certain he schemed to play with Miss Harding before I did, and he
went about it in what he doubtless thought was a diplomatic way. He
opened his campaign this morning by playing a roun