hat he should have
done so, nor did it rob his Voice of the Proper Passionate Inflection.
Nor did it keep the cardiac region of the Arethusa of the Dream from
fluttering in an altogether delightful way.

CHAPTER XVII

Ross took Arethusa out to the Country Club for a round of golf the next
afternoon, and as it was the first and only time she had ever spied a
golf club, it is not at all difficult to imagine what sort of game she
played. It deserved a name all of its own; and her method of holding
her club would have brought tears to the eyes of any true devotee of
the sport. But from the standpoint of pure enjoyment for the two most
intimately concerned, the occasion was a great success.

"I don't believe I care very much for golf," she remarked decidedly,
after she had almost dug a trench around her ball on the second tee,
"and I believe you move that ball, Father, when I'm not looking with my
stick up over my head."

Ross protested his innocence, and insisted that she try once more. So
she did. But when she missed it this time also, she was firm in her
resolve to quit.

"You do move it, Father!" she repeated. "I just know you do! To tease
me! Because, why shouldn't my stick come down in the right place when I
know exactly where it is when I start to hit it, if you don't push it
away?"

"Because of one of the cardinal rules of the game, my dear, 'Keep your
eye on the ball.' You are demonstrating its truth of that aphorism
every time you take your eye off."

"But how can I?" retorted Arethusa. "I've only got two eyes. How can I
watch my ball and my stick and where I'm going to knock it, and
everything, when they won't look but one way at once? I'm not
cross-eyed!"

Ross gave it up as beyond his powers of reasoning.

So Arethusa put her driver back in the bag and announced that she would
do the caddying. But as conversation is one of the things most
unnecessary to a caddy, she could hardly be said to approach perfection
in this role, either, though as Ross, very fortunately, did not take
his golf with any too much seriousness, they got along in fine shape.
Arethusa was outspoken in her loyal admiration of each one of his
shots, and when he made one drive of two hundred yards and over, her
proud delight was manifest all over the course.

She had not even begun to exhaust the dinner-dance and the Wonderful
Mr. Bennet as congenial topics of conversation, although the
breakfast-table and the luncheon-tabl