The Clicking of Cuthbert

red H

ling lightly on the links. From where he sat, the Oldest Member had a good view of the ninth green; and presently, out of the greyness of the December evening, there appe

, and, shouldering his bag, made his way to the club-house. A few moments later he en

rozen

k. The Oldest Member gave a gracious assent

f, for the world is full of slackers who only turn out when the weather suits

g gratefully into his hot drink. "If they were, the world would be

een," admitted

whom I could describe as keener

d to marry go off with someone else because he hadn't the time to combine g

ory, if you would care to hea

ur," said the youn

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ung knight if he suspended all his social and business engagements in favour of a search for the Holy Grail. In the Middle Ages a man could devote his whole life to the Crusades, and the public fawned upon him. Why, then,

that practically all the finest exponents of the art are married men; and the thought that there might be something in the holy state which improved a man's game, and that he was missing a good thing, troubled him a great deal. Moreover, the paternal instinct had awakened in him. As he justly pointed out, whether marriage improved your game or not, it was to Old Tom Morris's marriage that the existence of young Tommy Morris, winner of the British Open Championship four times in succession, could be directly traced. In fact, at the age of forty-two, Mortimer Sturgis was in just the frame of mind to tak

th his suit-case and his ninety-four clubs he went off to Saint Brule, staying as he always did at the Hotel Superbe, where they knew him, and treated with an amiable tolerance his habit of

ing you get when your drive collides with a rock in the middle of a tangle of rough and kicks back into the middle of the fairway. If golf had come late in life to Mortimer Sturgis, love came later still, and just as the golf, attacking him in middle life, had b

*

eet expression, and her left wrist was in a sling. She looked up at Mortimer as if she had at last found som

," said Mortimer, who was

said th

fine w

do

thing about f

es

s so much finer than weather t

e might be taking her out of her depth, but she see

" she said. "It

t," said Mortimer. "So f

bination of beauty with

r wrist," he went on,

a little playing i

"It's awfully rude of me," he said, apologeti

e is So

d been stunning. Even before he had met and spoken to her, he had told himself that he loved this girl with

ts had been nonentities like herself. And then, in the third round, she had met and defeated the champion. From that point on, her name was on everybody's lips. She became favourite. And she justified the public confidenc

said Mort

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him play. He did it a little diffidently, for his golf was not of the calibre that would be likely to extort admiration from a champion. On the other hand, one should never let slip the opportunity of acquiring wrinkles on the game, and he thought th

ed to t

I to do here

ball. She seemed to be wei

ood hard kno

d been behind it, and rolled, looking neither to left nor to right, straight for the pin. A few moments later Mortimer Sturgis had holed out one under bogey, and it was only the fear that, having known him for so short a time, she might be startled and refuse him that kept him from proposing then and there. This exhibition of golfing generalship on her part had removed his last doubts. He knew that,

r Sturgis's soul sizzled within him: then he could contain himself no longer. One night, a

otion like an imperfectly-corked bottle of gin

with eyes that shone

ted. "Why, of cou

n two? Oh, Mary, how I have longed for this moment! I love you! I love you! Ever since I met you I have known that you were the one girl in this vast world whom I would die to

ped towa

r!" she

is face had grown suddenly tense, and t

so dearly I cannot let you trust your sweet life to me blindly. I have a confession to

ted indi

the bravest man I have ever met! Who but a good man

voice seemed perplexed.

fell in the sea last week, and you j

f your snowy purity, I am not a good man. I do not come to you clean and spotless as a young girl should expect her husband to come to her. Once, playing in a foursome, my ball fell in some long grass. Nobody was near me. We had no caddies, and the others were on the fairway. God knows--" His voice shook. "God knows I struggled against the temptation. But I fell. I kicked

on't shrink! I only shivere

love me in spi

rti

l into

happy life ours will be. That is, if you

" she cried

tt into a coal-hole with 'Welcome!' written over it. And you are a Ladies' Open Champion. Still, if you think it's all right--. Oh, Mary, you little know how I have dreamed of s

" said the girl. She

fortable chair with a nice cup of coffee, and then I think I really must com

*

'er St. Andrews" boomed from the organ. He had even had the idea of copying the military wedding and escorting his bride out of the church under an arch of crossed cleeks. But she would have none of this pomp. She insisted on a quiet wedding, and for the honeymoon trip preferred a tour through Italy. Mortimer, who had wanted to go to Scotland to visit the birthplace of James Braid, yielded amiably, for he loved her dearly. But he did not think much of Italy. In Rome, the gr

they came home to Mortimer's cosy

*

once, when he tried the newest of his mashie-niblicks and broke one of the drawing-room windows, she screamed sharply. In short her manner was strange, and, if Edgar Allen Poe had put her into "The Fall Of the House of Usher", she would have fitted it lik

ell again now, darlin

es, qui

s before lunch. A couple more in the afternoon will about see us through. One doesn't want to over-golf oneself the fir

clutched the arm of her chair tightly till

y reached the first tee. Her eyes were dull and heavy, and she started when a grasshopper chirruped. But M

ut of the box, and too

her had been a brand-

t of the most expens

tla

e a high te

, coming with a start

ay it's in

laughed

comic paper? There you are!" He placed the ball on a little hill of sa

st into

darl

his arms round her. She tr

el! Wha

ly. Then, with an

I have de

eive

in my life! I don't even k

bberings of an unbalanced mind, and no man likes his w

! You are no

ouble! I'm myself and not

t it was a little difficult and that, to work it out

e is no

u said

ght, because I loved you too much to deny your smallest whim. I w

truth was coming home t

Somer

cousin. My n

prained your wrist play

mallet slippe

tched at his forehead. "Yo

timer! Th

k, and into her blue eyes there came a

Open Croquet Champ

, a cry that was like the sh

ude, but he had those decent prejudices of which no self-respecting man

eeze sang in the pines above them. The

k again in a low,

only then that I understood what my supposed skill at golf meant to you, and then it was too late. I loved you too much to let you go! I could not bear the thought of you recoiling from me. Oh, I was mad-mad! I knew that I could not keep up the deception for ever, that you must f

Mortimer awoke

e cried.

ust

o talk th

the sunlit grass. Mortimer watched her, his brain in a wh

end of those rainbow visions of himself and her going through life side by side, she lovingly criticizing his stance and his back-swing, he learning wis

there, he became once more aware of the glow of the sunshine and the singing of th

er to alter that. She had deceived him, yes. But why had she deceived him? Because she loved

to play croquet when a mere child, hardly able to distinguish right from wrong. No steps had been taken to eradicate the

It was not too late. She was still young, many years younger than he himself had been when he took up golf, and surely, if she put herself into the

ped from room to roo

y sang in its cage, the cook in the kitchen. The pictures still hung

won in a handicap competition, he saw a letter

those fountain-pens which suspend the flow of ink about twice in every three words. The gist of it was that she felt she had

nd stared blankly before him.

*

ith a brassey and missing the ball. Something, I take it, of the same sense of mingled shock, chagrin, and the feeling that nobody loves one, which attacks a man in such circumstances, must come to the

ul sight to see this gaunt, haggard man with the look of dumb anguish behind his spectacles taking as many as three shots sometimes to get past the ladies' tee. His slice, of which he had almost cured himself, returned with such virulence that in the list of ordinary hazards he had now to include the tee-box. And, when he was not slicing, he was p

outs. He advertised in all the papers. He employed private detectives. He even, much as it revolted his finer instincts, took to travelling about the country, watching croquet matches. But she was never

snow, heavier than had been known at that time of the year for a long while, put an end to golf. Mortim

Christm

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easily on his seat. His

very depressi

agreed the Oldest Member

Mortimer find her dead in the snow, covered except for her face, on which still lingered

the Oldest Member. "

en't going to spring

, n

breathed a r

the white mantle covering the

age r

*

ng in his drawing-room, moodily polishing the blade of his jigger. Soon wearying of this once congenial task, he laid down the club and went to the front door to see if there was any chance of a thaw. But no. It was freezing. The snow, as he tested it with his

rti

The voice had sounde

rti

, and it had come from somewhere down near the garden-gate. It is difficult to judge distance where sounds are concern

passed his hands over it. It was a human body. Quivering, he struck a match. It went out. He struck another. That went out, too. He struck a third, and it burnt with a steady flame

*

th a set face. He rea

said, "after you promised-" The

r! She had o

d she wa

cold if you were

sti

the holiday-season, and she had had to walk all the way from the jun

*

to the house. Half-way there, his foot slipped on a piece of ice and he fell

t her to. She o

darling!"

ing to say something else

alive?"

she r

scooping some of the snow ou

nto the drawing-room. Wife gazed at husb

ather!" sa

isn'

presently they were sitting side by side on the sofa, holdin

ho made the first

id, "you oughtn't to hav

ht you h

itself! I would sooner have smashed my

lled at

rli

fondled

still. I was going to suggest that you took lessons

orthy of yo

long, and I know it more than ever now, that it is you-you that I want. Just you! I don't care if you don't play golf. I

ade it almost angelic. She uttered a low mo

imer,

at

Just

alls on the mantelpiece she selected a brand new one. She placed it on the carpet. She addressed it. Th

imer, astounded. It ha

whole face alight wit

I saw your advertisements in the papers, and I longed to answer them, but I was not ready. All this lon

mpionship of 1911, and had the best ball in the foursome in

s a direction post I aimed at it automatically. But I conquered my weakness. I practised steadily. And now Mr. McMickle says my handicap would be a good twenty-four on a

shook h

game went right off for some reason

. "Oh, I know what the reason was! How can I

ck to Mortimer's eyes.

ppened. From now on, we start level, two hearts that beat as one, two drivers that drive a

d the lin

bri

fe. Oh, we wil

l exercise

ose dark bunker

ws. Indeed, I l

up: our hand

ou my manhood

hands in mine

her han

ng," she said, "I want

th at Auchtermuchtie