"Over twenty-five years ago," said Bishop. "And what have you been doing with yourself all these years? I surely hope you've found something better to do than play this here fool game an' knock people's heads off."

He tenderly rubbed the lump on his forehead.

"I just took this game up," said Harding rather sheepishly. "I've been building railroads."

"Are you Robert L. Harding, the railroad king that the papers talks so much erbout?" demanded Bishop.

"I guess I'm the fellow," admitted Harding.

"Well; I never would er believed it!" gasped Bishop, and then they shook hands again.

They sat on a rock and talked about Buckfield and their boyhood days for an hour. It seems that they were born and raised on adjoining farms, and were chums until Harding's father died, at which time Harding went West and found his fortune.

Not until the horses became restless and started to go home did Bishop note the pa.s.sing of time. He cordially invited Harding and his daughter to come and call on him, and Harding did not hesitate in accepting the invitation.

Now that I think of it, none of us gave a thought to that ball, and I suppose it is out in the road yet. Harding said that was all the golf he wished that day, and so we went back to the club house.

"Talk about driving a ball six hundred yards, Smith," he said, as we came to the eighteenth tee. "I knocked that ball so far that I hit a boy in Maine, and that's hundreds of miles from here."

ENTRY NO. VIII

DOWNFALL OF MR. HARDING

I do not know whether to be annoyed or amused over the result of my second golf game with Miss Harding. It was not in the least like my antic.i.p.ations.

Our first game was so romantic. It was as if the kindly skies had raised a dome over earth's most favoured spot and reserved it for our use. It was different to-day.

I presume it is necessary that beautiful maidens shall have fathers. I raise no doubt that Mr. Harding is a wonderful financier and railroad genius, and it is likely he is ent.i.tled to a vacation and to that relaxation which comes from taking exercise, but this does not justify him in--well, in "b.u.t.ting in" on our game. I don't use slang as a rule, but no other term so accurately describes the conduct of that gentleman this afternoon.

As for Carter--I have no words to express what I think of Carter.

If I had a daughter nineteen years old it would occur to me that she might prefer to play golf with a young gentleman somewhere near her own age rather than with me, especially if that young gentleman were a good golfer, and possessed of wealth, prospects, and honourable ambitions.

But Mr. Harding treats her as if she were a school miss in short dresses. He persists in calling her "Kid," and only rarely does he address her by the beautiful name of Grace.

When Miss Harding started from the club house her father was on the lawn not many yards away engaged in the interesting but expensive experiment of trying to drive b.a.l.l.s across the lake. He was buying new b.a.l.l.s by the box--they cost $5.50 a box--with the joyous abandon of a pampered boy purchasing fire-crackers on the Fourth of July.

All he asks of a ball is "one crack at it," and the caddies were reaping a harvest. He had not made one decent drive, and was surprised and angry.

As luck would have it he turned and saw us as we were starting for the first tee. He had laid aside that flaming red-and-green coat, and was in his shirt sleeves. His face was crimson from exertion, and his hair wet with perspiration.

"Where are you going?" he called.

"We're going to play a round," I answered, with a sinking heart.

"Good; I'll go with you," he returned. "Chuck the rest of those b.a.l.l.s into that sack," he said to one of his caddies, "and follow me."

What could I do but say we would be delighted to have him join us? We were waiting for him, when who should come from the club house but Carter.

"h.e.l.lo there, Carter!" shouted Harding. "Come on and play with us! This is my first real game, and we'll make it a foursome, or whatever you call it. What d'ye say?"

"That's fine!" declared Carter.

I happen to know that he had already made up a game with Marshall, Boyd, and Chilvers, but he did not hesitate to abandon them for his long-coveted chance to play with Miss Harding.

"We'll have a great game," a.s.serted Mr. Harding mopping his brow. "How shall we divide up? I suppose you're the best player, Carter, and Smith comes next, but I can beat the Kid, here," patting Miss Harding on the shoulder.

"I'll bet you cannot," I declared, angry that he should cla.s.s Carter above me.

"Bet I cannot beat my Grace?" he exclaimed. I told him that such was my opinion.

"Of course I can beat you, papa," laughed Miss Harding. "You have never played, and know nothing of the game. I can beat you easily."

"Talk of the insolence and ingrat.i.tude of children!" he gasped. "Kid, I'm astonished at you! I'll teach both of you a lesson. What do you want to bet, Smith?"

I suggested that a box of b.a.l.l.s would suit me as a bet.

"Box of monkeys!" exclaimed Harding. "I thought you were a sport, Smith!

A box of b.a.l.l.s don't last me as long as a box of cigarettes does Carter.

Tell you what I'll do. We'll all keep track of our shots, and for every one I beat her you pay me a box of b.a.l.l.s, and for every one she beats me I pay you a box of b.a.l.l.s. How does that strike you?"

"Take him up, Mr. Smith," said Miss Harding, a smile on her lips and a meaning glance in her eyes. I would not have hesitated had I known it would have cost me every dollar in the world.

"You are on, Mr. Harding," I said.

"We'll teach you a good lesson, Papa Harding," she declared, with a confidence which surprised me. "You have never seen me play."

He roared with laughter.

"Talk about David and Goliath!" he exclaimed. "Tell you what I'll do, Kid. I'll make you a small bet on the side. You remember that sixty horse-power buzz wagon we were looking at in the city the other day?"

"The one in red that I admired so much?" asked Miss Harding.

"Yes, the one you tried to soft soap me into buying. Tell you what I'll do. If you beat me I'll buy that machine for you, and if I beat you I get a new hat which you pay for out of your pin money."

"It's a shame to take advantage of you, papa, dear," she hesitated, "but I want that machine awfully, and I'll make the wager."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "... and missed the ball by three inches"]

"If you never get it until you beat me at this shinny game you will wait a long time," he declared. "Who shoots first?"

"Miss Harding and I will be partners," suggested Carter, before I could get the words out of my mouth.

"Since I am interested in Miss Harding's play to the extent of a box of b.a.l.l.s a stroke, I claim the right to act as her partner and adviser," I said, looking hard at Carter.

"Mr. Smith and I will be partners," said Miss Harding, and it was the happiest moment of my life.