John Henry Smith | Page 6

Frederick Upham Adams
the members of the fair sex
are content to group themselves about the driving tees and award an
honest meed of praise and applause to their fathers, husbands, or

sweethearts.
"You're up, Thomas," I said when the crack foursome was out of range.
Thomas basted out a screecher, and Miss Ross followed with the best
shot she ever made. Miss Dangerfield missed as usual.
"I'm awfully sorry," she said, "but I'm sure you will do better than Mr.
Thomas."
In my anxiety to verify her prediction I pressed, topped my ball, and it
rolled into the bunker. Chilvers looked back and grinned and then said
something to Marshall at which both of them laughed.
Of course we were beaten, and beaten disgracefully. Miss Dangerfield
did not take it the least to heart, but the dinner did not cost her
thirty-two dollars. Not that I care for the money, but it is the first time
this year that my score has been more than ninety.
I can take Thomas out alone and beat him so badly he will not dare turn
in his score, but in a mixed foursome he can put it all over me.
It does not take much to throw a man off his golf game. For instance:
My private secretary came up from the city early this morning. Among
other matters he called my attention to the fact that my N.O. & G.
railway stock has dropped three points during the week. I seldom
indulge in stock speculation, but was induced to buy two thousand
shares of this security on what I believed to be inside information. The
stock is now selling at five points below my purchase price, a paper
loss of $10,000.
"Your brokers inform me that unless you desire to take your losses it
will be necessary to put up a ten-point margin," said my secretary.
"That means a cheque for $20,000, I presume," I observed, making a
hurried calculation. He said it did, and I gave it to him.
As soon as he had gone I went out with Kirkaldy, our club professional,
and played a few holes before luncheon, hoping to get that confounded
N.O. & G. stock affair out of my mind so that I could play a good game
in the afternoon. I made the fifth hole in five, which reminded me that
the cursed stock had dropped five points. As a consequence I drove
wide on the next hole, and Kirkaldy won half a dozen balls from me.
In order to play a perfect game of golf one's mind must reflect no
outside matter, and I shall sell that miserable stock the moment I can
get out without serious loss. This should be a lesson to me.
I saw Carter a few minutes ago and he tells me he understands that the

famous Grace Harding does play golf. My worst fears are confirmed.
I shall now clean my clubs and go to bed.

ENTRY NO. II
MAINLY ABOUT SMITH
It has rained all day and nothing of interest has happened. The ladies
are clustered on the sheltered side of the veranda. Some are reading,
others are engaged in fancy work. The leading topic of discussion is the
coming of the Hardings--or rather a fruitless inquiry as to what gowns
and how many Miss Grace Harding will wear.
They are due to-morrow. I wonder if old Harding knows anything
about N.O. & G. stock? He probably does--and will keep it to himself.
There being nothing else to write about I shall write of myself.
As Chilvers said yesterday, I was born on the farm which now
constitutes the Woodvale golf links. When my father died he willed this
land and other property to me. I take it that a man has a right to do as
he pleases with his own.
The old farm makes a sporty golf course, and I cannot say that I have
ever regretted my action in signing the lease which transfers its use to
the Woodvale Golf and Country Club for a long term of years.
I doubt if the two hundred odd acres ever yielded so large an income as
I now receive semi-annually from the treasurer of the club, but this
does not appeal to my Uncle Henry.
"It is an outrage," he once said to me, with unnecessary adjectives, "to
use the fine old farmhouse, sacred to long generations of Smiths, as an
ell to a club house."
He said other things which I will not repeat. He is a banker, and I
sincerely hope Chilvers does not hit him with a golf ball. That infernal
slice of Chilvers' has already cost me one legacy.
I have traced my ancestry as far back as I dare, and have a certain
amount of reverence
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