Tee for two.

Atilla the Hun might have broken off his engagement to the formidable Agnes Flack, but only on one of his better mornings.

Devout expression had come into the face of the young man in plus fours, who sat with the Oldest Member on the terrace overlooking the ninth green. With something of the abruptness of a conjurer taking a rabbit out of a hat, he produced a photograph from his left breast pocket and handed it to his companion. The Sage inspected it thoughtfully.

"This is the girl you were speaking of?"

"Yes."

"You love her?"

"Madly."

"And how do you find it affects your game?"

"I've started shanking a bit."

The Oldest Member nodded his head.

"I am sorry," he said, "but not surprised. It is what generally happens. I doubt if golfers ought to fall in love. I have known it to cost men ten shots a round. They think of the girl and start quivering. On the other hand, there was the case of Harold Pickering."

"I don't think I've met him."

"He was before your time. He took a cottage here a few years ago. His handicap was fourteen. Yet within a month of his arrival, Love had brought him down to scratch."

"Quick service."

"Very. He went right back to a shaky ten, but the fact remains. But for his great love he would never have become even temporarily a scratch man."

I had seen Harold Pickering in and about the clubhouse [said...

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