preparing to drive off the first tee. In spite of the fact that something seemed to tell her subconsciously that this was one of the sights she ought not to miss, the girl did not wait to watch. Assuming that the match had started soon after breakfast, it must by now have reached one of the holes on the second nine. She ran down the hill, looking to left and right, and was presently aware of a group of spectators clustered about a green in the distance. As she hurried towards them they moved away, and now she could see Ferdinand advancing to the next tee. With a thrill that shook her whole body she realized that he had the honour. So he must have won one hole, at any rate. Then she saw her uncle.
"I said 'Good morning!'" roared Barbara into the receiver.
Hey?"
"How are they?" she gasped.
Mr. Tuttle seemed moody. It was apparent that things were not going altogether to his liking.
"All square at the fifteenth," he replied gloomily.
"All square!"
"Yes. Young Parsloe," said Mr. Tuttle, with a sour look in the direction of that lissom athlete, "doesn't seem to be able to do a thing right on the greens. He has been putting like a sheep with the botts."
FROM the foregoing remark of Mr. Tuttle you will no doubt have gleaned at last a clue to the mystery of how Ferdinand Dibble had managed to hold his long-driving adversary up to the fifteenth green, but for all that you will probably consider that some further explanation of this amazing state of affairs is required. Mere bad putting on the part of George Parsloe is not, you feel, sufficient to cover the matter entirely. You are right. There was another very important factor in the situation—to wit, that by some extraordinary chance Ferdinand Dibble had started right off from the first tee playing the game of a lifetime. Never had he made such drives, never chipped his chips so shrewdly.
About Ferdinand's driving there was a general thing a fatal stiffness and over-caution which prevented success. And
Vol. lxvii.—26.
