aspire to the Presidency of the United States.' And what do you suppose
he said to me?"

I assured him that I had not the slightest idea.

"'Mr. Harding,' he said to me in perfect seriousness, when I attempted
to put this presidential bee in his bonnet, 'Mr. Harding, I would rather
be able to drive a golf ball two hundred and fifty feet than be
President of the United States for life.' That's what he said, and I
told him he was crazy, and he is so mad at me that I don't dare go near
him."

"Didn't he say two hundred and fifty yards?" asked Carter, who had been
listening intently. "Two hundred and fifty feet is no drive."

"Mebbe it was yards," admitted Harding, disgusted that Carter ignored
the point of his story, "but let me tell you that I'd rather be
President of the United States for one minute than to be able to drive
one of those little pellets two hundred and fifty miles! I'll tell you
what I'll do!" he exclaimed, turning fiercely on both of us. "I never
tried to play this idiotic game in my life, but I'll bet the Scotch and
soda for the three of us that I can drive a ball further than either of
you."

"That would hardly be fair," I protested, though I was delighted at the
chance to take some of the conceit out of him. I have seen many of his
type before, and it is a pleasure to witness their downfall.

"Why wouldn't it be fair?" he demanded.