I saw, dropping it almost at LaHume's feet. He bowed again, twirled the
stick about his fingers, and then turned and went toward the farmhouse.

[Illustration: "Fore"]

"Well, what do you think of the cold nerve of that clodhopper?"
exclaimed LaHume, staring at the retreating figure of Wallace. "I
presume he has ruined that new ball."

"Not with that stroke," I said. "I wish I could make as good an approach
with any club in my bag as he did with that improvised cane."

I picked up the ball and found that there was not a blemish on it.

"Wasn't he a handsome young gentleman?" murmured Miss Lawrence, whose
eyes had been fixed on Wallace until he vanished behind a clump of
trees. "Who is he?"

"Gentleman?" laughed LaHume, teeing the ball. "He's a farm labourer; old
Bishop's hired man. One of his duties is to deliver milk every morning
at the club house."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Miss Lawrence. "I presume it is impossible for him
to attend to such duties and remain a gentleman."

"Not impossible, but highly improbable," laughed young LaHume, unaware
that he was treading on thin ice.

"My father made his start in that way, and before he died there were
many who called themselves gentlemen who were glad to associate with