At Wodehouse Manor, therefore, we drive off from the front door--in
order to get the benefit of the door-mat--down an entry fairway,
carpeted with rugs and without traps. The hole--a loving-cup--is just
under the stairs; and a good player ought to have no difficulty in
doing it in two.

The second hole, a short and simple one, takes you into the telephone
booth. Trouble begins with the third, a long dog-leg hole through the
kitchen into the dining-room. This hole is well trapped with
table-legs, kitchen utensils, and a moving hazard in the person of
Clarence the cat, who is generally wandering about the fairway. The
hole is under the glass-and-china cupboard, where you are liable to be
bunkered if you loft your approach-shot excessively.

The fourth and fifth holes call for no comment. They are without
traps, the only danger being that you may lose a stroke through
hitting the maid if she happens to be coming down the back stairs
while you are taking a mashie-shot. This is a penalty under the local
rule.

The sixth is the indispensable water-hole. It is short, but tricky.
Teeing off from just outside the bathroom door, you have to loft the
ball over the side of the bath, holing out in the little vent pipe, at
the end where the water runs out.

The seventh is the longest hole on the course. Starting at the
entrance of the best bedroom, a full drive takes you to the head of
the stairs, whence you will need at least two more strokes to put you
dead on the pin in the drawing-room. In the drawing-room the fairway
is trapped with photograph frames--with glass, complete--these serving