The enterprise. [volume] (Harlem, Mont.) 1899-1926, 1909-09-22
Cell 4-11-44
Copyright, by J. B. Lippincott Co..
By Edwin L. Sabin

3. Lippincott Co..
our links; he was a villain because
he kept bearing off prizes which hats
counted upon capturing myself; he
was villain because he was SO
blamed popular and easy-going. His
wife, moreover was becoming the
champion ping-ponger in the 1bsen
Ping-Pong circle, to which my wife be-
longed.
l did not hate Jones; I hated mere
ly the sight of him and the sound OF
his name.
The crisis came one evening in June,
following upon the day of our regu-
lar annual Introductory tournament.
All winter long l had been practic'
ing in our cottage parlor-the dining"
room being given up to ping-pong
with this single tournament In view.
I was determined to beat Jones. And
now my hopes had been dashed, for
Jones had triumphed over me by four
holes lowing to luck and technicali'
ties upon which he insisted!
This was to be club evening, de-
voted to a program of music on the
lawn and light refreshments on the
veranda. And here let me cigress
briefly:
Anyone who plays golf, CT who is
acquainted with somebody who plays
golf, knows what an intense person
a golfer is. On or off the links, he
is necessarily at his game. Day and
night, in thought or in reality, he is
making his strokes. He roams the
house, Swinging" and he cannot walk
abroad without beholding landscape
of tees and hazards. His calculating
eye is ever alert and his arm is
| ever busy to "drive off, bric-a-brac
and pebbles. All, it is fascinating to
be golfer, but it is hard on property
and nerves.
So much understood, therefore. When
was sitting this evening in a chair
upon the club veranda and saw be-
fore me and below me his bald head
impulse was overmastering. He was
comfortably placed upon the veranda
steps listening to the music, and
the top of his head was on level
with my feet. 1t was such smooth,
rounded, firm, bare surface, furnish
ing an ideal lie. In the middle was a
tiny tuft of hair, supplying the
ball!
l tried to turn my attention to the
music. The orchestra was playing
'The Wearing of the Green" mel
ody dear to every golfer. But
tried in vain-that enticing pate, with
its little clump of hair, obtruded be
tween the notes. My fingers uneasily
clasped my cane. l wiggled in my
seat. l shut my eyes-no use.
The orchestra struck up after the
Ball." another golfing measure.
opened my eyes; there was the ivory
mob. with it's spot of black, still
beckoning. 1 trembled, clenched my
teeth-and yielded. The opportunity
was too fine to be ignored.
quietly arose, grasped my cane by
the ferrule, took my stance, swung
and in another second the crool
would have shaved off that lock o
hair without so much as breaking thu
skin had not a bumptious neighbo
seized my arm and violently wrenchet
away my cane. Then 1 was pinionet
in my chair, and amid ridiculous out
cry was accused of having essayed t,
assault Jones, my rival!
So, here l am, on a trumped-u]
charge, condemned to charlotte.russe
and getting completely out of prac
tice.
l would esteem it a great favor i
the person into whose hands thi
statement falls would find my wife
at the Ibsen Ping-Pong circle, an
make her cognizant of what has be
come of me, and then drop in a
the High-Hole Golf club and get me
, copy of the last handicap list, pay
! ing particular notice to the scores O
} John Johnson Jones.