The Marshall republican., 1910-02-18

was a villain because he was &c
blamed popular and easy.going. His
wife, moreover, was becoming tbs
champion ping-ponger in the Ibsen
Ping-Pong circle, to which my wife be.
longed.
did not hate Jones; l hated mere
ly the sight of him and the sound of
his name.
The crisis came m evening in June,
following upon the day of our regu-
lar annual Introductory tournament.
All winter long | had been practic.
ing in Jul cottage parlor--the dining.
room being given up to ping.pong-
with this single tournament in view.
l was determined to beat Jones. And
nov my hopes had been dashed, for
Jones had triumphed over me by four
holes lowing to luck and technicali.
ties upon which he i~nsisted)!
This was to be a club evening, de
voted to a program of music on the
lawn and light refreshments on the
reranda. And here let LIE digress
briefly:
Anyone who plays golf, or who is
acquainted with somebody who plays
golf, knows what an intense person
n Gofer is. On or OF 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 be- oiding a landscape
of tees and hazards. Ills calculating
eye is ever alert and his arm Is
ever busy to drive o." bric.a.brac
and pebbles. All, Il is fascinating to
be a golfer, but 1t 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
waiting like a positive challenge, the
impulse was overmastering. He was
comfortably placed upon the veranda
steps listening to the music, and
the top Of his head was on a level
with my feet. 1t was such q smooth,
rounded, firm, bare surface, furnish
ing an ideal lie. In the middle was a
tiny tuft Of hair, SUPPLYING the
ball!
tried to turn ay attention to the
music. The orchestra was playing
THE Wearing OF the Green" a mel.
ody dear to every golfer. But !
tried in vain-that ent!cing pate, with
Its little clunp Of hair, obtruded be.
tween the notes. My fingers uneasily
clasped my cane. l wiggled in my
seat. I shut my eyes-no use.
The orchestra struck up After the
Ball." another golflng measure. ]
opened my eyes; there was the ivory
mob, with its spot of black, still
reckoning. l trembled, clenched my
teeth-and yielded. The opportunity
vas too fine to be ignored.
l quietly arose, grasped my cane by
the f%errule, took my stance, swung,
and in another second the crook
would have shaved off that lock OF
hair without SO much as breaking the
skin had not d bumptious neighbor
seized my arm and violently wrenched
away my cane. Then / was pipioned
In my chair, and amid a ridiculous out
cry was accused of having essayed to
assault Jones, my rival!
So, here I am, on a trumped-up
charge, condemned to charlotte-russe,
and getting completely out of prac-
tice.
I would esteem 1t a great favor If
the person into whose hands this
statement falls would find my wife,
at the Ibsen Ping-Pong circle, and
make her c~ognizant of what has be.
come of me, and then drop in at
the High'Hole Golf club and get me a
copy of the last handicap list, pay
Ing particular notice to the scores of
John Johnson Jones.