Evening star., 1914-04-26
Drawing by F. vaux Wilson

At the time didn't know was startin' anything.
~ l was just tryn' to be sociable, that's all.
Maybe l wouldn't have been workin the line
hard if it hadn't been that sort of
the Country Club and thought had to do the jolly
act more less indiscriminate. So when these two
nashy artists trampn into the cafe in their golf
clothes and hobnailed shoes, all mudded up like they'd
been havn hard battle, has to give em the usual
golfy hail.
4Well, how did it go?' says l. beamin innocent and
friendly.
At which one of 'em gares savage and gives snort,
while the other chuckles
Il get you" says l. anxious to show that recognize
the symptoms sort of put you this time; eh,
Mr.. Day?"
Orrn Day scowl mods careless and taps the bell for
a waiter 1 wiln' to let it go at that; for, as
matter of fact, want wildly excited about this fool
game of theirs. I'd heard that either of em
club champions, and even if they'd both been Chick
Evanses, it wouldn't have made any difference to
amt got much more'n noddin' acquaintance with
the game far although bein' exposed constant,
there's tellin' when I'll get the disease myself
But Duff Nichols, the smilin half of the sketch,
waves Join EN- at their table, and before I'm set
tied in my chair shoves score card to me.
"How about that, eh?" says he triumphant
l gazes at it puzzled. @Are these base hits put
ous?' saysI "Guess you'll have to furnish diagram"
"If our friend Day doesn't mnd?" says he.
"Humph" says Mr.. Day, shruggin his shoulders
scornful.
A thin, sallow-complected, spindle-shanked party,
Orrn Day is, somewhere between fifty and sixty, I
should judge; though with his smooth face and them
quick bright eyes, it's hard to say. expect he wouldn't
weigh in at much hundred and ten but what
there is of him is most nerves and muscle But
Duff Nichols, the other hand is of these great,
hukin well padded sports with big, heavy face and
puffy eyeljds. He's the kind that checkerboard
paids, and consumes Scotch highbals from ten A. NJ.
until midnight
As Mr. Day tackles tall glass of buttermk Duff
manipulates the setzer sphon scientific and launches
out a vivid account of how he turned the trick.
at when brassied to the green the eleventh
and down twenty-foot putt for three that got
friends goat; eh there, Day? Had you PAWN
your feet after that, didn't II"
"You Isn't that enough?' growls Day. "Don't
want me to explain it, do you? suppose l could if
chose, though"
who couldnt?" comes back Nichols dts merely
of mental discipline that's all. You don't concen-
enough, Day. Got to keep your mind the game
until the last stroke For, after ALL it's brains that tell
in golf. Everybody admits that"
And for second there thought Orrin Day was gon'
to jump across the table him. "Huh Brains!" says
he, glarin over his buttermik. "Brains, eh? Thank
you! I'm glad to know it.
"Well, no cause for getting sorc," says Duff "1m
responsible for the statement. I'll leave it to any
body of golfers you may name"
Mr.. Day he glances at me, then back to Duff and
proceeds to pink UP under the eyes lovely. But he
don't blow fuse, anything like that. He just
smiles sarcastic and his jaw solid "Since you've
made direct challenge of it., says he, II shall take
up And propose to show you, Duff Nichols and the
whole club WE'LL that brains have nothing do with
good golf, nothing at ALL"
@How?" says Nichols, winkin' across at me. "By
winning the next championship"
"Possiby," says Mr.. Day, starin hard into the bot
tom of his glass.
WELL that was way last fall as I remember; and