Plentywood herald. [volume] (Plentywood, Mont.) 1908-current, 1928-03-09
(Published BY special arrangement with Tha
CHICAGO Tribune 6yndicAte)
IN TWO PARTS-PART TWO
THE STORY so FAR

Tommy Martin, l6-year-old son OF a new
rich family, is q very spoiled youngster.
He devotes all his time to golf and shows
that he will rank with the best players II
he can control his temper. Tommy has his
father Join a neighboring club at Renclair
SO that he may become better acquainted
with Elizabeth Graham, in whom he is
greatly interested. He becomes thoroughly
disliked by most Of the young people Of the
club as he has O vile temper and a very
selfish disposition.
And now the story
I'D seen that for myself. and it bothered
me. I took a chance in q few minutes
= and went In to look for Tommy. He
was dressing, and his eyes were red; 1t
didn't take much Imagination to guess
that those angry tears I'd seen him hold
ing back had come. This, from what
Steve had said. was no exceptional case;
he must have behaved the same way be-
fore. He looked at me, half d%ef1antly,
when he saw me.
spill it, Tommy" I said. Whats the
trouble?"
He was all boy then, for a minute.
81 don't knowl" he cried. at comes
over me, when I'm in a match! l try to
hold in-but / can't. I've got to win
I've got TO-"
VIC VI VAIN W Will 4 SdAQ oot
there are some other things that count,
too"
There aren't for me" he said. 81 can't
help It'll And they don't any OF them
understand-they all hate me-they say
I'm yellow and a bum sport"
I couldn't say much. you see. 1t was a
thing he had to work u for himself.
young as he was. The right sort OF
father. IN elder brother, might have
balpad him RYt ba Was an on1v child
and he pretty certainly didn't have the
right sort Of father. Not for his par
ticular trouble, at any rate, though |
suppose John Martin was an excellent
father. according to his lights.
1t wasn't altogether easy to diagnose
the case, even, to determine just what
the trouble was. The boy had the arro-
gance you do see, sometimes, In the chill
dren of the very rich-more often, of
course, when the riches have come quick
ly, and to people with no particular Gull
tural preparation for them. And he
must, of course, have been brought up
IN the belief that he was entitled to any
thing he wanted Just because he wanted
it. In this case, the thing he wanted
most was success in golf-so far. And
a boy brought up as he had been must
find it hard to brook opposition of any
sort; must find 1t hard to the point, al
most, of i~mpossibility. with the start he
had, to acquire the temperament that
competitive sport OF any kind 80 i'm
peratively demands.
Yet 1t was from that day, I think, and
1t may have been due to the chance of
my seeing him in a tantrum-he liked
me, you see-that he really began to
fight to conquer that streak in him. ]
watched him the rest Of that summer,
and / talked a good deal about him to
Alec. He went up and down; there were
more rows. l heard tales of clubs broken
across his knee, Of matches he refused
in a rage, to finish.
But he did improve. Our Renclair
youngsters helped. They gave him moth
ing he didn't earn, but they were, or
the whole, / think, astonishingly fair tc
him. He wasn't what you would call
popular. but they knew just o gooc
a golfer he was and could become, anc
they gave his skill the tribute of adj
miration it deserved. There were, ]
think, one or two pitched battles-mor
or less formal meetings. with the caddy
master for referee, down by the swamp
that bordered the fairway OF the eighth
hole, and he learned something of self
control from these. I saw him come in
one day, grinning, with his arm aroun
Sam Warner. He had a half closed, rap
idly swelling eye, and Sam was keeping
a bloody handkerchief to his nose, but
they were the best Of friends, and I hac
more hope Of him from that day forward
All the time, through that first sun
mer, he didn't lose sight of his object IL
coming over to Observation-Disclosures
Some of the kids may have realized hi
interest in her, but I don think an,
grown folk did, except myself. He wa
shy with her, boylike. and intensely Sc,
c~retive about his feelings, but 1t wa
unmistakable. If, like myself, you hae
had q hint of the true state of affairs
Elizabeth, / think, scarcely noticed hin
that year.
I went abroad early the next spring
and was away for nearly three years, OF
business. I heard vaguely from home