“Without doubt,” observed the remorseless millionaire, “but when do I get a lesson?  My game has steadily deteriorated since I hit my first ball.  As Smith says, I am way off my game.”

“I shall be glad to give you a lesson any time to-morrow afternoon, Mr. Harding,” said Wallace.

“All right.  You and I will play Smith and Carter, and you put me right as we go along.”

That was satisfactory all around and Wallace turned his attention to his fair pupil.  I wonder if he is as exacting and she as interested at all times as during the few moments they were under our observation?

“A little nearer the ball,” he cautioned her.  “Grip firmly but keep the wrists flexible.  Let the club-head come back naturally.  Be sure and keep the weight of your body on the heels and not on the toes.  That’s better.  Try that back swing again.  Do not go so far back.  Be sure that at the top of the swing your entire weight is on the right leg, and that the knee is not bent.  Do not pause at the top of the stroke.  Keep the head perfectly still and your eyes on the ball; not on the top of it, but on the exact spot where you propose to hit it.  Now make a practise swing.”

Miss Lawrence did so, and it seemed almost perfect to me, but Wallace’s keen eyes detected faults.

“That right shoulder dropped a little,” he said.  “That’s a bad fault.  Let the right shoulder go straight through.  Ah, that was a decided improvement!  Now swing and keep that right elbow at least four inches from the body.  You let your wrists in too soon, Miss Lawrence.  Do not start them to work until you are well down on your stroke.  That shoulder dropped again!  Don’t look up as your club goes through; that is a fatal fault.  Fall back on those heels!  Keep the back straight, or curved back, if at all.  Now we will try it with a ball.”

Wallace teed a ball and Miss Lawrence drove a very good one for her.  It was straight and a trifle high, but it had a carry of fully 120 yards.

“Didn’t I tell you I was improving!” she exclaimed, smiling triumphantly at Mr. Harding.  “Mr. Wallace is a splendid teacher.”

“Yes, and you are a splendid pupil,” returned Mr. Harding, with a knowing smile, “but you give me a chance, or I’ll lodge a protest with the board of management.”

She laughed, waved her hand mockingly at him, and away they went.  I noticed that Wallace was not playing.  He carried the clubs and they walked close to each other.  He said something and she looked up to his face and smiled.  It was evident they had much to talk of, and while I cannot prove it, I am inclined to doubt if their conversation was restricted to the details of the game.

Harding watched them, a quiet smile on his strong, kindly, and rugged face.  He was humming the air of an old love song.

“Smith,” he said after an interval of silence, “there are only two things in this life really worth having.”