Why not?"
"They'll cramp my style horribly; I like to be free."
"Can't you be free in French for once?"
"Most unsatisfying. Why didn't you get boys?"
"The caddy-master says (a) girls are better; (b) he has no boys; (c)
all the boys he has are booked by plutocrats with season tickets."
"Oh, all right. Here are your clubs--the pro. gave me the only two
sets he had available. You're a bit taller than I am, so I've given
you the long ones."
I looked at them critically.
"Doesn't a pair of stilts go with them?" I asked.
"Well, mine are worse. Just a bundle of toothpicks. Here, catch hold,
Lucy."
Mabel teed up for me. I selected a driver about the length of a
telegraph pole and swept my ball away. It stopped just short of the
first bunker.
Haynes bent himself double to address his ball, but straightened up
while swinging and missed it by a foot. At the second attempt he
hooked it over square-leg's head on to the fairway of the eighteenth
hole.
"_Sacre bleu!_" he said with very fair freedom, "I'm not going all
that way after it. Lucy, run and fetch it, there's a dear."
Lucy, highly scandalized at the idea of losing a hole so tamely,
started off; Mabel and Haynes and I went after my ball.
I took the mashie, because I distrusted my ability to carry the bunker
with another telegraph pole. That mashie would have been about the
right length for me if I could have stood on a chair while making my
stroke.
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