s, though, and very
exhausting, for he loathed exercise of every kind; and his only periods
of repose were the occasions on which the expedition came to a halt on
certain small, flat lawns, each of which contained a hole with a flag in
it.

Here Excalibur would lie down, with the contented sigh of a tired child,
and go to sleep. As he almost invariably lay down between the hole and
the ball, the players agreed to regard him as a bunker. Eileen putted
round him; but the curate--who had little regard for the humbler works
of creation, Excalibur thought--used to take his mashie and attempt a
lofting shot, an enterprise in which he almost invariably failed, to
Excalibur's great inconvenience.

Country walks were more tolerable, for Eileen's supervision of his
movements, which was usually marked by an officious severity, was
sensibly relaxed on these days and Excalibur found himself at liberty to
range abroad amid the heath and through the coppices, engaged in a
pastime that he imagined was hunting.

One hot afternoon, wandering into a clearing, he encountered a hare. The
hare, which was suffering from extreme panic, owing to a terrifying
noise behind it,--the blast of the newest and most vulgar motor horn, to
be precise,--was bolting right across the clearing. After the manner of
hares where objects directly in front of them are concerned, the
fugitive entirely failed to perceive Excalibur and, indeed, ran right
underneath him on its way to cover. Excalibur was so unstrung by this
adventure that he ran back to where he had left Eileen and the curate.

They were sitting side by side on the grass and the curate was holding
Eileen's hand.

Excalibur advanced on them thankfully and indicated by an ingratiating
smile that a friendly remark or other recognition of his presence would
be gratefully received; but neither took the slightest notice of him.
They continued to gaze straight before them in a mournful and abstracted
fashion. They looked not so much at Excalibur as through him. First the
hare, then Eileen and the curate! Excalibur began to fear that he had
become invisible, or at least transparent. Greatly agitated he drifted
away into a neighboring plantation full of young pheasants. Here he
encountered a keeper, who was able to dissipate his gloomy suspicions
for him without any difficulty whatsoever. But Eileen and the curate sat
on.

"A hundred pounds a year!" repeated the curate. "A pass degree and no
influence