r it. At regular intervals of five minutes I shall swing
my club and probably miss. It's four-thirty now; at eight o'clock,
unless I find my ball before, I shall be playing the like. And if you
are a sportsman," I added, "you will bring me out some tea in
half-an-hour."

At six-thirty I was still looking--and swinging. Smith then came to
terms and agreed to share the cup with me for the first year. He goes
back to Canada to-morrow, and will spread the good news there that the
Old Country can still hold its own in resource, determination and
staying power. But next year we are going to play friendly golf again.

A. A. M.

* * * * *

[Illustration: "I say, Nora, that woman's wearing rather a smart coat."]

* * * * *

THE EAVESDROPPER.

It may not be generally known that, on very still nights, in the small
hours, when there are no taxis rushing past and no late revellers
returning home, it is possible, by leaning against a pillar-box and
placing one's ear close to the opening, to hear the letters converse.
Provided, of course, that one has a pure soul, as I have. Otherwise
there is no sound.

Chancing to be out late the other night in a very quiet neighbourhood, I
suddenly noticed a pillar-box and was reminded that I had a letter to
post. I dropped it in and held my breath as I listened.

"Here's another!" said a voice. "Who are you, pray?"

"I'm an acceptance with thanks," said my letter.

"What do you accept?" another voice asked.

"An invitation to dinner," said my letter, with a touch of swank.

"Pooh!" said the other. "Only that."

"It's at a house in Kensington," said my letter rather haughtily.

"Well, _I'm_ an acceptance of an invitation to a dance at a duchess's,"
was the reply, and my poor letter said no more.

Then all the others began to chatter,

"I contain news of a death," said one.

"I bring news of a legacy," said another.

"I demand the payment of a debt," said a sharp metallic voice.

"I decline an offer of marriage," said a fourth, rather wistfully.

"I've got a cheque inside," said a fifth with a swagger.

"I convey the sack," said a sixth in triumph.

"What do you think I am?" another inquired. "You shall have six
guesses."

"Give us a clue," said a voice.

"Very well. I'm a foolscap envelope."

Then the guessing began.

One said a writ.

Another said an income-tax demand.

But no one could guess it.