l make you a small bet on the side. You remember that sixty
horse-power buzz wagon we were looking at in the city the other day?"

"The one in red that I admired so much?" asked Miss Harding.

"Yes, the one you tried to soft soap me into buying. Tell you what I'll
do. If you beat me I'll buy that machine for you, and if I beat you I
get a new hat which you pay for out of your pin money."

"It's a shame to take advantage of you, papa, dear," she hesitated, "but
I want that machine awfully, and I'll make the wager."

[Illustration: "... and missed the ball by three inches"]

"If you never get it until you beat me at this shinny game you will
wait a long time," he declared. "Who shoots first?"

"Miss Harding and I will be partners," suggested Carter, before I could
get the words out of my mouth.

"Since I am interested in Miss Harding's play to the extent of a box of
balls a stroke, I claim the right to act as her partner and adviser," I
said, looking hard at Carter.

"Mr. Smith and I will be partners," said Miss Harding, and it was the
happiest moment of my life.

"I don't care who are partners," said Harding, stepping up to the tee.
"I'll shoot first, and you keep your eye on your Uncle Dudley!"

He piled up a hill of sand, gripped his club like grim death, drew back,
swung with all his might--and missed the ball by three inches.

"One stroke!" laughed Miss Harding.

"That don't count!" he declared. "I didn't hit the blamed thing at all!
Look at it! It's just where I fixed it a minute ago. Don't cheat, Kid!"

"A missed ball counts a stroke," laughed Carter.

"Are you sure that's the rule?"

We all assured him there was not the slightest doubt of it.

"All that I can say is that it's a fool rule," he protested, "but at
that, one missed swipe cuts little figure with me. Here goes for number
two!"

"Don't press!" cautioned Carter.

"I'll press all I darned please. Keep your eyes on this one!"

He grazed the ball enough to make it roll not more than twenty feet into
a clump of tall grass. He looked blankly at it, but did not say a word.
Then he took a jack-knife from his pocket and cut two notches in the
shaft of his club.

Carter drove out a good one, and I teed a ball for Miss Harding. The
lane is about a hundred yards away, and I thought of advising her to
play short, but on reflection determined not to embarrass her by
suggestions so early in the game.

The moment she took her stance and grasped