ding, handing me a roll of
money. "Here's your share of the plunder. It was like picking it up in
the street after a cyclone has hit a national bank. I'm going to blow
mine in giving a dinner to Wallace and Kirkaldy, and everybody is
invited."

We had that dinner, and right royally did we welcome the new and speed
the parting professional. And this is how Tom Wallace, "Bishop's hired
man," came to Woodvale as its golf professional.

After the dinner in honour of our professionals Kirkaldy made me a
present of his famous driver. It is a beauty, and I confidently expect
to lengthen my drive by at least ten yards with it. For the first time
in my life I am now reasonably sure with my cleek shots. I do not know
when I have been so well satisfied with my prospects.

My apparent stock losses to date foot up to $202,000.

ENTRY NO. XIV

MYSELF AND I

For an hour I have looked at the unsullied page of this diary. It amused
me to turn back over its pages, but when I started to write the words
would not come.

A liar is one who by direction or indirection seeks to deceive. The man
who lies to an enemy is a diplomat; the man who lies to give harmless
play to his imagination is an artist; the man who lies to his friends
for the purpose of taking advantage of them is a scoundrel, and the man
who lies to himself is a fool.

After re-reading this diary I am convinced that I belong in the last
class.

I have been lying to myself for the past three weeks. With a smile on my
lips I have looked myself in the eye and told the one falsehood over and
over again. I have been the ass fondly to believe I told it with such
detail and verisimilitude as to carry conviction to myself. I told it
for the last time a few minutes ago.

My alter ego laughed in my face. I dislike to be jeered at, even by
myself. I humbly apologised. I promised to reform and confess, and here
is the confession:

I am in love. I have been in love for three weeks. It is not necessary
to say with whom, since I and myself both know, but in order that the
crimes of evasion and equivocation may no longer be charged against me,
I frankly record that I am in love with Grace Harding!

There you have it, John Henry Smith! Head it over carefully. Does that
suit you? With it goes my humble apology. Does not this constitute the
amende honorable? What did you say? Ah, it does! Good Shake hands, old
fellow! Now let's sit quietly down and talk this matter over, an