NED USES TACT
On Monday Kendall took his first lesson in golf. He appeared at Ned’s
room wearing his old brown sweater and a pair of heavy shoes, one toe
of which showed the effects of many collisions with the football. Ned
looked him over and shook his head.
“You can’t do anything with that sweater, Curt,” he said. “It binds
your arms too much. It isn’t cold to-day. Leave your sweater here.”
“But I haven’t any vest on!”
“You don’t need a vest. That’s it. Hello! where’s your belt?”
“I wear suspenders,” Kendall replied.
“So I see. Take ’em off and I’ll find a belt for you. Here’s one of
Teller’s.”
“Won’t he mind my using it?” asked Kendall doubtfully as he removed his
suspenders.
“He will esteem it an honor,” answered Ned gravely. “There you are.
Slip your coat on again. Isn’t that more comfortable? Now, about
shoes.”
“These are all right; they’re quite easy.”
“They look it! Never mind, I guess they’ll have to do. I haven’t an
extra pair. Now then, come along.”
Kendall had hoped that they would find the links deserted, since he
didn’t at all fancy making a public display of his awkwardness and
ignorance, but he was doomed to disappointment. At least a half-dozen
couples were making the rounds, while four or five fellows were
loitering about the first tee. One of them was the boy who had talked
with Ned at the football game. He was George Kirk, a good-looking
Second Class fellow. Kirk brandished a golf club and hailed Ned with
joy.
“Want to play a round, Ned?” he shouted as they approached.
“Thanks, George, but I’m going to show Burtis here something about the
game. You fellows ever met?”
They shook hands, Kirk very affably. He showed no surprise at Ned’s
announcement. In fact, he felt none, for he had become quite used to
Ned’s vagaries.
“Mind if I go around with you?” he asked of Kendall. Kendall hesitated
and glanced at Ned. The latter shook his head:
“Can’t have you, old man. This is Burtis’s first lesson and he doesn’t
want a gallery. Where’s Morgan?”
“He’s over there with Jack Simpson. I thought Wainwright might show up,
but he hasn’t come yet.”
“Pete’s gone to Greenburg to the dentist. You’ll find someone, though.
Come on, Curt. Here’s a ball for you. And here’s a driver. It is an old
one of mine, but it’s a dandy.” He made Ned’s tee for him, placed him
in position and pointed out the first hole. “Now then, just swing your
club back as though you didn’t care, keep your eye on the ball and hit
it.”
“I can’t,” muttered Kendall nervously, darting a glance at the little
audience who were watching proceedings.
“Yes, you can. Now let me tell you something. These fellows have all
had to learn just as you’re learning. You won’t do any worse than they
did the first time. Go ahead now. I don’t care where the ball goes,
only hit it. Easy back. That’s right. Now down――”
Kendall’s driver swished through the air and the ball, disturbed by
the passing club, rolled off the tee. Kendall smiled foolishly. The
onlookers smiled too, but more with Kendall than at him. Ned picked up
the ball and replaced it.
“All right. Try again. But don’t try to kill it, Curt. Just give it a
nice little rap. And keep your eyes on it all the time.”
Kendall, very flustered, raised his driver again, swung down, dug the
head of it in the earth some four inches behind the ball.
“You weren’t looking at the ball,” said Ned severely. “Once more now,
and _keep your eyes on the ball_.”
Perhaps it was only luck, but Kendall’s next attempt resulted in a very
clean forty-yard drive, and the glow of satisfaction that came to him
more than atoned for what had gone before.
“Good stuff!” said Ned, and the others murmured approval. Kendall tried
to dissemble his delight and drew aside to make room for Ned.
“Watch the way I do it,” said Ned. Kendall watched, but it is doubtful
if he learned much. Ned’s club went back for a full swing, swished
down, there was a clean _click_ and away sailed the white ball high and
far to drop safely over the first bunker.
“Rotten!” said Ned.
“Not so bad; a little too high,” observed Kirk. “Good luck, Burtis.”
Kendall followed Ned to where his ball had fallen and Ned handed him a
midiron.
“You’re going to play with three clubs until you get the hang of it.
This is a midiron, Curt. Now, as you haven’t any tee to help you get
under the ball, you’ve got to hit back of it; try to clip a bit of the
turf. And the swing is different. Let me show you.” Ned illustrated.
“Don’t try to hit very hard; just try to put the ball up near the
bunker.”
“Is that mound the bunker?” asked Kendall.
“It is. Now see the way I swing this. Get it? Keep that wrist stiff.
No, you’re hunching up your right shoulder. Don’t do that. And don’t
set your muscles all stiff like that. Relax! That’s the stuff! Now
then, have a shot.”
Kendall missed the ball entirely twice and finally topped it so that
it trickled along for about twelve feet. The next time he buried
the whole head of his club six inches behind the ball and looked up
apologetically at Ned.
“I’m an awful duffer,” he said.
“Well, you’re learning the talk, anyway,” laughed Ned. “We’re all awful
duffers when we start. Go ahead now. But try and keep your eyes on the
place you want to hit. That’s half the secret of golf, Curt; _keep your
eye on the ball_. And it’s the hardest thing of all to learn. See if
you can’t give that a nice little rap that will put it over the bunker.”
And Kendall did, and again the glow of satisfaction spread through
him. He laughed nervously.
“I thought I was going to miss it entirely that time,” he said. “But I
did keep my eyes on the ball, Tooker.”
“You sure did. But don’t call me Tooker. It’s an awful name to have to
listen to. Call me Ned.”
“You said the other night that your name was Ted,” laughed Kendall.
“Ted, Ned or Ed; it doesn’t matter. Only never Tooker. And now here’s a
bit of information for your future guidance. Never climb over a bunker,
Curt; it breaks it down. Further along you will observe a nice little
passage left for you; see?”
Kendall saw and started for the break, supposing that Ned was
following. As he went through he looked back. Ned was not there.
Instead he was in the act of jumping from the top of the bunker.
“I thought you said I mustn’t do that,” said Kendall.
“You mustn’t,” replied Ned gravely. “Ever.”
“But――why――you did it!”
“And so will you when you’ve played longer. Now, then, you’re away.”
“I’m――what?” asked Kendall.
“Away; your ball’s farthest from the hole. That means that you play
first. Give it a good clean swipe this time.”
Kendall managed to send the ball some twenty yards and looked at Ned
for approbation. But Ned shook his head.
“All wrong. You let your club slip in your hands and you brought your
shoulder up. Watch this.”
Click! Away sailed Ned’s ball, straight and low for the distant green.
It struck, bounded and rolled and finally trickled to within some six
yards of the flag. Kendall sighed. He had a lot to learn, he feared,
before he could ever equal that performance. But he struggled on and
finally his ball lay almost beside Ned’s. Then he was given another
and quite different implement which Ned explained was a putter. And
now――luck again very probably――Kendall distinguished himself by holing
out in some marvelous manner in one!
“Well, I’ll be jiggered!” breathed Ned softly. It took him two to make
the hole. “Four,” he said. “That’s the best I’ve ever done this hole
in. That iron shot of mine was a dandy.”
“What do you mean by ‘four’?” asked Kendall.
“Four strokes.”
“Oh, and what did I make?”
“I think you were sixteen,” replied Ned carelessly. “You did fairly
well, Curt.”
Kendall thought a minute. Then, “Sixteen to your four,” he murmured.
“Say, Took――I mean Ned――how many shots would I have taken if I’d done
poorly?”
Ned laughed. “You might have taken thirty,” he answered. Then he
clapped the disconsolate Kendall on the back. “Cheer up, you’re doing
fine. It takes time and we’re all duffers at first.”
“I guess I’ll watch you for a while,” said Kendall sadly.
“I guess you’ll take this driver and come over here and knock the
spots off this ball,” answered Ned. “And no mutiny, if you please, Mr.
Bendall Kurtis.”
“But――but it must be very tiresome for you,” said Kendall.
“Don’t you worry about me. I’m as happy as a clam as long as I can
swing a golf club. Don’t get discouraged, Curt. Remember that Bome
wasn’t ruilt in a day.”
“Remember what?” asked Kendall, puzzled.
“Why, that Rome wasn’t duilt in a bay,” answered Ned. “Now then, here
we go!”
They played five holes that afternoon, and after that Ned made Kendall
practice swinging his club for ten minutes or so at the fifth tee. And
then he made him drive several times, always patiently correcting and
explaining. When Kendall’s first lesson in golf was finally over he
went back to Clarke with an unwonted aching in his arms and shoulders.
There was only one more lesson that week, for Ned had to look after the
work of the Golf Team. But on Wednesday, Kendall did rather better and
was terribly proud and delighted. Ned had insisted on Kendall’s using
his spare clubs and suggested that the novice could learn a good deal
by playing a few holes alone. Kendall tried that on Thursday and did so
poorly, seeming to have lost what little science he had attained, that
he went home quite discouraged. On Friday, Ned sought him after school
and announced that they were going to Greenburg to have their hair cut.
“But I can’t go,” said Kendall. “I’m on probation, you see.”
“I thought of that and so I saw Collins and got permission for you to
leave school for two hours. Come on now.”
Ned’s hair didn’t really require trimming, but he went through with it,
and he was glad he had afterwards, since by doing so he had brought
about the shearing of Kendall’s abundant locks. Kendall looked at least
twenty-five per cent. better when he left the barber shop and Ned,
whose courage had been failing him, took heart again. “If,” he told
himself, “a mere hair-cut will work that improvement in him, what will
a decent suit of clothes do?”
They strolled along the street, looking in at windows and enjoying
themselves hugely, until they reached Wallace’s. There Ned stood treat
to a wonderful concoction called a “maple-nut sundae.” If you don’t
think it was good, try it yourself some time. It was vanilla ice cream
with chopped walnuts and maple sugar lavishly sprinkled over the top
of it. It was so good that Kendall begged to be allowed to stand treat
in turn, and so they each had another glass of the delectable mixture.
Then Ned observed carelessly:
“I wonder if you’d mind walking down to the New York Store with me,
Curt?”
“Of course not. What sort of a place is it?”
“Don’t you know it? It’s the best clothing store here. I want to see
what they’ve got there. I’ll have to be buying a winter suit some day.”
Once inside, the rest was far easier than Ned had dared hope. He had
some ten or fifteen suits produced for their inspection and asked
Kendall’s opinion and advice constantly. Then he “jollied” the clerk
until that young gentleman would have pulled half the stock down for
them. At last Ned remarked casually:
“This wouldn’t be a bad chance for you to get rigged out with some new
togs, Curt. How do you like this?”
“I hadn’t thought of buying any new clothes,” said Kendall. But the
idea, once presented, had attractions. He looked at the neat gray suit
Ned was displaying and thought that he would like to see himself in it.
Besides, he had never before really shopped for himself and the sudden
realization of his independence was oddly exhilarating. He looked
longingly at the clothes. Then he tentatively held a coat up to the
light, Ned observing him out of the corners of his shrewd eyes.
“That one you’ve got there would look fine on you, Curt,” he said. “Why
don’t you just slip it on?”
“Oh, no!” exclaimed Kendall.
“Go ahead! There’s a room right back of you. Where are the trousers?”
“Those would be a little large for the gentleman,” said the clerk.
“Just a moment, please.” In a jiffy he was back again and Kendall,
almost before he realized it, was behind a curtain in a little
closet-like apartment with the gray suit on his arm. When he emerged
Ned exhibited the utmost enthusiasm:
“My word, Curt, but that suit was made for you! And fit! Why, it
couldn’t be better, could it?” He appealed to the salesman.
“It would require almost no alteration,” replied the latter. “Perhaps
the least bit off the sleeves. And the buttons might be set over a
trifle.”
“It――it doesn’t look badly, does it?” murmured Kendall, turning and
twisting in front of a long mirror.
“Bad! My dear misguided youth, it becomes you horribly! Don’t hesitate
a minute; take it along!”
“Oh, but――but――I hadn’t thought of buying!” explained Kendall.
“Think now, then. You don’t want to lose that suit, Curt. If you put
off getting it someone will take it.”
“There are probably more of them,” answered Kendall, torn between his
desire for the suit and the promptings of economy.
“That’s the only one of your size, sir,” said the clerk. “If you really
think of getting it, sir, I’d advise you to do it to-day.”
“We-ell――” began Kendall.
“You can make the alterations and deliver it to-morrow, can’t you?” Ned
asked. The clerk agreed that he could.
Then a man whom the clerk referred to as a bushelman appeared with a
tape measure and a square of chalk and the die was cast.
“But I haven’t enough money with me,” whispered Kendall to Ned.
“That’s all right. They’ll charge it to you if you like, or you can pay
them when they deliver it.”
“I’d rather do that,” said Kendall. “It’s twelve dollars, isn’t it?”
“Twelve-fifty. Want anything else to-day?”
“Oh, no!”
“Then we’d better be hitting the trail. We’ve only got twenty minutes
to get back in.”
“It’s funny about that suit,” mused Kendall after they were across the
bridge. “I hadn’t any sort of idea of buying anything when I went in
with you. You were the one who was looking for clothes, Ned, and you
didn’t buy a thing!”
“I was just looking. You certainly surprised me, Curt. I hadn’t any
idea you’d be such a sport. It’s funny how things happen like that.
Sometimes a fellow hasn’t any idea of doing a thing, and then, first
thing he knows, he’s gone and done it! Queer, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” murmured Kendall. “But――it’s a mighty good-looking suit of
clothes, isn’t it?”