"I suppose we can't motor over to Potwick, lunch at 'The George,' and
play a round of golf?" said the Reverend Henry.
"Not without feeling rather--well, rotters and outsiders," said
Sinclair regretfully.
"At least we couldn't of course go in the big car," said I, "and we
should be almost bound to have lunch at that little tea-shop, and it
wouldn't do to play a whole round of golf."
"It is rather a nice point," said Henry, "what one can do in War
time without feeling that one is stamping oneself. Sinclair here was
shooting pheasants a fortnight ago."
"Well, the birds were _there_, you know," said Sinclair, "and it's a
rotten slow business catching them in traps. Besides, we sent them all
to the Red Cross people."
"The weak spot about golf," said the Reverend Henry, "is that there's
no way of sending the results to the Red Cross. There's really no other
earthly reason why one shouldn't play. There's every reason why one
should, but----"
"I haven't played since the War began," said I.
"Nor I. But I have a notion that if one played without caddies and with
old balls----"
"Or got a refugee for a caddy and grossly overpaid him," Henry put in
hopefully.
"I know what you want, Sinclair," said I. "I know perfectly well
what you want. You would like to play golf, but you wouldn't feel
comfortable unless you had a notice pinned to your back in some such
terms as these--'THIS MAN, THOUGH HE MAY NOT LOOK IT, IS OVER 38;
HE IS ALSO MEDICALLY UNFIT. HE HAS TWO BROTHERS AND A NEPHEW AT THE
FRONT. HE HAS MORE THAN ONCE TAKEN THE CHAIR AT RECRUITING MEETINGS AND
HE IS ENTERTAINING SEVEN BELGIANS. HE HAS ALREADY SENT THREE SWEATERS
AND A PAIR OF SKI SOCKS TO THE FLEET. THIS IS THE FIRST HOLIDAY HE HAS
HAD FOR THREE MONTHS, AND HE IS NOW PLAYING A ROUND OF GOLF.' Then
you would feel all right."
"Yes, in your case, Sinclair, it is merely moral cowardice," said
Henry. "But it's queer about golf. Every one admits that billiards is
all right, and--I think--Badminton."
"Well, perhaps I am a bit over-sensitive," said I, "but I'm bound to
say that even if I were playing billiards in a public place at present
I should feel happier if I used the butt end of the cue."
"The problem seems to be closely allied," said the Reverend Henry, "to
the problem of Sabbath observance when I was a child. We were very
strict in our household. We were not allowed to play games of any sort
on Sunday so long as they were played according to the accepted rules;
but we discovered after a time that if we played them _wrong_ no one
objected. We should certainly have been punished for playing tennis
with a tennis racquet, but if we played with a walking-stick or the
flat side of a pair of bellows there was not the slightest objection."
"That's what I feel like," said Sinclair. "I don't want to do the old
things in the old ways."
"We never have people to dinner now," said I, "but we have shoals to
lunch."
"It is all deplorably illogical," said the Reverend Henry. "But so long
as one has a sense of decency it seems impossible to scorch about in a
motor bulging with golf clubs."
"Quite impossible. I propose that we get Mrs. Henry to make us some
sandwiches and go for a long walk."
It was at this juncture that the morning papers came in with the news
of the battle cruiser victory in the North Sea.... We had a fine run
across the moor in the big car, an excellent lunch at "The George," and
managed to get in two rounds before it was dark.
* * * * *
[Illustration: OUR SPECIAL VOLUNTEER RESERVES.
_Instructor._ "CHANGE ARMS BY NUMBERS. ONE--TWO----COME ALONG, SIR!
WHAT ARE YOU PLAYING AT NOW? KEEP YOUR BANJO SOLO FOR THE DOMESTIC
HEARTH."]
* * * * *