Sandy McDugal was a great golf enthusiast. In many months he never missed
a morning. Then the inevitable happened—Sandy was absent. His fellow
golfers, worried lest Sandy be ill, sought him out.
They found the old Highlander in apparently good health. Sandy refused to
explain his absence from the course until after vigorous questioning.
“Weel,” drawled Sandy unwillingly, “if ye must know, I lost me ball.”
* * * * *
There are two things that I can’t understand. A locoed cow and a
love-sick man.
* * * * *