"See anything?" asked Thomas.
"My dear Thomas, it's FULL of turf. We mustn't forget to replace
this if we can get it out. What the Secretary would say--There!
How's that?"
"Worse than ever."
"Try not to think about it. Keep the OTHER eye on the ball as much
as possible. This is my hole by the way. Your ball is lost."
"How do you know?"
"I saw it losing itself. It went into the bad place I told you
about. It's gone to join the Secretary. Oh, no, we got him out, of
course; I keep forgetting. Anyhow, it's my hole."
"I think I shall turn my trousers up again," said Thomas, bending
down to do so. "Is there a local rule about it?"
"No; it is left entirely to the discretion and good taste of the
members. Naturally a little extra licence is allowed on a very muddy
day. Of course, if--Oh, I see. You meant a local rule about losing
your ball in the mud? No, I don't know of one--unless it comes under
the heading of casual land. Be a sportsman, Thomas, and don't
begrudge me the hole."
The game proceeded, and we reached the twelfth tee without any
further contretemps; save that I accidentally lost the sixth, ninth
and tenth holes, and that Thomas lost his iron at the eighth. He had
carelessly laid it down for a moment while he got out of a hole with
his niblick, and when he turned round for it the thing was gone.
At the twelfth tee it was raining harder than ever. We pounded along
with our coat-collars up and reached the green absolutely wet
through.
"How about it?" said Thomas.
"My hole, I think; and that makes us all square."
"I mean how about the rain? And it's just one o'clock."
"Just as you like. Well, I suppose it is rather wet. All right,
let's have lunch."
We had lunch. Thomas had it in the only dry things he had brought
with him--an ulster and a pair of Vardon cuffs, and sat as near the
fire as possible. It was still raining in torrents after lunch, and
Thomas, who is not what I call keen about golf, preferred to remain
before the fire. Perhaps he was right. I raked up an old copy of
Strumers with the Niblick for him, and read bits of the Telephone
Directory out aloud.
After tea his proper clothes were dry enough in places to put on,
and as it was still raining hard, and he seemed disinclined to come
out again, I ordered a cab for us both.
"It's really rotten luck," said Thomas, as we prepared to leave,
"that on the one day when I take a holiday, it should be so
beastly."
"Beastly, Thomas?" I said in amazement. "The ONE day? I'm afraid you
don't play inland golf much?"
"I hardly ever play round London."
"I thought not. Then let me tell you that to-day's was the best
day's golf I've had for three weeks."
"Golly!" said Thomas.