Jasper was cleaning up the locker room--his regular Monday-morning job.
As he worked he crooned the words of an old negro melody:
"_Ole bline hawss, come outen the wilderness,
Outen the wilderness, outen the wilderness;
Ole bline hawss_----"
The side door opened and Jasper dropped his mop.
"Who's that?" he asked. "This early in the mawnin'?" But when he
recognised the caller he did not show the faintest symptoms of surprise.
Jasper was more than a perfect servant; he was also a diplomat. "Good
mawnin', Misteh Coyne."
The caller seemed embarrassed. He attempted to assume a cheerful
expression, but succeeded in producing a silly grin.
"Jasper," said he, "I was a little bit sore yesterday----"
"Yes, suh; an' nobody could blame you," said the negro, coming
gallantly to the rescue.
"And you know how it is with a man when he's sore."
"Yes, suh. Man don' always mean whut he say--that is, he mean it all
right at the _time_. Yes, suh. At--the--time. 'N'en ag'in, he might
_change_."
"That's it exactly!" said Coyne, and floundered to a full stop.
Jasper's face was grave, but he found it necessary to fix his eyes on
the opposite wall.
"Yes, suh," said he. "Las' month I swo' off too."
"Swore off on what?"
"Craps, Misteh Coyne. Whut Bu't Williams calls Af'ican golf. Yes, suh, I
swo' off; but las' night--well, I kind o' fell f'um grace. I fell, suh;
but I wasn't damaged so much as some o' them boys in the game." Jasper
chuckled to himself. "Yes, suh; I sutny sewed 'em up propeh! Look like I
come back in my ole-time fawm!"
"That's it!" Coyne agreed eagerly. "I've got my chip shot back, Jasper.
Last night, at home, I was hitting 'em as clean as a whistle. I--I ran
out here this morning to have a little talk with you. You remember about
those clubs?" Jasper nodded. "That was a foolish thing to do----" began
Coyne.
"No, suh!" interrupted Jasper positively. "No, suh! When a man git good
an' sore he do a lot o' things whut awdinarily he wouldn't think o'
doin'! Las' month I th'owed away the best paih o' crap dice you eveh
saw. You givin' away yo' clubs is exackly the same thing."
"That was what I wanted to see you about," said Coyne with a shamefaced
grin. "I was wondering if there wouldn't be some way to get those clubs
back--buying 'em from the boys. You could explain----"
Jasper cackled and slapped his knees.
"Same thing all oveh ag'in!" said he. "I th'owed them dice away, Misteh
Coyne; but I th'owed 'em kind o' _easy_, an' I knowed where to look. So,
when you tol' me 'bout them clubs I--well, suh, I ain' been c'nected
with this club twenty yeahs faw nothin'. If I was you, suh, I think I'd
look in my lockeh."
Coyne drew the bolt and opened the door. His clothes were hanging on the
hooks; his shoes were resting on the steel floor; his golf bag was
leaning in the corner, and it was full of clubs--the clubs he had given
away the day before! Coyne tried to speak, but the words would not come.
"You see, Misteh Coyne," explained Jasper, "I knowed them fool boys
would bust them clubs or somethin', an' I kind of s'pected you'd be
wantin' 'em back ag'in; so I didn't take no chances. Afteh you left
yestiddy I kind o' took mattehs in my own hands. I tol' them caddies you
was only foolin'. The younges' ones, they was open to conviction; but
them oldeh boys--they had to be showed. Now that light mid-iron--I had
to give Butch a dollah an' twenty cents faw it. That brassy was a dollah
an' a half----"
Ten minutes later the incomparable Jasper was alone in the locker room,
examining a very fine sample of the work turned out by the Bureau of
Engraving and Printing at Washington, D. C. Across the bottom of this
specimen were two words in large black type: Twenty Dollars.
"Haw!" chuckled Jasper. "I wisht some mo' of these membehs would quit
playin' golf!"