Evening Star Newspaper, February 11, 1923, Page 66

“THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTGN D. C, FEBRUARY 11, 1923—PART 5. Al 2 Golf by the Doctors’ Orders Leads to Some Interesting BY WILLIAM SLAVENS MeNUTT HEIRS OF THE KINGDOM | Developments in Businss R. HARMON looked as much out of place in the big New York sporting goods store as + a longshoreman in overalls in a Ritz dining room. He was a fat, short, broad-faced, baid Yittle man with a chunky, stolid face and g walk that' reminded oze of an wgitafed afiigator. “I want to buy some things to play solf with,” he confessed to the bustling floorwalker. in a high. worried voice. Second aisle to vour left.” the floor- wwalker directed him. t's doctor's orders,” Mr. larmon 2aid defensively. “It isn't as if | want. ed to play. I'm not 1adidah.” “Ah, Snterested! left.” Mr. Harmon stumped away to the de- partment where golf clubs were sold. “I want to get some things to play Kolf with,” he repeated sullenly to the suave, slick-haired clerk who dealt in dmplements of the links. “Tes?" said the clerk. with an inter- sogative inflection. “What do you wish? “I told vou what I wish, o 7t Mr. Harmon said wrathfully. “I want €ome of them fool things to play golf with.” “Do you want a complete outfit?” “1 want 1ething just as cheap as 1 can get it. to play golf with. T don't know anything about what you use. but ‘Wwhatever it is [ got te have it.”" “You're just beginning:" the qQuertedl. “De 1 talk like 2 man that hud been wasting his time playing the fool game ail his life?”" Mr. Harmon countered Srritably. I don't know anything about i, and it T could find a doctor in this 1own that had any sense .I'd never learn anything about it either. I've spent my life in the bakery business and always when I got sick some doctor gave me mome tedicine and | got well again. “This year I didn't fecl =5 good and ail the doztors 1 go to tell me I got to play golf. So Mr. Harmon con- cluded, “gimme some things to i t with, and let me get ar it.” + % 4 said dis- to your the floorwalker “Second aisle s, did clerk TALL, bony, gray-faced man with a straggly beard. who had wan- dered aimlessly near during the con- versation, spoke abruptly to Mr. Har. mon. *I beg your pardon. he in gloomy, deep toumes: couldn’t help overhearing what you said. I'm not only in the same predicament but in the same business as yourself. You said yvou were a bake “Yes, sir,” Mr. Harmon piped, im- mediately pleased . K. Harmon & Son. wholesale bakers—that's me, sirt I've heard of you the trade.” tall man said solemnly My name is Bassett—George D. & Sons, wholesale bakers “Well, well, weli!” said Mr. mou, ignoring the clerk. of you people. Yes. I'm glad to sce you this year “Rotten! the Har- “I've heard indeed! Well, How's business waid Mr. Bassett gloomily. Mr. Harmon nodded enthusiasti- cally “Ain’t it the truth! Ever 1hing you buy gone up and every- thing you sell come down. Have trou- ble with vour help “All the time,” Mr. Bassett declared in sepulchral tones. “Nothing but 1rouble.” “Same way with me" Mr. Harmon that sort of & Bassett Harmon, “Ain’t that funny? We got a lot of things alike. Only 1 only got one son. Of course he's a hard-working boy and he means all right, but— “1 know exactly how you feel” Mr. Bassett sald sadly. “Always wanting to Jump ahead. 1 don’t know what boys are coming to these days. Once a weel is all T can spare. Mr. Harrion. 1t 1 even so much as turn my head B —— “Fe.-t want a driver and a brass; the < interrupted decisively |a mashie and a putter and a mid- | | iron—" Mr. Harmon flapped his hands in pro- | test. “1 told you before I don't know | what | want."” he said irritably. ‘“Just give me the cheapest You got and what ever T have to have to play golf with.” The clerk bowed. “'Give me the same,” Mr. Bassett said gorrowfully. The clerk bowed again and withdrew. | e returned presently with two cylin- drical bags. from which protruded the shiny heads of a number of new clubs. | Mr. Harmon and Mr. Bassett glared |at_the implementa with disapproving | eyes. | ““What do vou got to have all those funny-looking doodads for”” Mr. Har- mon inquired. *“The game is to hit the ball. aim't i7" “You need the diffcrent ciubs for different shots.” the clerk explained, “Well, I don't know.” Mr. Harmon said doubtfully. *This is out of my | line of business. 1| suppose I'm getting | stung. but I'l take the things.” | “So'll 1" said Mr. Bassett gloomily. | “Whereabouts vou going to play the | ool game?" Mr. Harmon inquired. “Qut at Van Cortlandt Park,” Mr. Basset replied. “That's a public place, |and it don't cost you a million dollars | a year to belong to it.” | hat's me!” said Mr. Harmon. “I'm | ‘ going to play there, too. Say!” his face | beamed with the radiance of an idea. | “Why don't You and me go out and ' | vty togeiher? We're both of us busi- ness men and in the same fix."” ““That's splendid!” Mr. Bassert ad- mitted with a lightening of his fu- nereal tone. “Splendid! How about Monday afternoon?” | =AU right, sir. Monday afternoon.’ | Mr. Hurmon agreed. “That's fine. On Monday afternoon Mr. Bassett ‘and Mr. Harmon arrived at Van Cort- { 1anat links. | “I suppose we better kind of watch | these fellows for a little while and | \find out what they do.” Mr. Harmon {suggestea | So they strolled aimlessly along. | picking up the fine points of the {game. After a little time Mr. Harmon the just lay the ball down and . T guess. T suppose we might as well start here as anywhere else. Acting on this suggestion, Mr. Har- ,mon and Mr. Bassett stepped out into | Tthe fairway, half way between the | |sixth tee and the green. depositing | !a ball apiece on the turf. and got | | ready to begin the process that would | {enable them to stay indefinitely A, W. | 0. Lo from their undertakers | x % * ¥ ! | A FTER some deliberation. Mr. Bas- {4\ sett decided that he liked the putter better than any other of the clubs in his bag and drew that forth. Mr, Harmon decided that a driver w: better suited to his needs. At this | point they were interrupted by angry declared enthusiastically. “And the wages we got to pay these days: Why, | remember when 1 started in the bakery busine THE QUESTION “Hew many clubs would you want 46 get to begin with?" the clerk in- werrupted Mr. Harmon stared at him he repeated “What do <lubs?" “He means golf clubs, =aid sorrowfully. play it with—elubs.” All the jov faded from Mr. Har- #vow's rotund face. He looked patheti- lly at Mr. Bassett. “For a minute 1 forgot,” he said dejectedly. Mr. Bassett sighed deeply. “ls your stomach gone?”’ he asked solemnly. “Is my stomach gone?’ Mr. Har- mon repeated in frightened tones. “YWhat do you mean is my stomach gone?” “Hasn't it gone back on you WBassett inquired No: 1 don’t know what trouble T got. 1 just don't feel so %ood. Business rotten—trouble with the help all the time and everything— 1 got to play golf. Can you beat it?" “My position exactly!” Mr. oaned. “Only with me it's my heart. | went to one of the highest-paid specialists in New York city, and he says it 1 don't take up golf the end is sure." He sighed deeply. 11, he went on. “I suppose it's etter 1o §O out to one of these golf “Clubs?” | you mean, Mr. Basseit hat's what vou | "t Mr. parks than just to wait and let delll\I avertake me. But I'm not going to et the game interfere with my busi- mess, Mr. Harmon. 1 went to half a ; dozen doctors before I could find one that had sense enough to tell me that once a week would be enough for wme kind of | Bassett | i shouts. Two choleric middle-aged men in | disreputable golfing clothes charged | down on them. waving their clubs and SEEMED TO FL! yelling: “How do you get that way one of these men demanded. “What | do you mean by cutting in on our course ahead of us” | “Ain't this a public park?” Mr. Har- | mon demanded hotly. “We got li-| censes here to play Just as much as | sou have. | got my license here in | my pocket.” “There ain't anything on that license that gives you the right to cut in on the course.” “Maybe we have done something against the rules” Mr. Bassett said. “I knew we'd gat into trouble it we came out here. You see.” he went on, addressing the irate man who had assailed them, “we never played this game before. and we don’t know any- thing about it, We're sorry if we have | done wrong. . 1t was explained to them, with some | | heat, that they must go to the first | tee, start there, and follow the cus- | tomary route. . As they made their way toward the starting place Mr. Har- mon waxed indignant. “How should we know where to start and where not to?" he demanded. “Why don't they have some policeran, like a traffic cop, to tell you how to go?” They located the first tee eventual- and watched attentively while al pairs drove off. s it all right for us to start from here mow?’ Mr. Harmon asked the starter. That official nodded ungraciously. “There's no law against your start- ing,” he said. back 1y, to play the fool game.” * K kX €6 JUST once s Week. Mr. Bass thdt's all for me!" Mr. Harmon agreed. “If 1 let my son alone to run 1he business, the ways things are now- adays—" “That's my case exactly.” Mr. Bas- sett interrupted. “But 1 have three sons, Mr. Harmen. and where they get their ideas from 1 cap’'t imagine. It ceuldn't bave been from thei: dear dead mother, because she never had any idess. She was & home woman, Mr. Jarmen. ene of the kind of people that ~an don't find nowa “Oh, yowre a widower, 007" said Mr. So Mr. Harmon got some sand from the box, as he had seen others doing. fashioned a tee and set his ball on it. Then he swung viciously with his driver and, following the example of the others he had watched. shaded his eves with his palm and stared into the sky. to follow the flight of the ball. Mr. Harmon lowered his gaze gradually to the course, directly before him, and traveled closer and cloger. until at last he spotted the ball securs on the tee at his £ “wrell, I'll be blewed!" Mr. Harmen said. and then. for the first time, he heard Mr. Bassett laugh. | wait tin 1 It wasn't precisely a laugh: more of a throaty chuckle. But there was something about it that Mr. Hermon peculiarly disliked. 1t seemed to Mr. Harmon, in fact, that the laugh, or gentle chuckle, rather, was a thinly disguised insult—a sort of epithet in code, as it were. 1t is difficult for a fat man to glare successfully. Somehow round, red faces and small eyes deepiy imbedded | in flesh, pleasantly traced with jovial wrinkles, do uot furnish a background against which a glare appears at its best. But Mr. Harmon turned about and gave us a good imitation of a glare as his physiognomy permitted. “What are you laughing about?” he STARED INTO THE SKY TO FOLLOW THE FLIGHT OF THE BALL. demanded shrilly. “What's funr “You!" Mr, Bassett explained suc- cinctly in his funereal tone. “You missed the ball.” “Don’t you suppose | know it?" Har- mon demanded. “What if T did? It's still there. ain't it? 1 can hit at it agamn if T want to, can't T " A spark grew in Mr. Basseit's dull eves; a tremor of life was apparent fn his listless. sepulchral tone as he inquired: “What are you mad about? laugh if T want to, can't I? Mr, Harmon up his ball ure vou can laugh!® he agreed caustically You got to make a mistake the first anything and then you You can laugh—yes. and let me see if 1 can time 1 fry prove it to me! Get up here now vou can hit that ball as well ax you can laugh. You think I'm funny. and get Mr. Bassett nodded agreement stepped forward. “You needn't mad about it,” he said. “I'm not mad!" Mr. Harmon insisted | vehemently. “What should I be mad about? Can't we play at a fool little me like this without losing our tempers? I'm not mad!" - Mr, Bassett shook his head as he gloomily built up a large tee for his ball. “I thought you were.” he said sorrowfully. “You acted like it. Mr. Harmon wanted to argue this point. but he forebore because he wanted to see Mr. Bassett perform. As the old gentleman, still clinging to his putter as his favorite club. de- liberately drew back the instrument Mr. Harmon inhaled deeply and got ready to laugh. He meant to show | Mr. Bassett something hearty and sin- cere in the line of mirth—something jovial and rib-shaking. at which no gentleman could possibly take of- fen Mr. Bassett drew back the metal head of the putter very deliberately and also a very short distance. He aid not swing wildly at the ball as ‘Mr. Harmon had done with hig driver. He hit it a light tap. administered in much the same style as that favored by nice old ladies when playing cro- quet. The club met the little ball on the large tee, truly and fair, and sent it sailing down the course for almost twenty yards. * ok X % R. HARMON found Limself in an embarrassing predicament. There he was with a hearty Jaugh in his system and his mouth wide open to let it out and nothing at all to start it going. Mr. Bassett had hit the ball. That was undeniable. Mr. Har- mon felt that he had been tricked. Mr. Bassett added materially to this conviction by his behavior. He turned and looked at Mr. Harmon and laughed again. It was a triumphant laugh. Mi. Harmon felt that uo one but a stooped and snalched | | asked. smail-spirited braggart could possi- bly have laughed such a laugh. “There you are,” said Mr. Bassett. Phen Mr. Harmon laughed. It was not the laugh that he had prepared. Tt was a weak, forced laugh and Mr. Harmon was keenly aware that it was inadequate to convey the scorn that he felt. Nevertheless. it was a laugh and it at least partially ful- filled its purpose. lin his dull eyes grew brighter, “What are you laug! asked. T hit ft, didn't T “Anybody could hit it tittle thingamajig vou he with used, that Mr. 1 { Harmon said. derisively. “You didn't { hit it. anyhow you pushed it | A Bassett felt that there were| | many cbjectionable qualities Mr. Harmon that he had not previously | noticed He decided that the best thing for Mr. Harmon was humilia- tion. “You've got a thingamajig like the one T hit the ball with" he said, provocatively. “If you think you're so good jou try hitting with that and see what happens Harmon appealed to the starter. “Is that kind of a thing Ire's got the| kind of a thing 1o hit the ball with?" | he demanded “Nol here.” the starter said. “That's what's called a putter. You use that when you get down on the green. The thing to hit with is a driver, like the one vou used.” \hah! What did | tell you?" Mr.| Hlarmon crowed. “That thing you hit 1t with ain‘t the thing to hit it with at ai “Is there a rule against hitting it with this thing herel” Mr. Bassett in The starter shook his head. “Neo he confessed. “There's no rule | against it: you can hit it with that Mr. Bassett exclaimed jubi- | What vou got to say about He says there’s no rule| | against | “Well. maybe there isn't any rule” | | Mr. Harmon admitted, grumblingly. as he placed his ball for a second -But there's right ways of doing +hings and things ought to be done | that way. whether there’s rules or not. There air't no rules that say not to eat pie with vour knife. but just the same you don't eat pie with vour knife, do you?” Then he added maliciously: “Or maybe you do? A man whod hit the ball with that thing you got | there. when you know it ain't the thing to hit it with—I wouldn’t be | surprised if he would eat ple With | his knife.” | “Well, if 1 couldn’t get the pie to | my meuth with my fork without | Gropping it. 1 guess I would my | knife,” Mr. Bassett declared. “Td | rather do something the wrong way than do it the right way and not do anything. like you did” Mr. Harmon scowled fiercely at the little white ball at his feet, threaten- ed it viciously with his club and slashed at it with all his strength. The little white pellet trickled lazily down the course for 2 few yards and stopped. Mr. Harmon waddled after it and savagely swung at it again with his driver, whereupon Mr. Bas- sott gently tapped his ball with his putter and the game Was on. Mr. Bassett won the first hole in 36. Mr. Harmon taking 44. They panted anad perspired throughout the after- noon. and ultimately succeeded in | playing five holes, four of which 3r. Bassett won. Mr. Harmon, however, won the last hole in a triumphant 28 and started for home much elated. “I was just beginning to get the idea of the thing.” he explained to Bassett, as they limped wearily to- ward the elevated. “You hold the club like this." He stopped, tired as he was, drew a club from his bag and fllustrated. “You hold the club like this and then you hit the ball this way.” He shifted his position slightly. “Trou- ble with me, I was hitting at the bail like this.” He illustrated again. ' Mr, Bassett shook his head dispar- agingly. “That ain’t right,” he said. He also drew a club from his bag. “I \as watching some of those fellows that do it 50 good and I noticed they »hit this way.” Whereupon Mr. Bas- sett obliged with an illustration. “Is that 80?” said Mr. Harmon, truc. uiently. “Well, I'll tell you what I'll do with you. I'm not a betting man, but I'll just bet. you & dollar that the next time we play I beat you!” “You're on,” said Mr. Bassett. *I don't like to take your money, but if you're - bound to throw it away, 1 use M:. Bassett frowned and the spark | and ‘tend to business might as well else.” “When will we play? asked, eagerly. “Why, next Monday,” Mr. Bassett said. “We're going to play once a week, aren't we “Oh, sure!” Mr. Harmon agreed, omewhat embarrassed. “Next Mon- day, sure! I'll mect you at 1 o'clock at the starting place.” have * Mr. Harmon * x k ® HE next afternoon Mr. Harmon waddled eagerly up to the start- ing place with his clubs over his fat shoulder and found Mr. Bassett sit- | | | i | Then one { form. He beat Mr. Bassett decisively. |afternoon. | He repeated his victory on the follow- | it as anybody « | once a wee: “You don't think I'd do such a thing like that Mr. Harmon demanded, indignantly. “I hope not,”” Mr. Bassett said, in a tone that implied some doubt. “But how did you happen to come out today?” Mr. Harmon asked. “My sons insisted on it,”" Mr. Bassett explained. “They said I looked =o much better last night, and they ar- gued that the thing for me to do for a while was to come out oftencr than They think that I ought to come out every once in a while for a few weeks and then maybe I'll get better so fast that T may not need to come any more at all.” The pair played nine holes that aft- erncon and Mr. Bassett won six of them. However, Mr. Harmon's per- formance on the seventh hole was a soothing ointment for his hurt pride. He did it in 18, “I got the idea now” he crowed, exultantly, as they started home, “Trouble with me is I been trying to hit like this" He stopped and illus- trated. “That is wrong.” he contin- ued. “You can see yourself, you can't hit it right like that” He shifted his feet and changed his grip on the club. “What you want to do is to it at it like this. That is the way 1 was hitting at it when T got the ball into the hole in 18. Il bet you to can do all of them in 18, maybe less.” you coming . Bassett inquired Mr. Harmon reddened. “Well, 1 thought I might,” he said, hesitantly. “The way 1 look at it is: 1f I'm going to do this 1 might as well do it and get it done with as quick as possible.” “I'll meet you at the starting place at 1 o'clock,” Mr. Bassett sald. “Bet you a dollar T beat you.” He did. He beat Mr. Harmon the next day and the day after and the day after that. He beat him every day, Sundays included, for two weeks. morrow 1 out tomorrow?’ hibited an astounding reversal of ling aday. ting on a bench. waiting his turn at | the tee H “Why, what are said Mr. Harmon weren't coming out next week. “1 didn't say | wasn't coming out.” Mr. Bassett explained. T thought you said you weren't coming till next Monday “I didn’t intend to." Mr. Harmon ®aid, “but 1 got to talking to my son last night at dinner and | says to him: ‘Fred. 1 says, ‘if T got to play golf the way I look at it is like this I'd better go out and play it and get it done with. No use dragging it along once a week for monthe | might as well do it while I'm doing it and get cured so I can come back you doing here” | ‘I thought you | till Monday of “I'm glad that's the way of it.” Mr. | Bassett said, gloomily “I'd hate to| think that you was trying to take advantage of me by coming out here to practice while I was slaving away in the office.” " MR. DOO bless my Wi sand Mr. Dooley. “childher is a gr-eat risponsibility a gr-eat risponsibility. Whin | nk fv it. 1 praise th' saints I niver was married. though I had| opportunities enough whin T was a young man; an’ even now I have to Wwear me hat low whin I go down be Cologne Sthreet on account iv th’ Widow Grogan. Jawn. that wom- an'll take me dead or alive. “But that's not here or there. avick. 1 was r-eadin' in th' pa-apers iv a 1ad be th’ name iv Scanlan bein’ sint down th' short r-road {'r near a life- time: an’ T minded th' first time I iver cce him—a bit iv a curly-haired boy that played tag around me place. an’ i'd sing ‘Blest Saint Joseph’ with a | |emile on his face like an angel's. “Who'll tell what makes wan man a thief an’ another man a saint® T/ {dinnaw. This here boy's father wurrked fr'm morn till night in th was at early mass Sundah {mornin’ before th' alkalis 1it th' candles, an' niver knowed a month whin he failed his jooty. An’ his mother was a sweet-faced little wo- man, through fr'm th' County Ker that nursed th' sick an’ waked ti dead, an’ niver had a hard thought in her simple mind f'r anny Iv Gawd's creatures. Poor sowl, she’s dead now. May she rest in peace! “He didn’t git th’ shtreak fr'm his mother. His brothers an’ sisters was as fine a lot as iver lived. But this la-al Petey Scanlan growed up frm bein® a curly-haired angel fr to be th' toughest villyun in th' r-road. What was it at all. at all> Som times 1 think they'se poison in th’ life iv & big city. Th’' flowers won't grow here no more thin they wud in a tannery, an’ th’ bur-rds have no gong: an’ th' childher iv dacint men an’ women come up hard in th' mouth an’ with their hands raised again their kind. onrL ¢ mills, * kK K G’ la-ad was th’ scoorge iv th’ polis. He was as quick as a cat an’ as flerce as a tiger an’ I well raymimber him havin® lail out big Kelly that used to thravel this post —Whistlin’ Kelly that kep' us awake with imitations iv a mockin' bur-rd —1 well raymimber him souttlin’ up th' alley .with a score iv polismin laborin’ afther him, thryin® fr a shot at him as he wint around th’ ba rns or undher th' thrucks. He slep’ | winner. | Harmon. in th' coal-sheds afther that until th* poor o' man cud square it with th’ loot. But, whin he come out, ye cud see how his face had hard- ened an' his ways changed. He was as silent as an animal, with a side- ways manner that watohed ivrvthing. Right here In this place I seen him * ox % % they walked toward the elevated after Mz, Harmon's second triumph, a lean, tanned young fellow stopped and spoke to the exultant “Well, Mr. Harmon, how did he inquired affably. stion seemed to fluster Mr. all right, all right.” he said See vou again some time. % “Just a minute.” said e young “Do you want to take a lesson again tomorrow morning?" “Oh. yes—maybe so. Good-by Harmon szid hurriedly. “At 10 o'clock?” the young man per- sisted “Yes. 10 o'clock. Good-by mon stammered. “Wait a minute,” said Mr. Basseti. “What do you mean taking a lesson? Are you going to college somewher. N 0, sald Mr. Harmon lightl “It's just a joke. Let's go'” “Introduce me to your friend.” Mr Bassett requested. “Maybe T would like to play a little joke, t0o.” “Oh. sur Mr. Harmon agreed an agony of embarrassment. “This is Mr, Carmichael. Mr. Bassett.” He tugged at Mr. Basse “I'm in a hurry 1 got a date. gor “All right, you run along.” Mr. Bas- sett suggested. “I'll stop and talk with Mr. Carmichael. You haven't got a date, have you. Mr. Carmichael? You're not in a hurry man, . Har- o. arm. Let's afternoon r. Harmon ex- | 2 inl “Well, I've got to give a lesson fin rolled over and over. fifteen minutes.” “A lesson?” Mr. Bassett said sol- emnly. “What kind of a lesson?” “Why, golf?” said the young fellow, surprised. “Oh, golf! You giv. in how to play golf “Sure!" Mr. Bassett peaple lessons sighed deeply. “My friend has improved a grear deal | since he started taking lessons from |you “Sure.” said the young man. “Hell learn. He couldn’t hit an ortrich egs with a base ball bat when he started in with me. He's doing fine now." noticed it,” said Mr, Bassett. “Have you got time to give other Dpeople lessons, Mr. Carmichael?” ure, You want to take some?" do. 1 certainly do.” After leaving the golf pro, Mr. Her- mon and Mr. Bassett walked for some distance in silence. “It's hot, ain’t ft* said Mr. Harmon at length. “No!" said Mr. Bassett flatly, “It's not! How many lessons have you had “Three,” sald Mr. Harmon meekly. “Just three, that's all. 1 thought as long as T had to play the game, I imlzht s well do it right.” | “You have beaten me twice,” Mr. Bassett grimly ve me back {my two dollars | Al right” said Mr. Harmon, hand- |ing over the money. “But there's | nothing the rules against taking lessons.” “Not in the golf rules, Mr. Har- mon. But there are rules for gentle- men. You should read them some time. We'll not bet any more until I've had three lessons.” * kK ¥ in HAT was the end of Mr, Harmon's triumph. After Mr. Bassett had had his three lessons he began beat- ing his opponent once more with mad- dening regularity. Both men took a | lesson each morning and played each They played, rain or shine. seven days a week, while the | summer di grew longer and while the summer days grew shorter, They | piayed through the heat of July and | August and the crisp weather of Sep- | tember and October. When they were not playing, Mr. Harmon dreamed of the victories he would win from Mr. Bassett when he learned to keep his head down and not press. Mr. Bassett, meanwhile. dwelt pleasantly on the victories he had won and rested secure in a sense of supremacy. Gradually Mr. Bassett improved until! he could do eighteen holes about 120. Mr. {average staved persistently | 130, in around fall grew cold the rivalry be- tween the two became increasingly bitter. They quarreled all the time they were together, with the excep- tion of periods of black, angry silence, | when both were too mad to speak. And never under any circumstances did they miss an opportunity to play together. On & cold raw day in November, when only a few other hardy fans were on the links, the long-due ex- plosion occurred. 1t happened in the ninth tee. Mr. Harmon had won the eighth hole. but he was still three |down. He topped b drive and Mr. Bassett laughed. Mr. Harmon turned. { with a shrill yell of rage, and flung | his driver at Mr. Bassett. Mr. Bas- ett ducked the club, but he could not duck Mr. Harmon. The little fat m flung himself on his opponent, - ing out wildly. The two old men went to the ground together and BY FINLEY PETER DUNNE. “THEY WAS ENOUGH IV THIM Tt '0’VE KICKED DO THE LITTLE COTTAGE WITH THEIR HEAVY BOOTS.” stand f'r & quarther iv an’ hour, not seemin’ to hear a dhrunk ‘'man abusin’ him, an' thin lep out llke a snake. We had to pry him loose. “Th' ol' folks done th' best they cud with 'im. They hauled him out iv sta- tion an’ jail an’ bridewell. Wanst in a long while they’d dhrag him off tv church with his head down: that was always afther he'd been sloughed up f'r wan thing or another. Between times th' polis give him his own side iv th' sthreet, an’ on'y took him whin his back was tur-rned. Thin he'd go in the wagon with a mountain iv thim on top iv him, swayin' an’ swearin’ an’ sthrikin' each other in their hurry to put him to sleep Wwith their clubs. * k¥ x €6 MIND well th' time he was first took to be settled f'r good. I heerd a noise !n th' ya-ard, an' thin he come through th’ place with his face dead gray an’ his lips just a turn grayer. ‘Where ar-re ye goin’, Pe- tey? says I. ‘I was jus' takin' a short cut home,’ he says. In three minyits th’ r-road was full iv polismin. They’'d been a robbery down sthreet. A man that had a grocery sthore was stuck up, an' whin he fought was clubbed near to death; an’ they'd r-run Scanlon through th’ alleys to his father's house. That was as far as they'd go. They was enough in Halsted | iv thim to've kicked down th' little cottage with their heavy boots, but they knew he was standin’ behind th' dure with th' big gun in his hand: an’. though they was manny a good lad there. they was none that cared f'r that short odds. “They talked an’ palavered outside. an’ telephoned th' chief iv polis, an' more pathrol wagons come up. Some was f'r settin’ fire to th' buildin’, but no wan moved ahead. Thin th’ fr-ront dure opened, an’ who shud come out but th’ little mother. She was thin an’ pale, an' she had her apron in her hands, pluckin® at it “‘Gintlemin,’ she says. ‘what is it ye want iv me? she eays. ‘Liftinant Cassidy' she says, ‘’tis sthrange f'r ye that I've knowed so long to make scandal iv me before me neighbors,’ she says. “‘Mrs. Scanlan.’ says he. ‘we want th' boy. I'm sorry, ma'am, but he's mixed up in a bad scrape, an' we must have him.’ he says. She made a curtsy to thim, an’ wint indures. 'Twas less than a minyit befure she come out clingin’ to th' la-ad’s ar-rm. “'He'll go, she says. ‘Thanks be. though he's wild, they'se no crime on his head. 1s there, dear™ No,' says he, like th’ game kid he ‘Wan iv th’ polismin stharted to take hold 1v him, but th' la-ad pushed him back; an’ he wint to th' wagon on his mother's ar-rm.” said | Harmon's | | Bassett The fight was earnest, but short. Within less than a minute, Mr. Harmon lay on his back, empty of resistance. Mr, B sett solemnly arose and helped tre little fat man to his feet. Mr. Harmon was weeping. “Dash it all!” he blubbered. “If I could just play a little while longer and get a little more practice, T know T could beat you. This is my last game.” “Oh, there will be days yet that will be warm enough to play,” Mr Bassett consoled him. “That ain’t it,” Mr. Harmon wept “That fool boy of mine has gone and run the business clear into the ground. I'm broke. 1 got to sel out at a sacrifice or go into bank- ruptcy. I can't play any more. | probably never will get a chance to play again.” Mr. Bassett nodded gloomily. 1 know your business is in a terrible state. I have been making some inquiries.” Mr. Harmon bristled. “What right you got to make inquiries into my business?” “I promised my sons I'd go south this winter and let them go on hand- ling things if they would lease your business at a fair figure. one hundred dollars a week?” “That's awfully good of Mr. Harmon said humbly “I don't know why you should do for me. Would your boys want hire me to work for them. maybe? i would promise them to give up golf and work hard.” “You will not give up golf and work hard,” said Mr. Bassett de- cidedly. “My sons wouldn’t agres 1o lease the business unless I got you to promise to keep away from the shop. My sons want me to go south but I won't go unless you do. If 1 don’t go, I'll take charge of the busi ness again.” Mr. Bassett smiled grimly. “That's what 1 told my sons, he explained. “That finished them. They've been trying to get rid of me for years, Mr. Harmon, and now they've got the chance.” “You mean you want I should lease my business to vour sons and go south and plsy golf all winter?™ M: Harmon asked, round-eved with amazement. > Mr. Bassett nodded. And I'll get one hundred dollars a week from the business”’ Mr. Bassett nodded again. “Don'! worry,” he said. “Your business will be worth it to my sons. They will make it pay. “One hundred dollars a week just to go away and play golf? Mr Harmon exclaimed “To play golf with me." Bas sett particularized. I guess 1 got a right to make the kind of a bargain 1 want to if I'm going to retire. I'n going to play golf for the rest of my life. 1 want to have some fun doing it. 1 just love to beat vou you get o mad.” Mr. Bassett giggled, gled “Is that you, Mr M actually gig- said Mr. Harmon bridling. Well. any fun you're go- ing to have for the rest of your life, you'd better have quick, because just as soon a& I get 8o I can keep my old fool head dow : The two walked away in’ the chill gray of the late fall twilight, discus sing the merits of various Florida re- sorts; two old chiliren who had found their childhood playthings and play feelings again: two old boys who were etarting out on their last vacation, touched with the magic of that blissful folly that Ged grants playfellows in the kingdom of sport (Copyright. All rights reserved.) LEY ON CRIMINALS And was be rea MceKenna asked. “No,” said Mr. Dooley. “But niver knowed it. Th' ol' man co: home an' found her: she was &ett'n in a big chair with her apron in he hands an' th' picture iv th' la-ad her lap.” Iy innocer (Copyright, 1926.) Art of Daguerre. LTHOUGH the improvements in phography are made so rapidly nowadays that even the professiona! photographer can hardly keep track of them. there are many picture makers who believe that the world will turn back to the daguerreotyps for its beautiful and artistic portraits It is more than three-quarters of a century since the scientific world was aroused by the announcement tha! Daguerre, a Frechman, had discoversd a method of fixing the image made by the camera obscura. It was a crud. method then. The first picture, of 2 three standing in the sun, required half an hour or more of exposure That was the same year in which Samuel F. B. Morse went te Europe to exhibit his new electric telegraph The two inventors met by appoin:- ment in Paris and explained thei: work to each other. Daguerre's plate was of pure silver 1t was thoroughly cleansed and pol- ished. In a dark room it was nex coated with a fllm deposited by the vapor of iodin, and then exposed in the camera. Still protected from the light, it was placed over the fumes of hot mercury, which developed the image, and it was then made perma- nent with chlorid of gold. This process was soon improved until on bright days the sitting for a daguerreotype was reduced to ten. sometimes to five, seconds. Even with this short exposure, however, the likenesses were remarkable. It is possible to assume an artificial ex- preasion and hold it for the brief sec- ond before a modern camera, but to remain motionl for the long time required by a daguerreotype, it was necessary that the features should be in repose in their natura) position. The daguerreotype was a positive. impossible to retouch. It was of & &oft, flesh-liks tone, which even to- day, in the specimens of the art pre served in collections and among fam- ily relics, wins admiration. The da guerreotype gave way to the cheapc: ambrotype, which was on glaes, and required a dark background to show it off; and this, in turn, was succeec- ed by the glass negative and the pu- per positive print. None of them has ever attained the delicacy or the soft- ness of the daguerreotype.