She had come eagerly out on to the course at nine o'clock with a white linen nurse and five small new golf-clubs in a white canvas bag which the nurse was carrying. When Dexter first saw her she was standing by the caddy house, rather ill at ease and trying to conceal the fact by engaging her nurse in an obviously unnatural conversation graced by startling and irrevelant grimaces from herself. "Well, it's certainly a nice day, Hilda," Dexter heard her say. She drew down the corners of her mouth, smiled, and glanced furtively around, her eyes in transit falling for an instant on Dexter. Then to the nurse: "Well, I guess there aren't very many people out here this morning, are there?" The smile again--radiant, blatantly artificial--convincing. "I don't know what we're supposed to do now," said the nurse, looking nowhere in particular. "Oh, that's all right. I'll fix it up." Dexter stood perfectly still, his mouth slightly ajar. He knew that if he moved forward a step his stare would be in her line of vision--if he moved backward he would lose his full view of her face. For a moment he had not realized how young she was. Now he remembered having seen her several times the year before--in bloomers. Suddenly, involuntarily, he laughed, a short abrupt laugh--then, startled by himself, he turned and began to walk quickly away. "Boy!" Dexter stopped. "Boy----" Beyond question he was addressed. Not only that, but he was treated to that absurd smile, that preposterous smile--the memory of which at least a dozen men were to carry into middle age. "Boy, do you know where the golf teacher is?" "He's giving a lesson." "Well, do you know where the caddy-master is?" "He isn't here yet this morning." "Oh." For a moment this baffled her. She stood alternately on her right and left foot. "We'd like to get a caddy," said the nurse. "Mrs. Mortimer Jones sent us out to play golf, and we don't know how without we get a caddy." Here she was stopped by an ominous glance from Miss Jones, followed immediately by the smile. "There aren't any caddies here except me," said Dexter to the nurse, "and I got to stay here in charge until the caddy-master gets here." "Oh." Miss Jones and her retinue now withdrew, and at a proper distance from Dexter became involved in a heated conversation, which was concluded by Miss Jones taking one of the clubs and hitting it on the ground with violence. For further emphasis she raised it again and was about to bring it down smartly upon the nurse's bosom, when the nurse seized the club and twisted it from her hands. "You damn little mean old _thing_!" cried Miss Jones wildly. Another argument ensued. Realizing that the elements of the comedy were implied in the scene, Dexter several times began to laugh, but each time restrained the laugh before it reached audibility. He could not resist the monstrous conviction that the little girl was justified in beating the nurse.