Taking her stance, she measured the distance with a careful eye, and sent the ball off with a clean click. Her head remained bent with an almost devotional intentness. She stepped forward and covered the star with that boot which Eli Wade had so warmly praised. “Good!” approved the instructor. “You’ve got will power.” “I have needed to have,” replied the girl. Her tone was curiously musing and confidential. “May I look up now?” “Surely. ‘You’ll like the view.” The ball, rising high, had landed upon the edge of the green and rolled to within ten feet of the cup. “Oh!” she cried. “Do you suppose I could do it again?” “Any number of times, if you’ll keep your eye on the star.” “But one could not carry about a box of stars in a match, could one?” “One could. But it won’t be necessary. Two weeks’ practice at that will get you clean out of the Little Eyolf habit.” “Will it, indeed? But why do you look so intently at the spot?” “I beg your pardon,” said Jeremy hastily. “It was your boot--I mean, I was thinking what that queer old codger Eli Wade said when I went after your boots.” “And was _that_ golf?” inquired Miss Ames with a demure and candid air. “No? Then, if you do not mind, we will postpone it, shall we not?” “Stung!” confessed Jeremy. “We shall.” The bestarred second round cut no less than five strokes from the score of the gratified pupil and her even more highly pleased instructor. This in spite of the fact that she had once lifted her head and perpetrated a lamen table foozle, whereupon Jeremy gravely pasted one of the stars on the toe of her left boot: “To keep you reminded,” he explained. “But,” he added, “you’ve got to clip at least three more strokes off to be safe. That’ll take you all your time.” It took a disproportionate amount of Jeremy Robson’s, too, which, to do him justice, he did not begrudge. As a corollary to the morning lessons he took to dropping in at the Pritchard mansion of an evening to discuss some of the more abstruse points of the game, where he found himself in active competition with the picked youth of the University and the town, for Miss Marcia gathered a court as irresistibly as a flower gathers bees. Quite unjustifiably Jeremy was inclined to sulk a bit over this, unmindful of the favor of the gods in affording him her undivided companionship in those early morning hours. Whereupon the gods, as is their custom, withdrew their unappreciated bestowals. Buddy Higman discovered the golf practice and straightway volunteered as caddy. Jealousy as well as desire to be of service to the liege lady prompted his offer, which was straightway accepted. So the morning practice continued while bobolink from his daisied choir-loft (no longer invaded by balls wandering from the straight and narrow path which leads to the House of Bogie) alternately cheered and jeered at this chaperoned companionship.