He would have said more, but at this point he was interrupted by the arrival of the Wrecking Crew, who panted up full of apologies; and Chester, as he eyed them, thought that he had never seen a nicer, cheerier, pleasanter lot of fellows in his life. His heart warmed to them. He made a mental resolve to hunt them up some time and have a good long talk. He waved the Grave-Digger’s remorse airily aside. “Don’t mention it,” he said. “Not at all. Faults on both sides. By the way, my _fiancée_, Miss Blakeney.” The Wrecking Crew puffed acknowledgment. “But, my dear fellow,” said the Grave-Digger, “it was--really it was--unforgivable. Spoiling your shot. Never dreamed I would send the ball that distance. Lucky you weren’t playing an important match.” “But he was,” moaned Felicia. “He was trying for the course record, and now he can’t break it.” The Wrecking Crew paled behind their whiskers, aghast at this tragedy, but Chester, glowing with the yeasty intoxication of love, laughed lightly. “What do you mean, can’t break it?” he cried, cheerily. “I’ve one more shot.” And, carelessly addressing the ball, he holed out with a light flick of his mashie-niblick. “Chester, darling!” said Felicia. They were walking slowly through a secluded glade in the quiet evenfall. “Yes, precious?” Felicia hesitated. What she was going to say would hurt him, she knew, and her love was so great that to hurt him was agony. “Do you think--” she began. “I wonder whether--It’s about Crispin.” “Good old Crispin!” Felicia sighed, but the matter was too vital to be shirked. Cost what it might, she must speak her mind. “Chester, darling, when we are married, would you mind very, _very_ much if we didn’t have Crispin with us _all_ the time?” Chester started. “Good Lord!” he exclaimed. “Don’t you like him?” “Not very much,” confessed Felicia. “I don’t think I’m clever enough for him. I’ve rather disliked him ever since we were children. But I know what a friend he is of yours--” Chester uttered a joyous laugh. “Friend of mine! Why, I can’t stand the blighter! I loathe the worm! I abominate the excrescence! I only pretended we were friends because I thought it would put me in solid with you. The man is a pest and should have been strangled at birth. At school I used to kick him every time I saw him. If your brother Crispin tries so much as to set foot across the threshold of our little home, I’ll set the dog on him.” “Darling!” whispered Felicia. “We shall be very, very happy.” She drew her arm through his. “Tell me, dearest,” she murmured, “all about how you used to kick Crispin at school.” And together they wandered off into the sunset. CHAPTER V THE MAGIC PLUS FOURS “After all,” said the young man, “golf is only a game.”