"Now, you see?" Russell was aggravated, and showed it. "If you had changed your stance and put that ball somewhere to the left you might have given me a chance to reach the green. As it is----" He was still enlarging upon her offence as they moved away from the tee. Mary did not answer him, but she gave Beth a bright smile, as much as to say, "What care I?" Bill trailed along in the rear, juggling a niblick, his homely face wiped clean of all expression. There wasn't much to choose between the second shots--both lies were about as bad as could be--but Russell got out safely and Bill duplicated the effort. Beth then elected to use her brassy, and sliced the ball into the long grass. Of course she had to wail about it. "Isn't that just too maddening? Partner, I'm so sorry!" "Don't you care," grinned Bill. "That's just my distance with a mashie. And as for long grass, I dote on it." Mary was taking her brassy out of the bag when Russell butted in again--with excellent advice, I must confess. "You can't reach the green anyway," said he, "so take an iron and keep on the course." There was a warning flash in Mary's eye which a wiser man would not have ignored. "Remember you've got a partner," urged Russell. "Take an iron, there's a good girl." "Oh, Russell! Do be still; you fuss me so!" "But, my dear! I'm only trying to help----" The swish of the brassy cut his explanation neatly in two, and the ball went sailing straight for the distant flag--a very pretty shot for any one to make. "Oh, a peach!" cried Bill. "A peach!" "And you," said Mary, turning accusingly to Russell, "you wanted me to take an iron!" "Because you can keep straighter with an iron," argued Davidson. "Wasn't that ball straight enough to please you?" asked Mary with just a touch of malice. "You had luck," was the ungracious response, "but it doesn't follow that all your wooden-club shots will turn out as well. The theory of the mixed foursome is to leave your partner with a chance to hit the ball." "Oh, dear!" sighed Beth. "Now you're making me feel like a criminal!" "Lady," said Bill, "if I don't mind, why should you?" "I think you're an angel!" gushed Beth. "Yep," replied Bill, "I am; but don't tell anybody." While Mary and Russell were discussing the theory of the mixed foursome old Bill made a terrific mashie shot out of the grass, and the ball reached the edge of the green. Beth applauded wildly, Mary chimed in, but Davidson did not open his mouth. He was irritated, and made no secret of it, but his irritation did not keep him from dropping the next shot on the putting green. Bill didn't even blink when Beth took her putter and overran the hole by ten feet. Beth said she knew he'd never, never speak to her again in this world, and she couldn't blame him if he didn't. "Well," said Bill cheerfully, "you gave the ball a chance, anyhow. That's the main thing. It's better to be over than short."