Say, maybe that wa'n't some batty performance, with them two old duffers golfin' all over the first floor of a Fifth-ave. house, disputin' about strokes, pokin' balls out from under tables and sofas, and me and Marston followin' along with the bags. They got as excited over it as if they'd been playin' for the International Championship, and when Old Hickory loses four strokes by gettin' his ball wedged in a corner he cuts loose with the real golfy language. We was just finishin' the first round, with the score standin' fourteen to seventeen in favor of the Doc, when the front doorbell rings and a maid comes towin' in Piddie. Maybe his eyes don't stick out some too, as he takes in the scene, But Mr. Ellins is preparin' to make a shot for position in front of the green and he don't pay any attention. "It's Mr. Piddie, Sir," says I. "Hang Mr. Piddie!" says Old Hickory. "I can't see him now." "But it's very important," says Piddie. "There's someone at the office who----" "No, no, not now!" snaps the boss impatient. And I gives Piddie the back-out signal. But you know how much sense he's got. "I assure you, Mr. Ellins," he goes on, "that this is----" "S-s-s-st!" says I. "Boom-boom! Outside!" and I jerks my thumb towards the door. That settles Piddie. He fades. A minute later Old Hickory gets a lucky carom off a chair leg and holes out in nineteen, with the Doc playin' twenty-one. "Ha, ha!" chuckled the boss. "What's the matter with my form now, Hirshway? I'll go you another hole for the same stake." The Doc was sore and eager to get back. They wa'n't much more'n fairly started, though, before there's other arrivals, that turns out to be no less than two of our directors, lookin' serious and worried. "Mr. Rawson and Mr. Dunham," announces the maid. "Here, Boy!" says the boss, catchin' me by the elbow. "What was that you said to Mr. Piddie,--that 'Boom-boom!' greeting?" I gives it to him and the Doc in a stage whisper. "Good!" says he. "Get that, Hirshway? Now let's spring it on 'em. All together now--S-s-s-st! Boom-boom! Outside!" Say, it makes a hit with the directors, all right. First off they didn't seem to know whether they'd strayed into a bughouse, or were just bein' cheered; but when they sees Old Hickory's mouth corners they concludes to take it as a josh. It turns out that both of 'em are golf cranks too, and inside of three minutes they've forgot whatever it was they'd come for, they've shed their coats, and have been rung into a foursome.