"You might have a brother with red hair," says James. I hadn't thought of that. GRAFTING Grafting is when you try short approaches over the pergola in somebody's else's garden, and break the best tulip. You mend it with a ha'penny stamp and hope that nobody will notice; at any rate not until you have gone away on the Monday. Of course in your own garden you never want to graft. I hope at some future time to be allowed--even encouraged--to refer to such things as the most artistic way to frame cucumbers, how to stop tomatoes blushing (the hom[oe]opathic method of putting them next to the French beans is now discredited), and spring fashions in fox gloves. But for the moment I have said enough. The great thing to remember in gardening is that flowers, fruits and vegetables alike can only be cultivated with sympathy. Special attention should be given to backward and delicate plants. They should be encouraged to make the most of themselves. Never forget that flowers, like ourselves, are particular about the company they keep. If a hyacinth droops in the celery bed, put it among the pansies. But above all, mind, a firm hand with the rhubarb. GOLF CHAPTER I The documents in the case are these: _Him to Me_ "Come and play golf on Thursday. What is your handicap? I expect you will be too good for me." _Me to Him_ "MY GOOD THOMAS,--Don't be silly. I will play you at cricket, tennis, lawn tennis, football (both codes), croquet, poker-patience, high diving and here-we-go-round-the-mulberry-bush. If you insist, I will take you on at prisoners' base and billiards. Moreover I can dance the _pavane_. Yours ever, "ADOLPHUS "_P.S._--Anyhow, I haven't any clubs." _Him to Me_ "MY DEAR ASS,--I gather that you aren't a golfer; well, why not begin on Thursday? There will be nobody else playing probably. Meet me at Victoria eleven-five. My brother is away, and I will lend you his clubs." _Me to Him_ (Telegram) "Is your brother out of England? Wire reply." _Him to Me_ "Yes. Sicily." _Me to Him_ "Right you are then." CHAPTER II "You know," I said to Thomas in the train, "I have played a little on a very small island off the coast of Scotland, but it was such a very small island that we never used a driver at all, or--what's that other thing called?--a brassy. We should have been into the sea in no time. But I rather fancy myself with a putter." "You might go round with a putter to-day." "I might, but I sha'n't. I expect to use the wooden clubs with great ease and dexterity. And I think you will find that I can do some business with the mashie. What's a niblick?" "The thing you get out of bunkers with." "Then I sha'n't want that." CHAPTER III The fateful moment arrived. Thomas presented me with a ball called the Colonel, and a caddie offered me Thomas's brother's driver. He also asked me what sort of tee I should like. I leant upon my club and looked at him. Then I turned to Thomas.