There the matter stopped. It was a joke, of course, and both men realized it, but any joke in which Aurora North had a part was the joke for them. A week passed before Patricia completed her plans and in the meanwhile everybody had forgotten all about her amazing proposition. It was, therefore, with surprise and not a little amusement that McLemore and Ventnor received the dainty notice in Patricia's handwriting, which advised them that the Cross Country Match would be played off on the following Thursday afternoon, at two o'clock. Jimmy McLemore smiled at a photograph on the desk in his library, but later in the day after a talk over the telephone with Aurora he got a mashie, and a heavy mid-iron from his bag and went out in his own cow-pasture to practice. Steve Ventnor in his office in the city turned the note over in his fingers and frowned. Thursday was his busiest day, but he realized that he had given his promise and that if McLemore played he must. It was a very silly business. Several things mystified him, however. What did Patricia mean, for instance, by the absurd lines at the bottom of his invitation? "Aurora will caddy for you; and don't wear a crimson vest--there's nothing to be gained by it." On a slip of paper enclosed were the _local rules_: (1) The first ball and every fourth ball thereafter may be played from a rubber tee. (2) A ball in "casual" water may be lifted and dropped without penalty. (3) Running brooks, ponds, rocks, fences, etc., are natural hazards, and must be played over as such. (4) A lost ball means the loss of one stroke, but not of distance. A ball may be dropped within twenty-five yards of the spot where ball disappeared. (5) _The match must be finished_ within four hours. The competitor who for any reason fails to finish loses the match. Steve Ventnor smiled as he read, but in spite of his golf sense, which is like no other sense in the world, felt himself gently warming to the project. He would go of course--for Aurora was to caddy for him. CHAPTER XX Even Mortimer Crabb was excluded from that charming luncheon of four. It was very informal and great was the merriment at Patricia's expense, but through it all she smiled calmly at their scepticism--as Columbus at Salamanca must have smiled, if he ever did, or Newton or Edison, or any others of the world's great innovators. "Cross-country golf," she continued proudly to assert, "is the golf of the New Era." "Do you really mean it, Patty?" asked Aurora seriously, when the men had gone upstairs to change. "Of course I do, Aurora. The Ancient and Honorable Game has its limitations. Cross-country golf has none. You'll see, my dear, in ten years, they'll be playing distance matches between New York and Philadelphia--the fewest strokes in the shortest time--that _will_ be a game." "And who'll pay for the lost balls?" asked Aurora, laughing.