It will, therefore, be readily understood that Archibald's inability to do a hole in single figures did not handicap him at Cape Pleasant as it might have done at St. Andrews. His kindly clubmates took him to their bosoms to a man, and looked on him as a brother. Archibald's was one of those admirable natures which prompt their possessor frequently to remark: 'These are on me!' and his fellow golfers were not slow to appreciate the fact. They all loved Archibald. Archibald was on the floor of his bedroom one afternoon, picking up the fragments of his mirror--a friend had advised him to practise the Walter J. Travis lofting shot--when the telephone bell rang. He took up the receiver, and was hailed by the comfortable voice of McCay, the club secretary. 'Is that Mealing?' asked McCay. 'Say, Archie, I'm putting your name down for our championship competition. That's right, isn't it?' 'Sure,' said Archibald. 'When does it start?' 'Next Saturday.' 'That's me.' 'Good for you. Oh, Archie.' 'Hello?' 'A man I met today told me you were engaged. Is that a fact?' 'Sure,' murmured Archibald, blushfully. The wire hummed with McCay's congratulations. 'Thanks,' said Archibald. 'Thanks, old man. What? Oh, yes. Milsom's her name. By the way, her family have taken a cottage at Cape Pleasant for the summer. Some distance from the links. Yes, very convenient, isn't it? Good-bye.' He hung up the receiver and resumed his task of gathering up the fragments. Now McCay happened to be of a romantic and sentimental nature. He was by profession a chartered accountant, and inclined to be stout; and all rather stout chartered accountants are sentimental. McCay was the sort of man who keeps old ball programmes and bundles of letters tied round with lilac ribbon. At country houses, where they lingered in the porch after dinner to watch the moonlight flooding the quiet garden, it was McCay and his colleague who lingered longest. McCay knew Ella Wheeler Wilcox by heart, and could take Browning without anaesthetics. It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that Archibald's remark about his fiancee coming to live at Cape Pleasant should give him food for thought. It appealed to him. He reflected on it a good deal during the day, and, running across Sigsbee, a fellow Cape Pleasanter, after dinner that night at the Sybarites' Club, he spoke of the matter to him. It so happened that both had dined excellently, and were looking on the world with a sort of cosy benevolence. They were in the mood when men pat small boys on the head and ask them if they mean to be President when they grow up. 'I called up Archie Mealing today,' said McCay. 'Did you know he was engaged?' 'I did hear something about it. Girl of the name of Wilson, or--' 'Milsom. She's going to spend the summer at Cape Pleasant, Archie tells me.' 'Then she'll have a chance of seeing him play in the championship competition.'