“SPOON-FED”

Evening Star, Issue 19616, 23 July 1927, Page 17

“SPOON-FED”

A GOLF STORY [Written by “ J.T.,” for the ‘Evening Star.’] By 4 o’clock the Golf Club house was deserted, except for three of ns. , One was Miles Caldcr, the secretary; another was William P. Hartley, a wellbuilt, ■ healthy-looking man of about thirty, the only player whom I noticed cleaning his clubs. I, a comparatively new member, was the third. The thing that aroused my interest in Hartley’s energy was that he had spent an unusually long time in polishing up an old brassic spoon, whhh from its dilapidated appearance loosed like a gift for a caddie at any time. In' fact, ho was still nursing it fondly. At length ho slipped it into his big, locked everything up, and after binding us a cheery “ Good night ” saUHd out into the gloomy evening. , Miles Caldcr, with pipe in full blast, was deep in an armchair and the latest ‘ Golf Illustrated.’ The fire burned cheerily at his feet. It seemed such a pity to see it wasted on ono man that [ decided to enjoy Its comfort frr another hour, and so I sank into an armchair on the other s ; do of tho hearth.

“ It’s darned funny," 1 remarked, half to myself. ‘‘What’s darned funny?" ejaculated Caldcr, looking at in© over tho top of his spectacles. “ Did vou notice the care with whi :,i Hartley handled that old spoon of his? In proportion he showed criminal neglect toward the other members cf his bag. Tisn’t right to have pets in one’s bag. They all do as well as tho player permits.” Calder laid down his book and wiped his spectacles. “There’s a story attached to Hartley’s spoon," he answered meditatively. “ He said it was the first wooden club ho learned to play a Wean ball wiMi. and the thrill of the first swallow-like screamer made him its slave for ever. And I will say that he came to handle that club more accurately than you and I could use an iron.

“Now, concerning; the feminine question. it was the same with Hartley us with pretty nearly all the others of his kind. The inevitable surrender of a hardened heart calne. The cause of the debacle was a pretty little thing called Molly Hawthorne, who was one of those peaches-and-oream girls who look on golf as a social function rather than a game. “ Mollv committed all the golf crimes in the black list, from handling a club like an axe to breaking a round in order to rush pff for afternoon lea. But ns far as men were concerned she had a way with her; she could have had every single man building tees for her at any time—and maybe a low married ones, too. Hartley, however, treated her as he did every other girl —as an iceberg. Probably it was because of this that Miss Molly set herself out to capture him. “Tt was cleverly done. One day Hartley and T were having a single, and wo arrived at the fifth tec just behind Molly and Adam Simpson. Now, Hartley and Simpson wore never the best of friends,' because one day after a couplo of drinks in the club house Simpson rashly cracked a jdee abo it Hartley being ‘spoon-fed.’ Had this effort been on any other topic Hartley would probably have laughed it of;, hut, as it was, the dig rankled. “‘Will yon play through, please?’ asked Molly in her sweet soprano. ‘“Thanks,” grunted Hartley. ‘My honor, Calder.’

As you know, the fifth green is within reach of a good cleek or spoon shot. Whipping out his favorite club Hartley released a. beautiful ball whhh came to rest pin-high, and only ibout a vard and a-half to the left. , Molly' danced her admiration, and emitted little exclamations of delight. Between squeaks I managed to slice well into the rough. “ ‘ What a wonderful shot, Mr Hartley!’ cried Molly ‘What club did you use?’

‘ Hartley, about to rush forward into tho fairway, hesitated, and was lost. “‘My spoon,’ ho answered weakly. ‘lt’s—it’s—a great little chib.’ “‘Oh, let me see it, please,’ .said Molly. ‘ May I play a shot with it before you gop’ This was a bold question, but it worked.

‘Well, all right,’ replied Hartley, trying to conceal a little impatience. “ Molly, having teed up her hall to a height provoking Hartley to frowns of disapproval, managed to lungo the ball about 90yds down tho fairway. “‘The hist stroke I’vo ever made,’ she cried. ‘ I say, what a club!’ . “ Her cheeks were aglow with excitement as sho_ tenderly caressed Hartley’s spoon. She called it so many endearing names that the old hoy began to look quite pleased. And ho looked still more pleased when he noticed a scowl marring tho regular features of Adam Simpson. “ I guessed at once what was in his mind. Here was a chance to work a point on Simpson and -make them all square on tho ‘ spoon-fed ’ barney. 1 held my breath, for something told me that Hartley was going to dive off at the deep end. Miss Molly Hawthorne had caught him , “ ‘ Er—pel'liaps, Miss Hawthorne,’ he faltered, ‘you would like to experiment further wrdi this dub? If'you would play a round with mo some day [ will'let 3'ou use it as much as you like.’

“‘Gladly,’ replied Molly. “From an upright, ' hard-hitting golfer he descended to the level of a mere worm. He got into such an advanced stage of decomposition that lie insisted on building her tees for her, and he would have built them as high as the Pyramid of Cheops if his queen bad voiced tho word. To nee the poor fellow darting into the undergrowth lining the fairway to retrieve balls hit nearly at right angles to tho course was a heartrending spectacle. To sec him wading into tho big creek to rescue some others would have melted the heart of a Communist. If the little lady declared she was tired after playing three or four holes Hartley would rush her off to the clubhouse to fill up with tea and cakes. In short, ho was the very antithesis of his old self. “ Then came a climax to this devastating romance; Hartley and Miss Hawthorne became engaged. He gave her the usual ring; but, what was of far more value, he also gave her nis favorite club—the spoou. Yes, sir, he surrendered it meekly one evening on the eighteenth green after _ she had issued a delicate hint about it.”

“ But Hartley has the club back,” I went on more hopefully. “He was cleaning it just now.” “‘Yes, but ho had an exciting timo getting it back, and in the meantime his poor spoon received the most painful handling a club has ever been subject to.’

“It’s like this Just when onlv wed,ding bells were needed to see Hartley driving off the first tec for a mixed single Miss Molly decided to scratch. Reason? None that yon could see. Possibly she thought she had reached the height of coquettish bliss when she tamed Hartley, or maybe she conceived a sudden desire to have Simpson’s nibdick; the club which he needed most and which he loved well. ; .'“At any rate, just before the wedding she started making a three-ball match of the affair, and began gadding about with Simpson again. Then there was trouble, for this properly stirred up ir. .Hartley the spark of his old manhood. “ He thrashed Simpson one evening in the clearing behind the house here,

but as this function, though necessary under the circumstances, was not . exactly *i credit to the Heather Club, 1 will pass it ever; in fact, it got him so deep into the rough with Molly that the engagement was called otf. "lam glad to say that Hartley, as though awakened from a bad dream, seemed quite relieved. Only one thing troubled him; he wanted his spoon back. One day ho put the gentle question. He got all his presents back except the spoon. Hi agent with instructions to buy the club at any price was let loose. Hut it was all no good; Miss Hawthorne said she would not think of parting with it. Hartley was nearlv frantic. “ For a few weeks he continued playin" the game in a half-hearted way; hut at length the sight of his pot club being used as a plough and a stone pusher was too much for him, and he came here only when lie was sure Molly would not ho present. He finally chucked golf. “ A few months without golf made Hartley the personification of melancholia. True, he occasionally found Ins way out to the links, but he wuula do nothing more than glance over the latest magazines in the clubhouse and slink away again. None of us could persuade him to play. “At .last a 'hint glimmer oi hope came to him through the dirknoss. The spoon changed hands. In time Molly Hawthorne's affection for the club faded away, and Simpson had more use for his niblick And so it came about that for some weeks the old club was left lying in an obscure corner of the ladies locker rooms —solitary, much battered, and always neglected. “ One day a now lady member ol pleasant exnre.jsion and athletic build was fossicking around in ike locker room. She came upon the spoon, and after giving it a few waggles thrust it into her bag with an exclamation of pleasure. “ Iris Wilson was the girl’s name, and I may as well add that she was a good deal more than pleasant looking. She had merry dark eyes, the shingle cut of the times, and, what is more important, she could swing a golf club. Her handicap was six. “ She took such a fancy to the spoon that she soon made it her business to find out whose it was. On being told it was Miss Hawthorne’s she at once made an offer for it. She got it for nothing. “ When, a little later, the new turn of events came to the ears of H.arthiy, tho old lad brightened up considerably. Once more we knew him on the Heather links. He didn’t start playing all at once, but one day he took an obscure seat on the verandah, and. guessing that Iris Wilson, who was playing off, would use the spoon for her second at the first hole, he watched her with intense interest. The girl had a difficult lie-down near the rough; but, taking out the spoon, she picked tho ball up so well that it flew with, a swallow-like flight straight for tho pin, and came to rest within good putting distance. “With unconcealed delight. Hartley jumped up. ‘By jovo! ’he cried, ‘ that girl can play. What a style! And she used my—er —that is—her spoon.’ “ A few minutes later, .1 missed Hartley. I heard later that ho had been seen dodging along the trees which border tho course; apparently he had been watching Miss Wilson and her partner play their round. “Although, from then onwards, Hartley found life a little more agreeable, it was, nevertheless, obvious that there was still something he was hankering after. And it didn’t take many guesses to realise that he wanted full possession of his old spoon. “ With an artfulness worthy of a more experienced masher, lie began to make overtures to Miss Wilson. She, being a thorough good sport, and the jolly pal of mankind in general, was quite willing to take part in mixed foursomes which included Hartley. “After a few such rounds he became bold enough to challenge Iris to a single, ami, much to his delight and our interest, she took him up. Maybe the little birds had been twittering secrets, but for some reason or other everybody began to conjecture that there was more in this than met tho eye. Rumors of a hierh stake had gone abroad, and, the day before the match, it was openly stated that Hartley was putting up a new brassie against the spoon tbe.n in Iris Wilson’s possession. And Hartley didn’t deny it. “ The fact that Hartley and his lady opponent stepped out on to the first tee bright and early in the morning didn’t deceive all of ns, because quite a nice little gathering was there to see the fun. We arranged to follow around at a distance which would not prove embarrassing to them. “ In order to relate tho actual story of the round I must add to what I actually saw a little inside history which some time later I wormed out of Hartley himself.

“The first nine holes were not.very interesting. Hartley was nervy, while his opponent, swinging a sweet club, seemed absolutely self-possessed. Iris Wilson was 2 up at the turn. “ At the tenth tee a minor quarrel arose between them. It seemed that Iris, cither feeling a little sorry for Hartley, or impelled by a sense of sportsmanship, offered to lend him the spoon for the remainder of the round. Hartley, being proud, refused to touch it, although I’ll bet his eyes glistened at the chance. “ From then onwards, however, he began to play much be r ter, and his lady opponent became a little worse. Of the next six holes, Hartley won three, Iris Wilson one. and two were halved. So they were all square with three to play. “Hartley, with a magnificent drive at the sixteenth, found the green, and won with a couple of strokes to spare. Then, with the match well in hand, his nerve gave way. The standard of golf at the seventeenth was less than mediocre, Iris winning with a six to Hartley’s seven.

“Level pegging again, and the last hole to play. By this time wc spectators had gathered together on the knoll outside the clubhouse, and from that point of vantage we saw what was easily the worst-played hole we had ever witnessed from good golfers. Iris topped her drive into tho scrub lust on the left, and Hartley went all along the carpet to find tho bunker. From there right up to the edge of tho green we wore treated to an execrable display of topped iron and ninshio shots. To we onlookers it looked very much as though Hartley was trying far too hard, and Iris Wilson not hard enough. “When they arrived within good putting distance, the girl had two putts for a win if Hartley went down. It seemed to be all over bar the shouting. Hartley, with a last desperate effort, managed to sink his putt. Then the girl, with a short, jerky, stab shot, sent her ball spinning as far again on tho other side of the hole. Plgying back, she was short; the next just lipped the hole, and Hartley hajl won. “The expression of joy which came over his face was infectious; we all grinned and waved congratulations. Suddenly a, new line of thought struck him. He frowned down upon Iris Wilson’s bright little face just as she was about to hand over the spoon. “‘Miss Wilson,’ he said sharply, ‘I can’t accept that club; you let mo win. Fool that I was not to see it before.’ “ ‘ No, no! ’ she cried, blushing furiously, ‘I am very erratic sometimes. Anyhow, the club is yours really. I heard all ’

I “‘Nonsense,’ snapped Hartley, ‘I I absolutely refuse to take the club. It’s jours, and we will, not discuss the matter any further.’ “ ‘ Very well, then,’ answered Iris, looking very much subdued in the face o:/ this masculine wrath, ‘wo will leave ; firings as they stand.’ “ The two players, looking straight ahead, silently ascended the slope to i the clubhouse. And in this way the strange match came to an end.” < “ Women are funny things,” said Calder, after a pause, “ I reckon the

man that understands them best never attempts to understand them. What do you say, old man? ” “Maybe you are right,” I answeVed. “ But you haven’t finished the story yet. How does the spoon happen to be in Hartley’s possession now? Did tho girl make him take it in the end? ” “No, hut she tried again and again to give it to him, and the two squabbled so much about it that they fell in love with each other. Finally he told her that he would nob .accept the spoon unless she gave herself with it. She did, and now the old club is in the family.” “ J see,” I murmured, “ Dear old spoon, eh? No wonder Hartley was nursing it a while ago.” “ That’s right. I daresay Mrs Hartley's at home nursing the other pet.” “ It’s spoon-fed, perhaps,” I ventured. “ Undoubtedly,” said Calder. (The End.)