HOLING IN ONE

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXII, Issue 22140, 20 June 1935, Page 5

HOLING IN ONE

BY AARON SMITH

The man in the car was appreciating the view of the Firth, but was not so enwrapped in it not to notice the child Tun out of the hcdgeway immediately in front. Quickly he jammed on the brakes and turned- over to the other Bide of the road, but it was only by inches that he missed the tall girl who, as suddenly, appeared from the field gates on the opposite side. '1 here was a breathless silence for a moment as each sought to regain composure; the child was the iirst to recover and, droping the flowers she had been tightly clutching, ran quickly away. Both man and girl had been looking at her, and now they turned to each other and heaved sighs of relief.

" I hope I didn't touch you," said the man, raising his cap. " Not at all," said she. " How you managed to miss us both I don't know." '

" Luck, I expect, and an instinctive reaction, I suppose. But can 1 give you a lift?" he added, suddenly appreciating the lurking dimple and the hazel eyes of this vis-a-vis.

" Thank you, replied, smiling at his sudden interest, and now he Eaw the dimple properly in action. " There's a short cut across here to the hotel, and I v promised to meet my father. Good morning."

" Good morning," he replied—but he did not immediately start the car; instead he sat looking across the fields until a sudden idea struck him. He would stay at the hotel; there could only be one in a place that size, then he would get to know her. At any rate he was a free lance for the next fortnight, and he sighed as he thought of the quickly approaching end of his leave; not altogether sadly, however, for he had few relations and almost no friends in this England which had seemed to change so much in the last five years.

He started the car and, carefully rounding the corner at the bottom of the lane, drew- up at the gateivay to the hotel which stood high up on the cliff looking out across the Firth, while below straggled the tiny fishing village which could not by any stretch of imagination be called a seaside resort.

A smiling maid informed him that there was no room vacant in the hotel, but seeing his . disappointed face and liking him, for lie was your typical blue-eyed, clean-limbed Knglishman of the tropics, said she would see the manageress. She told him there was no real room, but that if he was very keen there was an attic which he could have. Quickly he accepted what was offered, signed the register—"G. Hemingway, British Guiana" —and was shown to the attic which, in spite of its smallness, still had a wonderful view, this time across the golf links at the biick of the hotel. Sitting on the bod ho smiled. Well, he thought, even if she won't know me, I've got my clubs, and that looks a sporting course. So after a wash and brush-up he descended to the lounge just as tea was being served.

A few minutes later his hazel-eyed acquaintance entered the room accompanied by a thick-set man of medium height, tho effect of whoso good-

A SHORT STORY

(GOP f RIGHT)

nature:! .face and crop of white hair was somewhat discounted by a very determined chin. The girl smiled involuntarily as she saw him drinking his tea, but turned immediately to her father and continued talking. Did she suspectP The hotel, though excellent, was not large, and the next day, after lunch, Hemingway managed to drop into conversation with her father. He was a Colonel Grieves, retired on half pay, with oue great passion—golf—and was really interested when he learned Hemingway's handicap was two. They talked of the nine-hole course behind, which Hemingway had tried that morning for the first time, and fixed up a game for the following morning.

It was a short cry from this to an introduction to Anne, his daughter, and in the days that followed. Hemingway came to know and love not only the dimple and the hazel eyes, but Anne's bright and womanly personality, for though there was nothing of the clinging type about her, as her father said: "She plays a rattling good game of golf—for a girl," and she had a woman's sympathy for Hemingway's loneliness and displayed a surprising interest in his life out in British Guiana.

Some days they played golf together, others they motored or walked and found some delightful spots on that little frequented Solway Coast and each found a good deal to say to the other. Hemingway told her of his engineering work, of the bridge they were building out there and of the promotion he hoped for when it was finished. Anne told him of her life in Scotland, where she was the only one left with her father, for her mother had died many years ago and her only brother was married and in India. She herself had lived there and regretted leaving it on her father's retirement. She told him frankly that she envied his life out there and so four days before the end of his leave, lie summoned up the courage to ask her to be his wife.

" I have little to offer you, Anne, until the bridge is finished; you would have to rough it out there and 1 am not dead sure of promotion, but if you will " iiere he broke off and looked across the Firth and then back at her. The look in her eyes gave courage, and he took her in his arms. So far, so good, but in four day's time he was to leave Southampton and it would bo three years before he returned. Anne was willing to marry him then and there, but her father refused his permission; he argued very sensibly that they had not known each other long enough, that a fortnight in the summer on holiday did not mean that they could live happily for three years abroad. Colonel Grieves was sorry for them, but refused to give way, and the next morning, after a lengthy but unyielding argument, they went out for a round of golf. Usually Colonel Grieves had played with a friend of his, a Mr. Fellows, an Indian friend formerly in .the Civil Service, but ho had been called away the day before. An urgent telegram had come —in fact the maid even had to go on to the links to find him. In the meantime, Anne and George had sometimes gone out ostensibly to play golf, too, but they were always a little vague as to scores. To-day, however, all three settled to business, Anne and George seeking distraction and getting some relief out of good, hard hitting, while the Colonel forgot everything once he was on the links. They approached the sixth, the most difficult hole on the course, which was always interesting. The green lay beyond a group of trees slightly to the left and behind them,

and though not long it was necessary to take two strokes, at least, to get on the green. The record for it was two and people said that was a fluke. As George was trying a preliminary swing, for it was his honour, he looked meditatively at the group of trees and said, " 1 wonder if it is possible to hole in one from here." " Hole in one," said the Colonel. " Why, man, I'd say you could bet anything on an off chance, like that, there's not one in a million." " Tell you what, I'll have a shot and if, by any chance, I succeed, I marry Anne immediately." " Um —urn —yes —for you can't possibly do it, man. Why the lie of the land forbids it," he answered. " Well, anyhow, I'll have a shot at it." So saying, he carefully teed his ball, and taking his direction carefully, he drove hard and well. The ball rose and travelled beautifully; it was a lovely length and not a touch of " slice " about it, and it disappeared gracefully well in the line of the green. "Jolly good shot, sir!" cried the Colonel. " I didn't think it could be done; with a bit of luck it will be on the green but I can't see you getting Anne."

He turned and saw Anne's eyes. There was a shining look of expectancy in them, and even George had a calculating look and a straight mouth, as though he dare not let himself hope. They played the hole and Anne, in her haste, took five to get near the green—the worst golf she had played since she left school.

Near the green, all three looked eagerly round, but none dared approach the hole, even Anne realised that that was too much to hope for, so they searched tor George's ball and finally had to give it up. George and Anne had a final look while the Colonel putted, for it was obviously his hole. A minute or so later, the Colonel asked in a rather strange tone, " What were you playing with, Hemingway?"

" A green ' Flier ' with one bad chip in it." " Then you've done it, man; it's here in the hole."

With a wry face the Colonel faced •the consequences. They packed hurriedly and went to London, where a day before they sailed George and Anne were married quietly in a register office near Waterloo, and the next day they left for British Guiana.

He returned the next day, somewhat lonely and forlorn, to the little hotel by the Firth, and was glad to see that Fellows had returned. They gossiped over a whisky and soda, and Colonel Grieves said he had just returned from his daughter's wedding. " What to that chap, Hemingway?" asked Fellows. " A jolly good man, I believe; a friend of mine knew his father well —plays a good game of golf, too, 1 noticed. iiy the way, you know that Lizzie had to come on to the links with .that fool telegram of mine. Well, I'd just done the sixth in three. 1 had hoped once it would be a two, but my second dropped just short of the hole, and in my haste.l left my ball in the hole. Not a particularly good find for anyone, however, it was only a green ' Flier,' and badly chipped at one side."