of Vichy and milk. When the suds rolled up I gave the Vichy stuff the sad eye and Lionel caught the gaze. I could see that he wanted to back pedal right then, but he waited until the next round and then he waded out among the high boys. It was the bluff of his life. His limit on bug bitters was imported ginger ale with a piece of lime in it. When he was out roystering and didn't care what became of him he would tell the bartender to add a dash of phosphates. But now he made up his mind to splash around in the tide waters just because the lady was looking on. Lionel felt that the future was at stake and he must cut out the saw-dust extracts and get busy with the grown-up booze. After the first high ball Lionel began to chatter and mention money. The mocking birds were singing down on the old bayou, and he began to give Clara Jane the loving leer. She grew a bit uneasy and wanted to start the paddle wheels, but I signaled to the waiter because I wished her to see her Society slob at his best. At first he insisted upon dragging out a basket of Ruinart, and he wanted to order rubber boots so we could slosh around in it. But I steered him off and he went all the way up the hill and picked out another high fellow. When the second high was under cover he reached over and patted Clara Jane on the hand. He wanted to lead her away to Paris and show her everything that money could buy. When she gave him the "Sir!" gag he apologized and said he didn't mean Paris, he meant the Pan-American. Then he smiled feverishly and opened a package of hiccoughs. When Clara Jane and I moved out on the links Lionel was watching the floor and trying to pick out a spot that didn't go 'round and 'round. His chips were all in and he was Simon with the Souse, for sure. Clara Jane said, "What a ridiculous person!" but what she meant was, that that would be about all from Lionel. Then we chartered a couple of caddie boys and started in to render a few choice selections on the clubs. My caddie boy's name was Mike, and he looked the part. The first crack out of the box I lost my ball and Mike found it under his left eye. I gave him a quarter to square myself and he said I could hit him on the other eye for ten cents more. I made the first hole in 26, and felt that there was nothing more to live for. Clara Jane could have made it in 84, but she used up her nerve watching a cow in the lot about two miles away. My lady friend is a quitter when it comes to cows. Then we decided to stop playing and walk around the links just so we could say that we had seen most of the United States of America. Out near the Fifth hole we met young Mil Roberts and Frank Jenvey. They were playing a match for 60 cents a side and they were two busy boys, all right, all right. Mil had his sleeves rolled up to show 

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