Judge — November 7, 1914 — page 5: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Irate person—Oh! |AH !’ came an ecstatic ex- clamation from Judge Anthony Banks, as he drove from the first tee. It was a beautiful stroke in every way, and the ball hurtled high and clean toward the first green. Angelica Banks watched her father’s drive with a disappointed grimace. She loved her dear old daddy as he appeared in his soft white shirt, khaki trousers, low shoes and rakish golfing cap; but she wanted so, so much to see his game fall off to-day ! She always came to the golf links with her father when she particularly wanted anything. She was an honest girl, was Angelica; all girls are honest, are they not? But she had a wisdom beyond her years—she knew her sire’s game! At home he was dignified, determined and certain of his own mind; on the links he was a weak and vacillating creature, prey Golf and « Girt | By ROBERT C. McELRAVY to the idiosyncrasies of a bounding white ball. He would step from the club house a strong, self-reliant man, tee up his ball and bid good-by to any form of mental stablity till he came trailing in from the eighteenth hole. The first drive had been so clean that it seemed a single mashie stroke would an- swer for the approach. Angelica, carry- ing the bag, thoughtfully handed her father the proper club. A bit of turf splattered through the air as he made the swing. The ball slid off at an angle, but rolled well toward the green. “Oh! Oh! I'm slicing to-day, am 1?” questioned the judge, squinting down the mashie shaft uneasily. Angelica heard this preliminary rumble Se Catt NE It's Scotti, is it? Well, I don’t care a whoop if it's him an’ his dog and his parrot an’ his man Friday, an’ the whole Swiss Family Robinson for chorus. It's got to stop! with secret enjoyment. A long putt fol- lowed, and a second short one plopped the ball into the hole. “Four!” said the judge crisply. ‘I usually make it in three!’’ The second drive had plenty of legs, but the ball landed in a tangle of weeds at the right. “There it goes!’’ wailed the judge. ‘‘I haven’t been in that mess for weeks! Why, oh, why should I land there to-day ?’* He lost a stroke in the tall growth be- fore dislodging the ball. He also lost a little more of his temper. “I’m so poor to-day, so poor!’’ The judge never used profanity, save on ex- traordinary occasions, but he had a way of bearing down on small, every-day words which gave them a quite unusual significance. The second green was reached on the third stroke. One putt might have answered, but the ball rolled perversely about the rim of the hole and danced jauntily back upon the green. “My, oh!’’ The judge looked weakly comicbooks.com