Argosy All-Story Weekly, June 13, 1925 — page 151: what you’re looking at

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

MR. MONFRENT’S “No bet,” Arthur demurred. “A job with work attached or nothing.” Mr. Monfrent was tempted to make an issue, to scotch this sedition in embryo, but fear for the effect on his son’s game held him back. He determined to substitute diplomacy for force. “Very well,’ he agreed, with simulated resignation. “ You can have the manager- ship of the new ladies’ hat department. But if you don’t make good,” he warned, “ out you go.” ‘“ Fair enough,” said Arthur. “ I'll make good.” Mr. Monfrent did not like the cheerful way in which his son grinned, but he de- cided to let the display of unwarranted con- fidence pass without a comment. IV. Mr. MonFRENT paced the lawn before the clubhouse with increasing nervousness. ‘He had had a bad morning, directly trace- able to Arthur’s non-appearance for break- fast. “Mr, Arthur hasn’t been home at all, sir,” the butler answered his inquiry for his son. ‘He telephoned to say he would meet you at the club this afternoon, sir.” Devilish situation on the day of the Father and Son final, Matter of fact, the whole tournament had been a week of devilish situations, one crowning the other. Lucky Arthur and himself had been drawn ‘in the lower half and Jerry Phillips with his boy, Joe, in the upper. Otherwise the Monfrents never would have survived to the finale. Why, he actually had had to carry Arthur along once; shoot away above him- self to win on the eighteenth. The boy’s golf had gone to pieces. He was paying altogether too much at- tention to his new job. What in thunder could Arthur want with the managership of the ladies’ hat department? The thing was a white elephant without a decent de- signer; and designers were not exactly lan- guishing on every doorstep. He had even told his son as much, but the boy only laughed. Wanted a man’s-sized job, did he? Con- fident he could get a good designer, was he? FOURSOME. 623 What under the sun was the matter with the youth of the times? So Mr. Monfrent reflected, moodily stir- ring tufts of grass with his boot-tips. Jerry Phillips passed on his way to the locker room. “If you have tears to shed, prepare,” he warned, gloatingly. ‘“‘ Going to trim you again this afternoon—like Pinehurst and Garden City.” Mr. Monfrent roused himself to a retort. “You couldn’t trim us if you got us in a barber's shop,” he said, but his heart was not in the defiance. He peered about anxiously, looking for Arthur. His son was not in sight. On the veranda he saw Mrs. Gerhard, but he stifled his first impulse to walk over to her, much as he would have appreciated her comfort- ing company. Hadn’t the woman let him infer that she played a rotten game, and hadn’t he seen her one morning lately practising driving? Shot after shot straight as the flight of light down the fairway—and good distance, too; remarkable distance for a woman. What did she mean by deceiving him? He made a few more petulant kicks at the turf on the strength of this competi- tion. Anxiety, or some kindred emotion, finally conquering him, he walked slowly to the veranda. “Ts the doughty warrior ready for the fray?” Mrs. Gerhard greeted as he ap- proached. ‘““ Most unready,” he answered. “ Have you by any chance seen Arthur about?” “T left him at the car. He'll be here any minute,” Mrs. Gerhard informed him. Mr. Monfrent grunted, usually a preli- minary to a particularly caustic remark. In this instance none was forthcoming. Arthur appeared, strolling slowly down the gravel towards the clubhouse, with a fetching girl on his arm. Even while he railed inwardly at this dereliction from duty, Mr. Mon- frent recognised her attractiveness. His son halted beneath. ““ Meet you in the locker room,” he called and went on. The girl started to climb the steps to the veranda, pausing to return Arthur’s wave as he rounded the corner of the building. COMMUG DOOK in EO