"Again I tell ye, th' body must bend between th' hips an' th' neck, but ye keep jer-r-rkin' the head to look up." "But, Sandy, I've sprained my back trying to bend from the hips," protested the plaintive Sharon.
"Yer-r-r old car-r-r-cass is musclebound, to be sur-r-e," conceded John.

"You can't hope to bend it the way yon laddie does." He pointed to Wilbur Cowan, who had been retrieving balls--from no great distance--hit out by the neophyte.
"Can he do it ?" questioned Sharon.
"Show 'um!" ordered John.
And Wilbur Cowan, coming up for the driver, lithely bent to send three balls successively where good golf players should always send them.
Sharon blinked at this performance, admiring, envious, and again hopeful.

If a child could do this thing---- "Well, I ain't giving up," he declared.

"I'll show some people before I'm through." He paused, hearing again in his shamed ears the ironic laughter of Rapp, Senior, at the three wild swings he had made before--in an excess of caution--he had struck the ground back of the immune ball and raked it a pitiful five feet to one side.

He heard, too, the pleased laughter in the background, high, musical peals of tactless women and the full-throated roars of brutal men.