Now let me show you just one little thing about your stance." With generous enthusiasm he showed his brother not only one little thing, but two or three that should be a buckler to him in time of need; and his brother thanked him, and so authoritative was the platform manner of Merle that he nearly said "Yes, sir." After which Patricia played a brassy shot, and they all went to find Merle's ball among the oaks.

After that they went on to Wilbur's ball, which--still without a trace of form--he dropped on the green with a mashie, in spite of Merle's warning that he would need a mid-iron to reach it.
They drove, and again Merle lectured upon the three reasons why his ball came to rest in a sand trap that flanked the fairway.

He seemed to feel this information was expected from him, nor did he neglect a generous exposition of his brother's failure to exhibit form commensurate with his far, straight drive.

His brother was this time less effusive in his thanks, and in no danger whatever of replying "Yes, sir!" He merely retorted, "Don't lunge--keep down!" advice which the lecturer received with a frowning, "I know--I know!" as if he had lunged intentionally, with a secret purpose that would some day become known, to the confusion of so-called golf experts.

Wilbur and Patricia waited while Merle went to retrieve his ball.