and play for it. I've never won anything at golf yet, and I should love
to see a little cup on the dinner-table every night."

"You can't come to dinner in Canada _every_ night," he pointed out. "It
would be so expensive for you."

Well, the cup was bought, engraved "The Empire Challenge Cup," and played
for last Monday.

"This," said Smith, "is a serious game, and we must play all out. No
giving away anything, no waiving the rules. The Empire is at stake. The
effeteness of the Mother Country is about to be put to the proof.
Proceed."

It wasn't the most pleasant of our games. The spirit of the cup hung over
it and depressed us. At the third hole I had an eighteen-inch putt for a
half. "That's all right," said Smith forgetfully; and then added,
"Perhaps you'd better put it in, though." Of course I missed. On the
fifth green he was about to brush away a leaf. "That's illegal," I said
sharply, "you must pick it up; you mayn't brush it away," and after a
fierce argument on the point he putted hastily--and badly. At the
eighteenth tee we were all square and hardly on speaking terms. The fate
of the Mother Country depended upon the result of this hole.

I drove a long one, the longest of the day, slightly hooked.

"Good shot," said Smith with an effort. He pressed and foozled badly. I
tried not to look pleased.

We found his ball in a thick clump of heather. With a grim look on his