Harry Bartlett, rather wishing he had gone in for golf more devotedly,
was wandering about, casually greeting friends and acquaintances, when
he heard his name called from the cool and shady depths of a
summer-house on the edge of the golf links.

"Oh, Minnie! How are you ?" he cordially greeted a rather tall and
dark girl who extended her slim hand to him. "I didn't expect to see
you today."

"Oh, I take in all the big matches, though I don't play much myself,"
answered Minnie Webb. "I'm surprised to find you without a caddy,
though, Harry."

"Too lazy, I'm afraid. I'm going to join the gallery to-day. Meanwhile,
if you don't mind, I'll sit in here and help you keep cool."

"It isn't very hard to do that to-day," and she moved over to make room
for him. "Isn't it just perfect weather!"

At one time Minnie Webb and Harry Bartlett had been very close
friends - engaged some rumors had it. But now they were jolly good
companions, that was all.

"Seen the Carwells' new machine?" asked Bartlett.

"No, but I've heard about it. I presume they'll drive up in it to-day."

"Does Viola run it?"