"Bah!" says the Doc disgusted. "If I didn't know you so well, I should
think your mind was affected."

"Think what you blamed please, you bald-headed old pill peddler!" raps
back the boss, pokin' him playful in the ribs. "I'll bet you a fiver I
can put more of these rings over than you can."

"Humph!" says the Doc. "I've no time to waste on silly games." And he
stands by watchin' disapprovin' while Old Hickory makes an awkward stab
at the peg. The nearest he comes to it is when he chucks one through
the glass door of a curio cabinet, with a smash that brings the butler
tiptoein' in.

"Did you ring, Sir?" says Marston.

"Not a blamed one!" says Mr. Ellins.

"Take it away, Marston. And then unwrap that large package. There!
Now what the tessellated teacups is that!"

It's something I didn't know anything about myself; but the young gent
at the store had been strong for puttin' it in, so I'd let it slide.
It's a tin affair, painted bright green, with half a dozen little brass
cups sunk in it. Some rubber balls and a kind of croquet mallet goes
with it.

"Indoor golf!" says Old Hickory, readin' the instruction pamphlet.
"Oh, I see! A putting green. Set it there on the rug, Marston. Now,
let's see if I've forgotten how to putt."