by A. A. Milne
ONE OF OUR SUFFERERS
There is no question before the country of more importance than that ofNational Health. In my own small way I have made something of a study ofit, and when a Royal Commission begins its enquiries, I shall put beforeit the evidence which I have accumulated. I shall lay particular stressupon the health of Thomson.
"You'll beat me to-day," he said, as he swung his club stiffly on thefirst tee; "I shan't be able to hit a ball."
"You should have some lessons," I suggested.
Thomson gave a snort of indignation.
"It's not _that_," he said. "But I've been very seedy lately, and----"
"That's all right; I shan't mind. I haven't played a thoroughly well manfor a month, now."
"You know, I think my liver----"
I held up my hand.
"Not before my caddie, please," I said severely; "he is quite a child."
Thomson said no more for the moment, but hit his ball hard and straightalong the ground.
"It's perfectly absurd," he said with a shrug; "I shan't be able to giveyou a game at all. Well, if you don't mind playing a sick man----"
"Not if you don't mind being one," I replied, and drove a ball whichalso went along the ground, but not so far as my opponent's. "There! I'mabout the only man in England who can do that when he's quite well."
The ball was sitting up nicely for my second shot, and I managed to putit on the green. Thomson's, fifty yards farther on, was reclining in theworst part of a bunker which he had forgotten about.
"Well, really," he said, "there's an example of luck for you. _Your_ball----"
"I didn't do it on purpose," I pleaded. "Don't be angry with me."
He made two attempts to get out, and then picked his ball up. We walkedin silence to the second tee.
"This time," I said, "I shall hit the sphere properly," and with aterrific swing I stroked it gently into a gorse bush. I looked at thething in disgust and then felt my pulse. Apparently I was still quitewell. Thomson, forgetting about his liver, drove a beauty. We met on thegreen.
"Five," I said.
"Only five?" asked Thomson suspiciously.
"Six," I said, holing a very long putt.
Thomson's health had a relapse. He took four short putts and was down inseven.
"It's really rather absurd," he said, in a conversational way, as wewent to the next tee, "that putting should be so ridiculously important.Take that hole, for instance. I get on the green in a perfect three; youfluff your drive completely and get on in--what was it?"
"Five," I said again.
"Er--five. And yet you win the hole. It _is_ rather absurd, isn't it?"
"I've often thought so," I admitted readily. "That is to say, when I'vetaken four putts. I'm two up."
On the third tee Thomson's health became positively alarming. He missedthe ball altogether.
"It's ridiculous to try to play," he said, with a forced laugh. "I can'tsee the ball at all."
"It's still there," I assured him.
He struck at it again and it hurried off into a ditch.
"Look here," he said, "wouldn't you rather play the pro.? This is notmuch of a match for you."
I considered. Of course, a game with the pro. would be much pleasanterthan a game with Thomson, but ought I to leave him in his presentserious condition of health? His illness was approaching its criticalstage, and it was my duty to pull him through if I could.
"No, no," I said. "Let's go on. The fresh air will do you good."
"Perhaps it will," he said hopefully. "I'm sorry I'm like this, but I'vehad a cold hanging about for some days, and that on the top of myliver----"
"Quite so," I said.
The climax was reached, at the next hole, when, with several strokes inhand, he topped his approach shot into a bunker. For my sake he tried tolook as though he had _meant_ to run it up along the ground, havingforgotten about the intervening hazard. It was a brave effort to hidefrom me the real state of his health, but he soon saw that it washopeless. He sighed and pressed his hand to his eyes. Then he held hisfingers a foot away from him, and looked at them as if he were trying tocount them correctly. His state was pitiable, and I felt that at anycost I must save him.
I did. The corner was turned at the fifth, where I took four putts.
"You aren't going to win _all_ the holes," he said grudgingly, as he randown his putt.
Convalescence set in at the sixth, when I got into an impossible placeand picked up.
"Oh, well, I shall give you a game yet," he said. "Two down."
The need for further bulletins ceased at the seventh hole, which heplayed really well and won easily.
"A-ha, you won't beat me by _much_," he said, "in spite of my liver."
"By the way, how _is_ the liver?" I asked.
"Your fresh-air cure is doing it good. Of course, it may come on again,but----" He drove a screamer. "I think I shall be all right," heannounced.
"All square," he said cheerily at the ninth. "I fancy I'm going to beatyou now. Not bad, you know, considering you were four up. Practicallyspeaking, I gave you a start of four holes."
I decided that it was time to make an effort again, seeing thatThomson's health was now thoroughly re-established. Of the next sevenholes I managed to win three and halve two. It is only fair to say,though (as Thomson did several times), that I had an extraordinaryamount of good luck, and that he was dogged by ill-fortune throughout.But this, after all, is as nothing so long as one's health is abovesuspicion. The great thing was that Thomson's liver suffered no relapse;even though, at the seventeenth tee, he was one down and two to play.
And it was on the seventeenth tee that I had to think seriously how Iwanted the match to end. Thomson at lunch when he has won is a verydifferent man from Thomson at lunch when he has lost. The more I thoughtabout it, the more I realized that I was in rather a happy position. IfI won, I won--which was jolly; if I lost, Thomson won--and we shouldhave a pleasant lunch.
However, as it happened, the match was halved.
"Yes, I was afraid so," said Thomson; "I let you get too long a start.It's absurd to suppose that I can give you four holes up and beat you.It practically amounts to giving you four bisques. Four bisques is aboutsix strokes--I'm not really six strokes better than you."
"What about lunch?" I suggested.
"Good; and you can have your revenge afterwards." He led the way intothe pavilion. "Now I wonder," he said, "what I can safely eat. I wantto be able to give you _some_ sort of a game this afternoon."
Well, if there is ever a Royal Commission upon the national physique Ishall insist on giving evidence. For it seems to me that golf, far fromimproving the health of the country, is actually undermining it.Thomson, at any rate, since he has taken to the game, has never beenquite fit.