I had not the slightest doubt that she was entirely correct. And then
she began to talk about golf, and after that of croquet.
"I consider that the finest out-door game we have," she said, "because
there is more science in it than you find in any of the others. Your
brains must work when you play croquet with intelligent opponents."
"The great trouble about it is," I said, "that it is often so easy."
"But you can get rid of that objection," she replied, "if you have a
bad ground. Croquet needs hazards just as much as golf does. The
finest games I have ever seen were played on a bad ground."
So we talked and walked until some of the lights in the upper windows
of the house had gone out. We ascended to the porch, and just before
entering the front door she turned to me.
"I wish I could go to sleep to-night with the same right to feel
proud, self-confident, superior, that you have. Good-night." And she
held out her hand and gave mine a strong, hearty shake.
I smiled as she left me standing on the porch. This was the same spot
on which her sister Genevieve had felt my muscle. "This is an
appreciative family," I said, and, guided by the sound of voices, I
found Mr. Larramie and his son Walter in the billiard-room.