The Guest

All his life, a dignified English barrister-widower with a considerable income had

dreamed of playing Sandringham, and one day he made up his mind to chance it, although

he was well aware that it was very exclusive. When he asked at the desk if he might

play the famous course, the Secretary inquired, "Member?"

"No, Sir."

"Guest of a member?"

"No, Sir."

"Sorry," the Secretary said.

As he turned to leave, the lawyer spotted a slightly familiar figure seated in the

lounge, reading the Times. It was Lord Wellesby Parham. He approached and, bowing

low, said, "I beg your pardon, your Lordship, but my name is Higginbotham of

of the London law firm of Higginbotham, Willoughby, and Barclay. I should like to ask a huge favor, really--if I might play this delightful course as your guest?

His Lordship gave Higginbotham a long look, put down his paper, and asked. "Church?"

"Episcopalian, sir. And my late wife, Church of England."

"Education?" the old gentleman asked.

"Eton, sir, and Oxford--magna cum laude."

"Athletics?"

"Rugby, sir, spot of tennis, and rowed number-four oar on the crew that beat Cambridge.

"Military?

"DCCE, sir, Coldstream Guards, Victoria Cross, Knight of the Garter."

"Campaigns?"

"Dunkirk, El Alamein, Normandy, sir."

"Languages?"

"Private tutor in French, fluent German, and a bit of Greek"

His Lordship considered briefly, then nodded to the Club Secretary, and said, "Nine

holes."