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I see now why you come by the Barnes' house, Kenelm. It's the nighest way home from that clubhouse. Well, I'm glad you did. Mrs. Barnes and Miss Howes would have had a long session in the dark if you hadn't. Yes, and a night at Darius Holt's hotel, which would have been a heap worse. So you've been livin' at South Middleboro, Mrs. Barnes, have you? Does Miss Howes live there, too?"
"That's what you're going to find out if you win the game from South Grammar to-morrow." "Then the game is as good as won already," declared Tom solemnly, "for we're in that frame of mind where we've got to know what the man on the clubhouse steps said."
"And then the instant they've had their dinner," Lulu continued, "off they go to that tiresome Clubhouse for tennis and ball and bocci. It seems, somehow, as if I never had a chance to talk with Honey nowadays. I should think they'd get enough of each other, working side by side all day long, the way they do. But no! The moment they've eaten and had their smoke, they must get together again.
The young man came into the smoking-room of the clubhouse, and flung his bag with a clatter on the floor. He sank moodily into an arm-chair and pressed the bell. "Waiter!" "Sir?" The young man pointed at the bag with every evidence of distaste. "You may have these clubs," he said. "Take them away. If you don't want them yourself, give them to one of the caddies."
I had the pleasure of introducing him to Mr. Alexander Macmillan, the famous book publisher of Oxford and Cambridge, a leading member of the Garrick. We dined together at the Garrick clubhouse, when the matter was brought up and explained. The result was that Charles F. Browne was elected at the next meeting, where Artemus Ward, had been made to stand aside.
What shall we do, Julia? she asked wearily. Julia had arisen. She stood upright. Curiously, she did not totter. And despite her shorn pinions, she seemed more than ever to tower like some Winged Victory of the air. Her face ace glowed with rage. As on that fateful day at the Clubhouse, it was as though a fire had been built in an alabaster vase.
"We feel that if we COULD get some of the ladies interested ! Then here's the French class once a week; German, Spanish, and the bridge club on Fridays." "Gracious! You use your clubhouse," said Mrs. Burgoyne. "Nearly every day. So come on Tuesday," said the president winningly, "and be our guest.
This was John Chamberlin. During two decades "Chamberlin's," half clubhouse and half chophouse, was all a rendezvous. "John" had been a gambler; first an underling and then a partner of the famous Morrissy-McGrath racing combination at Saratoga and Long Branch. There was a time when he was literally rolling in wealth. Then he went broke dead broke.
The street was quiet when he emerged from that lorn vigil; the corner groups had dissolved; shouting youths no longer patrolled the sidewalks. Only one quarter showed signs of life: the little clubhouse, where the windows still shown brightly, and whence came the sound of many voices settling the destinies of the United States of America.
The clubhouse, which was built of great, hewn logs, with gabled eaves, stood in a fringe of firs, and an upper rear balcony afforded a broad outlook of lake and forest, with the glaciered heights of the Cascade Mountains breaking a far horizon.
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