why don't you lay off Farrell? I didn't see any of YOU hot-shots posting 70s today."

"Well, another country heard from-will you get her!" Phyllis raised her thinly plucked eyebrows in mild amazement as she watched Kathy pad toward the shower room, still yawning. "Farrell seems to have added our Rip Van Winkle to her growing circle of admirers. To what do you attribute your success with the ladies, Farrell?"

"Oh, Phyllis, for God's sake, shut up!" the small brunette said wearily. "You get nastier every time you shoot out of the money, and at the rate that's been happening lately it won't be long before you set a new record. If you ask me, you' re the one that's getting too old for this racket."

"Nobody's asking you, Dobson, but you're asking for a fat lip!"

"But you're going to get one, Winters!" Toni yelled angrily. "One more crack out of you and I'll fix you up so you won't even be able to mooch drinks off the bartender, much less the local 400!"

"Oh-ho! Lover-boy to the rescue again! Listen, you little-"

"Ladies LADIES!"

In the general uproar, no one had noticed the big, lanky youngster with the tousled mop of oddly streaked hair lounging in the doorway taking in the scene with obvious glee. She was wearing Bermuda shorts in defiance of the unwritten law governing proper attire for professional golfers, and her spiked shoes in defiance of the sign on the door. There was a wide grin on her boldfeatured but oddly attractive face and her narrow, wide-set eyes twinkled.

from the shower room to add her voice to the din.

Torchy pounded on one of the fragile vanities with her big fist, upsetting a bottle of cologne. which filled the room with a sudden, sharp fragrance.

"Order!" she called. "I'm not finished." She waited for the others to quiet down. "Which," she continued, "in spite of that unmentionable 75 yesterday, places me at least within spitting distance of one of those pretty pink checks for the first time in my short but brilliant career!"

"The line forms to the right,

"Lower your voices, puh-leeze!" she said with mock dismay. "Remember, we are GUESTS here! You are shocking the imported-fromFrance panties right off the clientele of this glamorous dump!"

There was an abrupt silence, but no visible embarrassment. Toni continued to scowl blackly and Phyllis flounced out in the direction of the bar, shoulders stiff and nose in the air.

Then, suddenly, the tension dissolved.

The newcomer stood in the middle of the room, feet apart, face flushed and glistening with the heat and glowing with an inner excitement. "I got news for all you champs," she announced, obviously pleased as punch with herself. "I-Neva Kovac (known to the sports writers as "Torchy" Kovac), that unheralded but promising kid from Dubuque, have just lived up to my home town press notices and shot a blazing 67, no less!"

The congratulations were loud, profuse and completely sincere. Even Kathy Johannsen came dripping