Test Bank for Leadership Enhancing the Lessons of

Experience 8th Edition Hughes Ginnett Curphy

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Chapter 04

Power and Influence

True / False Questions

1. Influence refers to the degree of change in a target person's attitudes, values, beliefs, or
behaviors.

True False

2. Influence tactics refer to one person's actual behaviors designed to change another person's
attitudes, beliefs, values, or behaviors.

True False

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3. The amount of power followers have in work situations is always less than the amount of
power held by the group's leader.

True False

4. Having a more open office reflects, but does not affect, power differentials between people.

True False

5. Choice of clothing can affect one's power and influence.

True False

6. Leaders usually can exert more power during periods of relative calm than during a crisis.

True False

7. Referent power is the potential influence one has due to the strength of the relationship
between the leader and the followers.

True False

8. Expert power involves the authority granted by the organization to the leader in order to
influence others.

True False

9. Reward power is the ability to control benefits and desired resources.

True False

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10. Coercive power is the potential to influence others through the administration of negative
sanctions.

True False

11. In highly effective organizations, there tends to be a high degree of reciprocal influence
between leaders and followers.

True False

12. A socialized need for power is a more mature, self-sacrificing form than a personalized need
for power.

True False

13. Those who derive a sense of satisfaction from influencing others are said to have a high need
for affiliation.

True False

14. The overall composite Miner's Sentence Completion Scale (MSCS) score has consistently
been found to predict leadership success in hierarchical organizations.

True False

15. Studies indicate that long-term success requires leaders to have a high need for socialized
power and a low level of activity inhibition.

True False

16. Rational persuasion occurs when an agent uses inspirational appeals to influence others.

True False

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17. Using threats or persistent reminders to influence targets are examples of pressure tactics.

True False

18. A leader with legitimate power has the widest array of influence tactics available.

True False

19. A leader is in the best position to use "hard" influence tactics such as legitimizing and
pressure tactics after developing a strong base of referent power.

True False

20. Studies show that female managers are less likely than male managers to compromise or
negotiate during their influence attempts.

True False

Multiple Choice Questions

21. Which of the following refers to one person's actual behaviors designed to change another
person's attitudes, beliefs, values, or behaviors?

A. Power

B. Influence

C. Authority

D. Influence tactics

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22. Influence is best defined as the:

A. potential to manipulate others.

B. capacity to produce effects on others.

C. degree of actual change in a target agent's values.

D. status differential between members of a group.

23. Many aspects of office arrangements can affect a leader's or follower's power. Which of the
following statements is true in relation to this statement?

A. Specific seating arrangements at circular tables do not affect participants' interactions.

B. Rectangular tables facilitate communication.

C. Individuals sitting at the ends of rectangular tables often wield more power.

D. Rectangular tables minimize status differentials.

24. A leader who has developed close interpersonal relationships with followers generally uses
_____ power to influence them.

A. legitimate

B. referent

C. coercive

D. reward

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25. _____ power is a function of the amount of knowledge one possesses relative to the rest of
the members of a group.

A. Reward

B. Referent

C. Coercive

D. Expert

26. When students respond positively to requests from teachers who are well-liked and
respected, it can be inferred that the teachers have:

A. expert power.

B. referent power.

C. legitimate power.

D. coercive power.

27. Which of the following statements is most likely true of legitimate power?

A. The head of an organization is always a true leader.

B. Legitimate authority and leadership are similar.

C. Holding a position and being a leader are synonymous.

D. Legitimate power depends on a person's organizational role.

28. Which of the following is an intrinsic reward?

A. Compensation

B. Praise

C. Personal growth

D. Time off

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29. The ability to control others through the fear of punishment or the loss of valued outcomes is
known as:

A. expert power.

B. reward power.

C. legitimate power.

D. coercive power.

30. A police officer giving a speeding ticket to a driver is most likely using:

A. referent power.

B. reward power.

C. coercive power.

D. expert power.

31. Followers are more likely to use _____ power to change their leader's behavior if they have a
relatively high amount of referent power with their fellow co-workers.

A. reward

B. coercive

C. legitimate

D. expert

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32. Research findings by French and Raven indicate that leaders who rely primarily on _____ and
_____ power have subordinates who are more motivated and satisfied, are absent less, and
perform better.

A. referent; expert

B. coercive; referent

C. expert; reward

D. reward; legitimate

33. Which of the following statements concerning power and influence is most likely FALSE?

A. Effective leaders typically take advantage of all their sources of power.

B. Leaders in well-functioning firms are rarely influenced by their subordinates.

C. Leaders vary in the extent to which they share power with subordinates.

D. Effective leaders generally work to increase their various power bases.

34. _____ is exercised in the service of higher goals to others or organizations and often involves
self-sacrifice toward those ends.

A. Democracy

B. Personalized power

C. Socialized power

D. Management motivation

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35. A politician's advisor explains how demographic changes in the politician's district make it
important for the politician to spend more time in the district seeing constituents than she
has in the past. This is an example of:

A. ingratiation.

B. an inspirational appeal.

C. a consultation.

D. a rational persuasion.

36. Which of the following is occurring when agents ask targets to participate in planning an
activity?

A. Rational persuasion

B. Ingratiation

C. Consultation

D. Personal appeal

37. A judge who gives a convicted prisoner a suspended sentence but tells him to consider the
suspension a "sword hanging over your head" if he breaks the law again is using:

A. legitimizing tactics.

B. coalition tactics.

C. pressure tactics.

D. rational persuasion.

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38. Rational tactics are most likely used by a person when:

A. he or she is at a disadvantage.

B. an influencer has the upper hand.

C. another person's behavior violates important norms.

D. the benefits are organizational as well as personal.

39. Coalition tactics are most likely exhibited when agents:

A. seek the aid of others to influence the target.

B. ask targets to participate in activity planning.

C. arouse enthusiasm or emotions in targets.

D. ask others to provide favors out of friendship.

40. People typically use hard tactics when:

A. they are at a significant disadvantage.

B. an influencer has the upper hand.

C. they do not expect resistance.

D. the parties share power.

Essay Questions

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41. What is the difference between power, influence, and influence tactics? What is the
relationship between the three concepts in terms of leadership?

42. Discuss expert power and provide examples for illustration.

43. Briefly outline the five sources of social power from French and Raven's typology.

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44. What is legitimate power? How does legitimate authority differ from leadership? Provide
examples to illustrate your response.

45. What is coercive power? How can followers use coercive power to influence a leader's
behavior? Provide examples to illustrate your response.

46. What is the Thematic Apperception Test (TAT)? What does the TAT measure? Briefly
describe the components of the test.

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47. Differentiate between leaders who have personalized power and leaders who have socialized
power.

48. How does the need for power differ from the motivation to manage?

49. What are the six composites used in Miner's Sentence Completion Scale (MSCS) to describe
the motivation to manage? What conclusions can be made about leadership from MSCS
scores?

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50. The Influence Behavior Questionnaire (IBQ) is designed to assess nine types of influence
tactics. Describe at least four of these influence tactics.

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 Chapter 04 Power and Influence Answer Key

True / False Questions

1. Influence refers to the degree of change in a target person's attitudes, values, beliefs, or
(p. 117) behaviors.

TRUE

Difficulty: 1 Easy
Type: Vocabulary

2. Influence tactics refer to one person's actual behaviors designed to change another
(p. 117) person's attitudes, beliefs, values, or behaviors.

TRUE

Difficulty: 1 Easy
Type: Vocabulary

3. The amount of power followers have in work situations is always less than the amount of
(p. 118) power held by the group's leader.

FALSE

Difficulty: 1 Easy
Type: Knowledge

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Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 “We know a great deal about a good many things,” said Mrs.
Maplebury.
“What is it, Bradbury?” said Mrs. Fisher.
“I’m afraid I shall have to leave you for a couple of days. Great
nuisance, but there it is. But, of course, I must be there.”
“Where?”
“Ah, where?” said Mrs. Maplebury.
“At Sing-Sing. I see in the paper that to-morrow and the day after
they are inaugurating the new Osborne Stadium. All the men of my
class will be attending, and I must go, too.”
“Must you really?”
“I certainly must. Not to do so would be to show a lack of college
spirit. The boys are playing Yale, and there is to be a big dinner
afterwards. I shouldn’t wonder if I had to make a speech. But don’t
worry, honey,” he said, kissing his wife affectionately. “I shall be back
before you know I’ve gone.” He turned sharply to Mrs. Maplebury. “I
beg your pardon?” he said, stiffly.
“I did not speak.”
“I thought you did.”
“I merely inhaled. I simply drew in air through my nostrils. If I am
not at liberty to draw in air through my nostrils in your house, pray
inform me.”
“I would prefer that you didn’t,” said Bradbury, between set teeth.
“Then I would suffocate.”
“Yes,” said Bradbury Fisher.

Of all the tainted millionaires who, after years of plundering the

widow and the orphan, have devoted the evening of their life to the
game of golf, few can ever have been so boisterously exhilarated as
was Bradbury Fisher when, two nights later, he returned to his home.
His dreams had all come true. He had won his way to the foot of the
rain-bow. In other words, he was the possessor of a small pewter
cup, value three dollars, which he had won by beating a feeble old
gentleman with one eye in the final match of the competition for the
sixth sixteen at the Squashy Hollow Golf Club Invitation Tournament.
He entered the house, radiant.
“Tra-la!” sang Bradbury Fisher. “Tra-la!”
“I beg your pardon, sir?” said Vosper, who had encountered him in
the hall.
“Eh? Oh, nothing. Just tra-la.”
“Very good, sir.”
Bradbury Fisher looked at Vosper. For the first time it seemed to
sweep over him like a wave that Vosper was an uncommonly good
fellow. The past was forgotten, and he beamed upon Vosper like the
rising sun.
“Vosper,” he said, “what wages are you getting?”
“I regret to say, sir,” replied the butler, “that, at the moment, the
precise amount of the salary of which I am in receipt has slipped my
mind. I could refresh my memory by consulting my books, if you so
desire it, sir.”
“Never mind. Whatever it is, it’s doubled.”
“I am obliged, sir. You will, no doubt, send me a written memo, to
that effect?”
“Twenty, if you like.”
“One will be ample, sir.”
Bradbury curveted past him through the baronial hall and into the
Crystal Boudoir. His wife was there alone.
“Mother has gone to bed,” she said. “She has a bad headache.”
 “You don’t say!” said Bradbury. It was as if everything was
conspiring to make this a day of days. “Well, it’s great to be back in
the old home.”
“Did you have a good time?”
“Capital.”
“You saw all your old friends?”
“Every one of them.”
“Did you make a speech at the dinner?”
“Did I! They rolled out of their seats and the waiters swept them up
with dusters.”
“A very big dinner, I suppose?”
“Enormous.”
“How was the football game?”
“Best I’ve ever seen. We won. Number 432,986 made a hundred-
and-ten-yard run for a touch-down in the last five minutes.”
“Really?”
“And that takes a bit of doing, with a ball and chain round your
ankle, believe me!”
“Bradbury,” said Mrs. Fisher, “where have you been these last two
days?”
Bradbury’s heart missed a beat. His wife was looking exactly like
her mother. It was the first time he had ever been able to believe that
she could be Mrs. Maplebury’s daughter.
“Been? Why, I’m telling you.”
“Bradbury,” said Mrs. Fisher, “just one word. Have you seen the
paper this morning?”
“Why, no. What with all the excitement of meeting the boys and
this and that—”
 “Then you have not seen that the inauguration of the new Stadium
at Sing-Sing was postponed on account of an outbreak of mumps in
the prison?”
Bradbury gulped.
“There was no dinner, no football game, no gathering of Old Grads
—nothing! So—where have you been, Bradbury?”
Bradbury gulped again.
“You’re sure you haven’t got this wrong?” he said at length.
“Quite.”
“I mean, sure it wasn’t some other place?”
“Quite.”
“Sing-Sing? You got the name correctly?”
“Quite. Where, Bradbury, have you been these last two days?”
“Well—er—”
Mrs. Fisher coughed dryly.
“I merely ask out of curiosity. The facts will, of course, come out in
court.”
“In court!”
“Naturally I propose to place this affair in the hands of my lawyer
immediately.”
Bradbury started convulsively.
“You mustn’t!”
“I certainly shall.”
A shudder shook Bradbury from head to foot. He felt worse than
he had done when his opponent in the final had laid him a stymie on
the last green, thereby squaring the match and taking it to the
nineteenth hole.
“I will tell you all,” he muttered.
 “Well?”
“Well—it was like this.”
“Yes?”
“Er—like this. In fact, this way.”
“Proceed.”
Bradbury clenched his hands; and, as far as that could be
managed, avoided her eye.
“I’ve been playing golf,” he said in a low, toneless voice.
“Playing golf?”
“Yes.” Bradbury hesitated. “I don’t mean it in an offensive spirit,
and no doubt most men would have enjoyed themselves thoroughly,
but I—well, I am curiously constituted, angel, and the fact is I simply
couldn’t stand playing with you any longer. The fault, I am sure, was
mine, but—well, there it is. If I had played another round with you,
my darling, I think that I should have begun running about in circles,
biting my best friends. So I thought it all over, and, not wanting to
hurt your feelings by telling you the truth, I stooped to what I might
call a ruse. I said I was going to the office; and, instead of going to
the office, I went off to Squashy Hollow and played there.”
Mrs. Fisher uttered a cry.
“You were there to-day and yesterday?”
In spite of his trying situation, the yeasty exhilaration which had
been upon him when he entered the room returned to Bradbury.
“Was I!” he cried. “You bet your Russian boots I was! Only winning
a cup, that’s all!”
“You won a cup?”
“You bet your diamond tiara I won a cup. Say, listen,” said
Bradbury, diving for a priceless Boule table and wrenching a leg off
it. “Do you know what happened in the semi-final?” He clasped his
fingers over the table-leg in the overlapping grip. “I’m here, see,
about fifteen feet off the green. The other fellow lying dead, and I’m
playing the like. Best I could hope for was a half, you’ll say, eh? Well,
listen. I just walked up to that little white ball, and I gave it a little flick,
and, believe me or believe me not, that little white ball never stopped
running till it plunked into the hole.”
He stopped. He perceived that he had been introducing into the
debate extraneous and irrelevant matter.
“Honey,” he said, fervently, “you musn’t get mad about this.
Maybe, if we try again, it will be all right. Give me another chance.
Let me come out and play a round to-morrow. I think perhaps your
style of play is a thing that wants getting used to. After all, I didn’t like
olives the first time I tried them. Or whisky. Or caviare, for that
matter. Probably if—”
Mrs. Fisher shook her head.
“I shall never play again.”
“Oh, but, listen—”
She looked at him fondly, her eyes dim with happy tears.
“I should have known you better, Bradbury. I suspected you. How
foolish I was.”
“There, there,” said Bradbury.
“It was mother’s fault. She put ideas into my head.”
There was much that Bradbury would have liked to say about her
mother, but he felt that this was not the time.
“And you really forgive me for sneaking off and playing at Squashy
Hollow?”
“Of course.”
“Then why not a little round to-morrow?”
“No, Bradbury, I shall never play again. Vosper says I mustn’t.”
“What!”
“He saw me one morning on the links, and he came to me and told
me—quite nicely and respectfully—that it must not occur again. He
said with the utmost deference that I was making a spectacle of
myself and that this nuisance must now cease. So I gave it up. But
it’s all right. Vosper thinks that gentle massage will cure my
wheezing, so I’m having it every day, and really I do think there’s an
improvement already.”
“Where is Vosper?” said Bradbury, hoarsely.
“You aren’t going to be rude to him, Bradbury? He is so sensitive.”
But Bradbury Fisher had left the room.

“You rang, sir?” said Vosper, entering the Byzantine smoking-room

some few minutes later.
“Yes,” said Bradbury. “Vosper, I am a plain, rugged man and I do
not know all that there is to be known about these things. So do not
be offended if I ask you a question.”
“Not at all, sir.”
“Tell me, Vosper, did the Duke ever shake hands with you?”
“Once only, sir—mistaking me in a dimly-lit hall for a visiting
archbishop.”
“Would it be all right for me to shake hands with you now?”
“If you wish it, sir, certainly.”
“I want to thank you, Vosper. Mrs. Fisher tells me that you have
stopped her playing golf. I think that you have saved my reason,
Vosper.”
“That is extremely gratifying, sir.”
“Your salary is trebled.”
“Thank you very much, sir. And, while we are talking, sir, if I might
—. There is one other little matter I wished to speak of, sir.”
“Shoot, Vosper.”
 “It concerns Mrs. Maplebury, sir.”
“What about her?”
“If I might say so, sir, she would scarcely have done for the Duke.”
A sudden wild thrill shot through Bradbury.
“You mean—?” he stammered.
“I mean, sir, that Mrs. Maplebury must go. I make no criticism of
Mrs. Maplebury, you will understand, sir. I merely say that she would
decidedly not have done for the Duke.”
Bradbury drew in his breath sharply.
“Vosper,” he said, “the more I hear of that Duke of yours, the more
I seem to like him. You really think he would have drawn the line at
Mrs. Maplebury?”
“Very firmly, sir.”
“Splendid fellow! Splendid fellow! She shall go to-morrow, Vosper.”
“Thank you very much, sir.”
“And, Vosper.”
“Sir?”
“Your salary. It is quadrupled.”
“I am greatly obliged, sir.”
“Tra-la, Vosper!”
“Tra-la, sir. Will that be all?”
“That will be all. Tra-la!”
“Tra-la, sir,” said the butler.
 CHAPTER IV
CHESTER FORGETS HIMSELF

The afternoon was warm and heavy. Butterflies loafed languidly in

the sunshine, birds panted in the shady recesses of the trees.
The Oldest Member, snug in his favourite chair, had long since
succumbed to the drowsy influence of the weather. His eyes were
closed, his chin sunk upon his breast. The pipe which he had been
smoking lay beside him on the turf, and ever and anon there
proceeded from him a muffled snore.
Suddenly the stillness was broken. There was a sharp, cracking
sound as of splitting wood. The Oldest Member sat up, blinking. As
soon as his eyes had become accustomed to the glare, he perceived
that a foursome had holed out on the ninth and was disintegrating.
Two of the players were moving with quick, purposeful steps in the
direction of the side door which gave entrance to the bar; a third was
making for the road that led to the village, bearing himself as one in
profound dejection; the fourth came on to the terrace.
“Finished?” said the Oldest Member.
The other stopped, wiping a heated brow. He lowered himself into
the adjoining chair and stretched his legs out.
“Yes. We started at the tenth. Golly, I’m tired. No joke playing in
this weather.”
“How did you come out?”
“We won on the last green. Jimmy Fothergill and I were playing
the vicar and Rupert Blake.”
“What was that sharp, cracking sound I heard?” asked the Oldest
Member.
 “That was the vicar smashing his putter. Poor old chap, he had
rotten luck all the way round, and it didn’t seem to make it any better
for him that he wasn’t able to relieve his feelings in the ordinary way.”
“I suspected some such thing,” said the Oldest Member, “from the
look of his back as he was leaving the green. His walk was the walk
of an overwrought soul.”
His companion did not reply. He was breathing deeply and
regularly.
“It is a moot question,” proceeded the Oldest Member, thoughtfully,
“whether the clergy, considering their peculiar position, should not be
more liberally handicapped at golf than the laymen with whom they
compete. I have made a close study of the game since the days of
the feather ball, and I am firmly convinced that to refrain entirely from
oaths during a round is almost equivalent to giving away three
bisques. There are certain occasions when an oath seems to be so
imperatively demanded that the strain of keeping it in must inevitably
affect the ganglions or nerve-centres in such a manner as to
diminish the steadiness of the swing.”
The man beside him slipped lower down in his chair. His mouth
had opened slightly.
“I am reminded in this connection,” said the Oldest Member, “of
the story of young Chester Meredith, a friend of mine whom you
have not, I think, met. He moved from this neighbourhood shortly
before you came. There was a case where a man’s whole happiness
was very nearly wrecked purely because he tried to curb his instincts
and thwart nature in this very respect. Perhaps you would care to
hear the story?”
A snore proceeded from the next chair.
“Very well, then,” said the Oldest Member, “I will relate it.”
 Chester Meredith (said the Oldest Member) was one of the nicest
young fellows of my acquaintance. We had been friends ever since
he had come to live here as a small boy, and I had watched him with
a fatherly eye through all the more important crises of a young man’s
life. It was I who taught him to drive, and when he had all that trouble
in his twenty-first year with shanking his short approaches, it was to
me that he came for sympathy and advice. It was an odd
coincidence, therefore, that I should have been present when he fell
in love.
I was smoking my evening cigar out here and watching the last
couples finishing their rounds, when Chester came out of the club-
house and sat by me. I could see that the boy was perturbed about
something, and wondered why, for I knew that he had won his
match.
“What,” I inquired, “is on your mind?”
“Oh, nothing,” said Chester. “I was only thinking that there are
some human misfits who ought not be allowed on any decent links.”
“You mean—?”
“The Wrecking Crew,” said Chester, bitterly. “They held us up all
the way round, confound them. Wouldn’t let us through. What can
you do with people who don’t know enough of the etiquette of the
game to understand that a single has right of way over a four-ball
foursome? We had to loaf about for hours on end while they
scratched at the turf like a lot of crimson hens. Eventually all four of
them lost their balls simultaneously at the eleventh and we managed
to get by. I hope they choke.”
I was not altogether surprised at his warmth. The Wrecking Crew
consisted of four retired business men who had taken up the noble
game late in life because their doctors had ordered them air and
exercise. Every club, I suppose, has a cross of this kind to bear, and
it was not often that our members rebelled; but there was
undoubtedly something particularly irritating in the methods of the
Wrecking Crew. They tried so hard that it seemed almost
inconceivable that they should be so slow.
 “They are all respectable men,” I said, “and were, I believe, highly
thought of in their respective businesses. But on the links I admit that
they are a trial.”
“They are the direct lineal descendants of the Gadarene swine,”
said Chester firmly. “Every time they come out I expect to see them
rush down the hill from the first tee and hurl themselves into the lake
at the second. Of all the—”
“Hush!” I said.
Out of the corner of my eye I had seen a girl approaching, and I
was afraid lest Chester in his annoyance might use strong language.
For he was one of those golfers who are apt to express themselves
in moments of emotion with a good deal of generous warmth.
“Eh?” said Chester.
I jerked my head, and he looked round. And, as he did so, there
came into his face an expression which I had seen there only once
before, on the occasion when he won the President’s Cup on the last
green by holing a thirty-yard chip with his mashie. It was a look of
ecstasy and awe. His mouth was open, his eyebrows raised, and he
was breathing heavily through his nose.
“Golly!” I heard him mutter.
The girl passed by. I could not blame Chester for staring at her.
She was a beautiful young thing, with a lissom figure and a perfect
face. Her hair was a deep chestnut, her eyes blue, her nose small
and laid back with about as much loft as a light iron. She
disappeared, and Chester, after nearly dislocating his neck trying to
see her round the corner of the club-house, emitted a deep,
explosive sigh.
“Who is she?” he whispered.
I could tell him that. In one way and another I get to know most
things around this locality.
“She is a Miss Blakeney. Felicia Blakeney. She has come to stay
for a month with the Waterfields. I understand she was at school with
Jane Waterfield. She is twenty-three, has a dog named Joseph,
dances well, and dislikes parsnips. Her father is a distinguished
writer on sociological subjects; her mother is Wilmot Royce, the well-
known novelist, whose last work, Sewers of the Soul, was, you may
recall, jerked before a tribunal by the Purity League. She has a
brother, Crispin Blakeney, an eminent young reviewer and essayist,
who is now in India studying local conditions with a view to a series
of lectures. She only arrived here yesterday, so this is all I have been
able to find out about her as yet.”
Chester’s mouth was still open when I began speaking. By the
time I had finished it was open still wider. The ecstatic look in his
eyes had changed to one of dull despair.
“My God!” he muttered. “If her family is like that, what chance is
there for a rough-neck like me?”
“You admire her?”
“She is the alligator’s Adam’s apple,” said Chester, simply.
I patted his shoulder.
“Have courage, my boy,” I said. “Always remember that the love of
a good man, to whom the pro can give only a couple of strokes in
eighteen holes is not to be despised.”
“Yes, that’s all very well. But this girl is probably one solid mass of
brain. She will look on me as an uneducated wart-hog.”
“Well, I will introduce you, and we will see. She looked a nice girl.”
“You’re a great describer, aren’t you?” said Chester. “A wonderful
flow of language you’ve got, I don’t think! Nice girl! Why, she’s the
only girl in the world. She’s a pearl among women. She’s the most
marvellous, astounding, beautiful, heavenly thing that ever drew
perfumed breath.” He paused, as if his train of thought had been
interrupted by an idea. “Did you say that her brother’s name was
Crispin?”
“I did. Why?”
Chester gave vent to a few manly oaths.
“Doesn’t that just show you how things go in this rotten world?”
 “What do you mean?”
“I was at school with him.”
“Surely that should form a solid basis for friendship?”
“Should it? Should it, by gad? Well, let me tell you that I probably
kicked that blighted worm Crispin Blakeney a matter of seven
hundred and forty-six times in the few years I knew him. He was the
world’s worst. He could have walked straight into the Wrecking Crew
and no questions asked. Wouldn’t it jar you? I have the luck to know
her brother, and it turns out that we couldn’t stand the sight of each
other.”
“Well, there is no need to tell her that.”
“Do you mean—?” He gazed at me wildly. “Do you mean that I
might pretend we were pals?”
“Why not? Seeing that he is in India, he can hardly contradict you.”
“My gosh!” He mused for a moment. I could see that the idea was
beginning to sink in. It was always thus with Chester. You had to give
him time. “By Jove, it mightn’t be a bad scheme at that. I mean, it
would start me off with a rush, like being one up on bogey in the first
two. And there’s nothing like a good start. By gad, I’ll do it.”
“I should.”
“Reminiscences of the dear old days when we were lads together,
and all that sort of thing.”
“Precisely.”
“It isn’t going to be easy, mind you,” said Chester, meditatively. “I’ll
do it because I love her, but nothing else in this world would make
me say a civil word about the blister. Well, then, that’s settled. Get on
with the introduction stuff, will you? I’m in a hurry.”
One of the privileges of age is that it enables a man to thrust his
society on a beautiful girl without causing her to draw herself up and
say “Sir!” It was not difficult for me to make the acquaintance of Miss
Blakeney, and, this done, my first act was to unleash Chester on her.
 “Chester,” I said, summoning him as he loafed with an overdone
carelessness on the horizon, one leg almost inextricably entwined
about the other, “I want you to meet Miss Blakeney. Miss Blakeney,
this is my young friend Chester Meredith. He was at school with your
brother Crispin. You were great friends, were you not?”
“Bosom,” said Chester, after a pause.
“Oh, really?” said the girl. There was a pause. “He is in India now.”
“Yes,” said Chester.
There was another pause.
“Great chap,” said Chester, gruffly.
“Crispin is very popular,” said the girl, “with some people.”
“Always been my best pal,” said Chester.
“Yes?”
I was not altogether satisfied with the way matters were
developing. The girl seemed cold and unfriendly, and I was afraid
that this was due to Chester’s repellent manner. Shyness, especially
when complicated by love at first sight, is apt to have strange effects
on a man, and the way it had taken Chester was to make him
abnormally stiff and dignified. One of the most charming things about
him, as a rule, was his delightful boyish smile. Shyness had caused
him to iron this out of his countenance till no trace of it remained. Not
only did he not smile, he looked like a man who never had smiled
and never would. His mouth was a thin, rigid line. His back was stiff
with what appeared to be contemptuous aversion. He looked down
his nose at Miss Blakeney as if she were less than the dust beneath
his chariot-wheels.
I thought the best thing to do was to leave them alone together to
get acquainted. Perhaps, I thought, it was my presence that was
cramping Chester’s style. I excused myself and receded.
 It was some days before I saw Chester again. He came round to
my cottage one night after dinner and sank into a chair, where he
remained silent for several minutes.
“Well?” I said at last.
“Eh?” said Chester, starting violently.
“Have you been seeing anything of Miss Blakeney lately?”
“You bet I have.”
“And how do you feel about her on further acquaintance?”
“Eh?” said Chester, absently.
“Do you still love her?”
Chester came out of his trance.
“Love her?” he cried, his voice vibrating with emotion. “Of course I
love her. Who wouldn’t love her? I’d be a silly chump not loving her.
Do you know,” the boy went on, a look in his eyes like that of some
young knight seeing the Holy Grail in a vision, “do you know, she is
the only woman I ever met who didn’t overswing. Just a nice, crisp,
snappy, half-slosh, with a good full follow-through. And another thing.
You’ll hardly believe me, but she waggles almost as little as George
Duncan. You know how women waggle as a rule, fiddling about for a
minute and a half like kittens playing with a ball of wool. Well, she
just makes one firm pass with the club and then bing! There is none
like her, none.”
“Then you have been playing golf with her?”
“Nearly every day.”
“How is your game?”
“Rather spotty. I seem to be mistiming them.”
I was concerned.
“I do hope, my dear boy,” I said, earnestly, “that you are taking
care to control your feelings when out on the links with Miss
Blakeney. You know what you are like. I trust you have not been
using the sort of language you generally employ on occasions when
you are not timing them right?”
“Me?” said Chester, horrified. “Who, me? You don’t imagine for a
moment that I would dream of saying a thing that would bring a blush
to her dear cheek, do you? Why, a bishop could have gone round
with me and learned nothing new.”
I was relieved.
“How do you find you manage the dialogue these days?” I asked.
“When I introduced you, you behaved—you will forgive an old friend
for criticising—you behaved a little like a stuffed frog with laryngitis.
Have things got easier in that respect?”
“Oh yes. I’m quite the prattler now. I talk about her brother mostly. I
put in the greater part of my time boosting the tick. It seems to be
coming easier. Will-power, I suppose. And then, of course, I talk a
good deal about her mother’s novels.”
“Have you read them?”
“Every damned one of them—for her sake. And if there’s a greater
proof of love than that, show me! My gosh, what muck that woman
writes! That reminds me, I’ve got to send to the bookshop for her
latest—out yesterday. It’s called The Stench of Life. A sequel, I
understand, to Grey Mildew.”
“Brave lad,” I said, pressing his hand. “Brave, devoted lad!”
“Oh, I’d do more than that for her.” He smoked for a while in
silence. “By the way, I’m going to propose to her to-morrow.”
“Already?”
“Can’t put it off a minute longer. It’s been as much as I could
manage, bottling it up till now. Where do you think would be the best
place? I mean, it’s not the sort of thing you can do while you’re
walking down the street or having a cup of tea. I thought of asking
her to have a round with me and taking a stab at it on the links.”
“You could not do better. The links—Nature’s cathedral.”
“Right-o, then! I’ll let you know how I come out.”
 “I wish you luck, my boy,” I said.

And what of Felicia, meanwhile? She was, alas, far from returning
the devotion which scorched Chester’s vital organs. He seemed to
her precisely the sort of man she most disliked. From childhood up
Felicia Blakeney had lived in an atmosphere of highbrowism, and the
type of husband she had always seen in her daydreams was the
man who was simple and straightforward and earthy and did not
know whether Artbashiekeff was a suburb of Moscow or a new kind
of Russian drink. A man like Chester, who on his own statement
would rather read one of her mother’s novels than eat, revolted her.
And his warm affection for her brother Crispin set the seal on her
distaste.
Felicia was a dutiful child, and she loved her parents. It took a bit
of doing, but she did it. But at her brother Crispin she drew the line.
He wouldn’t do, and his friends were worse than he was. They were
high-voiced, supercilious, pince-nezed young men who talked
patronisingly of Life and Art, and Chester’s unblushing confession
that he was one of them had put him ten down and nine to play right
away.
You may wonder why the boy’s undeniable skill on the links had no
power to soften the girl. The unfortunate fact was that all the good
effects of his prowess were neutralised by his behaviour while
playing. All her life she had treated golf with a proper reverence and
awe, and in Chester’s attitude towards the game she seemed to
detect a horrible shallowness. The fact is, Chester, in his efforts to
keep himself from using strong language, had found a sort of relief in
a girlish giggle, and it made her shudder every time she heard it.
His deportment, therefore, in the space of time leading up to the
proposal could not have been more injurious to his cause. They
started out quite happily, Chester doing a nice two-hundred-yarder
off the first tee, which for a moment awoke the girl’s respect. But at
the fourth, after a lovely brassie-shot, he found his ball deeply
embedded in the print of a woman’s high heel. It was just one of
those rubs of the green which normally would have caused him to
ease his bosom with a flood of sturdy protest, but now he was on his
guard.
“Tee-hee!” simpered Chester, reaching for his niblick. “Too bad, too
bad!” and the girl shuddered to the depths of her soul.
Having holed out, he proceeded to enliven the walk to the next tee
with a few remarks on her mother’s literary style, and it was while
they were walking after their drives that he proposed.
His proposal, considering the circumstances, could hardly have
been less happily worded. Little knowing that he was rushing upon
his doom, Chester stressed the Crispin note. He gave Felicia the
impression that he was suggesting this marriage more for Crispin’s
sake than anything else. He conveyed the idea that he thought how
nice it would be for brother Crispin to have his old chum in the family.
He drew a picture of their little home, with Crispin for ever popping in
and out like a rabbit. It is not to be wondered at that, when at length
he had finished and she had time to speak, the horrified girl turned
him down with a thud.
It is at moments such as these that a man reaps the reward of a
good upbringing.
In similar circumstances those who have not had the benefit of a
sound training in golf are too apt to go wrong. Goaded by the sudden
anguish, they take to drink, plunge into dissipation, and write vers
libre. Chester was mercifully saved from this. I saw him the day after
he had been handed the mitten, and was struck by the look of grim
determination in his face. Deeply wounded though he was, I could
see that he was the master of his fate and the captain of his soul.
“I am sorry, my boy,” I said, sympathetically, when he had told me
the painful news.
“It can’t be helped,” he replied, bravely.
“Her decision was final?”
“Quite.”
 “You do not contemplate having another pop at her?”
“No good. I know when I’m licked.”
I patted him on the shoulder and said the only thing it seemed
possible to say.
“After all, there is always golf.”
He nodded.
“Yes. My game needs a lot of tuning up. Now is the time to do it.
From now on I go at this pastime seriously. I make it my life-work.
Who knows?” he murmured, with a sudden gleam in his eyes. “The
Amateur Championship—”
“The Open!” I cried, falling gladly into his mood.
“The American Amateur,” said Chester, flushing.
“The American Open,” I chorused.
“No one has ever copped all four.”
“No one.”
“Watch me!” said Chester Meredith, simply.

It was about two weeks after this that I happened to look in on

Chester at his house one morning. I found him about to start for the
links. As he had foreshadowed in the conversation which I have just
related, he now spent most of the daylight hours on the course. In
these two weeks he had gone about his task of achieving perfection
with a furious energy which made him the talk of the club. Always
one of the best players in the place, he had developed an
astounding brilliance. Men who had played him level were now
obliged to receive two and even three strokes. The pro. himself
conceding one, had only succeeded in halving their match. The
struggle for the President’s Cup came round once more, and
Chester won it for the second time with ridiculous ease.