Caddy Buddy books

"And they want special diet. Old girl can't eat meat. Suffers from a
duodenal ulcer. I tell you, we got quick intimate! We can't do it,
Molly."
"Fathead, of course we can. I'll concoct her something the like of
which her what-you-may-call-it has never before tackled. Run along,
Bill, and be affable."
"Shall I stand them a drink?"--Mr. Gunthorpe again.
"Do, old bean. I'll come and have one, too," said boots.
"You won't, Bob. You'll see to the chauffeur and the car, _and_ the
luggage."
"Hang the luggage! I'll stand the chauffeur a drink."
Then the female voice spoke warningly.
"You've had enough drinks already, both of you," it said. "You ought to
bear in mind that you're not running the hotel just for your two
selves."
"It's all right, old girl. There's plenty for everybody. Cellar's full
of it."
The voices died away, and I strolled out into the bar once more. Mr.
Gunthorpe was being affable, according to instructions, to the old
gentleman, while an old lady in a bonnet looked on piercingly.
"Quite all right about the diet," the landlord was saying as I entered.


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