With 3 or 4 others I am playing golf. It is my turn to drive but I cannot do so because Mrs. Carl is standing about 20 yards ahead, directly in the line of play. The rest of our party apparently drove over her head but am afraid to risk it. Finally some one shouts, "Fore," and Mrs. Carl. steps off to the right. I then make preparations to drive, but feel so uncomfortable and strained, both mentally and physically that I am not surprised to top my drive which rolls perhaps 140 yards, a little to the left of proper direction. The green is out of sight over a low hill, but this hole is short enough so that I still have a chance to reach the green with an iron. My own clubs being way over on right side of course, X loans me a small-headed, heavy mashie which feels to me like exactly the right club.