ish air. "And how is he, that blessed St. Antony? Could I not come in for one moment to return the visit he once paid me?"
"Why, here he comes," said St. Peter, throwing the door wide open.
In the twinkling of an eye the sly golfer had flung himself into paradise, unhooked his apron, let it fall to the ground, and seated himself down on it.
"Good morning, St. Antony," said he with a fine salute. "You see I had plenty of time to think of paradise, for here we are!"
"What! You here!" cried St. Antony.
"Yes, I and my company," replied Roger, opening his sack and scattering on the carpet the souls of the six golfers.
"Will you have the goodness to pack right off, all of you?"
"Impossible," said the great golfer, showing his apron.
"The rogue has made game of us," said St. Antony. "Come, St. Peter, in memory of our game of golf, let him in with his souls. Besides, he has had his purgatory on earth."
"It is not a very good precedent," murmured St. Peter.
"Bah!" replied Roger, "if we have a few good golfers in paradise, where is the harm?"
[220]
