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30 Golfers Magazine Vol. 28—No. 3 Two or three days before the tournament was to begin a delegation of Grassview members called Mr. Jellie into council to register a solemn protest.

“Mr. Jellie,” said Clifford Huntington—he always called him simply Jellie, but this was a grave occasion—“Mr. Jellie, we have heard that you do not intend going to Baltusrol to familiarize yourself with the course by practise before the tournament. Without any desire to appear presumptuous, we must say that we question the wisdom of this. No champion thinks it beneath his dignity to study the ground on which he is to fight his battles. Mr. Evans arrived zt Baltusrol yesterday. Mr. Travers and Mr. Ouimet will be there today. The perpetual honor and glory of yourself and Grassview are at stake. Mr. Jellie, we beg you to reconsider your decision.”

The speaker sat down amid applause, and Aloysius Jellie arose.

“Mr. Huntington and the rest of you fellows,” he said, “I appreciate your interest and kindness. But I see no necessity of reconsidering my decision. I don’t need any practise.”

And with those sublime words he sat down again, while cries arose on every side:

“But, Jellie, it’s absurd!”

“They all do it!”

“Man, we want you to win this championship!”

“For the Lord’s sake, Jellie—”

And Tom Innes put in:

“You know, you’ve only played Baltusrol once.”

“Yes,” replied Jellie calmly, “and I broke the course record by three strokes.”

So they gave it up, but there were shakings of the head and doleful mutterings. Later in the day Monty Fraser approached him and said anxiously:

“You know, Jellie, old man, I don’t want to seem officious about this, but we've got eight thousand dollars up on you. You really think you’ll win, don’t you?”

Jellie looked at him a moment and replied:

“Ask the Egyptians.”

Then he strode off.

“Now what the devil—” muttered Fraser, gazing after him in bewilderment. “‘Ask the Egyptians!’ I’ve half a mind to hedge.”

On the morning of August 8 the golfing world gathered at Baltusrol. It was a busy and animated scene. Buses, taxis, and private cars were constantly arriving from all directions, especially from that of the Short Hills railway station. The broad piazza of the club house, overlooking the 18th green, was crowded with men and women of all ages and appearances, walking, talking and drinking, and there were even more on the lawns. Tents had been improvised to cater to the wants of the overflow of visitors. Gay expectancy was the keynote. Here and there you would see a face, usually with a permanent coat of tan, which wore the set, tense expression of a busy lawyer in his office or a statesman considering some delicate and difficult complication. That would be one of the contestants—one of the master golfers.

At five minutes past eight the first pair started off on the qualifying round. All day the wood and iron heads whistled and the putts rolled. The links, a bright green paradise in the Jersey hills, with clusters of trees here and there and occasionally a glimmering ribbon of water, stretched forth a lovely panorama for the eye. Some noticed and praised it, but for the most part the thousands of visitors were too busy following and applauding their chosen idols to pay any attention to the beauties of nature.

The best five scores of the qualifying round of 36 holes were as follows:

Jellie 70 - 71—141

Evans 06. 72 - 76—148

Marston 0. 75 - 78—148

Lewis 78- 71—149

Gardner 73 -77—150

That evening a crowd of Grassview members remained at Baltusrol for dinner. Aloysius Jellie occupied the seat of honor at their table, and his slouching form was the focus on which all eyes were centered. He had won