Our Swimmers

"Are you the Secretary of the Swimming Club?" I asked MR. OLIVER. "I'm 'Smad'andI want the dope on this 'ere Tourney."

"I am the Comptroller," said the Pooh-bah, "and I can give your filthy rag the lowdown.

"You've heard of Mason?" I had-we all have. "Well, he's in the team. King has a good chance in the 440."

"Butterick—"I hazarded.

"Yes, he's good-second to Symes last year.

"And Meek-how blessed?"

Mr. Oliver's face lit up with fanatic joy. "He'll give Horsfall a swim for his money-he ought to come second anyway."

"The ladies—what of them?"

"The women may come home at short prices. Miss Pilcher is swimming well and Susie will be there when the whips are cracking in the breaststroke. We haven't heard much from other places (the little rascals!) but you can rest assured that members of the V.U.C. team will put their best foot forward to bring home the bacon."

I didn't like that much-I mean, do you? So I mentioned Neville, but that didn't frighten him.

I left, recalling joyfully that there was no wooden spoon swimming.