George V Hobart

Back to the Woods George V Hobart

Publisher Marketing: Seven, come eleven! After promising Clara J. that I would never again light a pipe at the race track, there I stood, one of the busiest puff-puff laddies on the circuit. Well, the truth of the matter is just this: I fell asleep at the switch and somebody put the white lights all over me. Just how I happened to join the Dream Builders' Association I don't know, but for several weeks I was Willie the Wild Boy at the race track and I kept all the Bookmakers busy trying not to laugh when they took my money. Every day when I showed up at the gate the Pipers played "Darling, Dream of Me!" and every time I picked a skate the Smokers' Society went into executive session and elected me a life member. Every horse that finished last gave me the trembling lip as he crawled home, well aware of the fact that I had caught him with the goods. I blame Bunch Jefferson for putting the bug in my Central. Bunch went down to the skating pond one day with $18 and picked four live wires at an average of 8 to 1. Then he began to talk about himself. After that event whenever I happened to meet Bunch he would raise his megaphone and fill the neighborhood with hot ozone, fresh from the oven. It was pitiful to see that boy swell.