I am not coming home in 1920,
And maybe not in 1921;
If all the English England's dead and gone,
One can remember; one can carry on.
H.B.
LITTLE TALES FOR YOUNG PLUMBERS.
The Conversion of George.
George was a plumber by trade and a striker by occupation. He did his plumbing in his holidays, when he was not busy. He liked plumbing, as it gave his throat a rest. He was really the Champion Long Distance Plumber of the World and had gained the R.S.V.P.'s gold medal for doing the back-in-a-minute-to-get-your-tools in more than two hours. And his heart was as tender as his feet. If he heard a clock strike he longed to strike in sympathy, so that hard-hearted employers who knew George's weakness always kept their time-pieces muffled.
The bursting of our water-pipe was the means of bringing me into touch with George. He joined our bathing-party in the front hall, and said simply, "I am the plumber." Just like that. He then said that he would swim home for his tools, as he had forgotten the can-opener. When he got back Auntie was drowned.