SCENE--_Within measurable distance of Woking. Enter lounger and marksman R. and L._ _Lounger (heartily)._ Why, I _am_ glad to see you! And how are things going on? _Marksman (cordially, but abruptly)._ Capitally! Good-bye! _Loung._ But I say, what a hurry you are in! Can't you stop a minute for a chat? _Marks._ Another time, but just now moments are precious. _Loung._ But I say, you see I have found myself here--it doesn't take much longer than getting down to Wimbledon. _Marks._ Of course it doesn't--whoever said it did? But there, old chap, I _must_ be off! _Loung._ You are in a hurry! Ah, we used to have pleasant days in the old place? _Marks._ Did we? I daresay we did. _Loung._ Why, of course! Grand old days! Don't you remember what fun it used to be decorating your tent; and then, when the ladies came down--which they did nearly all the day long--what larks it was getting them tea and claret-cup? _Marks._ Very likely. But we don't have many ladies now, and a good job, too--they _are_ a bore. _Loung._ Well, you _are_ a chap! Why, how can there be any fun without your sisters, and your cousins, and your maiden aunts? _Marks._ We don't want fun. But there, good-bye! _Loung._ But I say, I have come all this way to look you up. _Marks. (unbending)._ Very kind of you, my dear fellow, you have chosen rather an unfortunate time. _Loung._ Why, at Wimbledon you had nothing to do! _Marks._ Very likely. But then Bisley isn't Wimbledon. _Loung. (dryly)._ So it seems. Everyone said that when they moved the camp further away from home, they would ruin the meeting. _Marks._ Then everyone was wrong. Why, we are going on swimmingly. _Loung._ It must be beastly dull. _Marks._ Not at all. Lovely country, good range, and, after it rains, two minutes later it is dry as bone. _Loung._ Yes, but it stands to reason that it _can't_ be as popular as Wimbledon. _Marks._ My dear fellow, figures are the best test of that. In all the history of the Association we never had more entries than this year. _Loung._ That may be, but you don't have half the fun you had nearer town. _Marks. (laughing)._ Don't want to! Business, my dear fellow, not pleasure! And now, old man, I really _must_ be off. Ta! ta! See you later. [_Exit._ Loung. Well, whatever he may say, I prefer Wimbledon. And as there doesn't seem much for _me_ to do down here, I shall return to town. [_Does so. Curtain._ * * * * * [Illustration: _Irascible Lieutenant (down engine-room tube)._ "Is there a blithering idiot at the end of this tube?" _Voice from Engine-room._ "Not at this end, sir!"] * * * * * [Illustration: VOLO EPISCOPARI. _Festive Middy._ "I say, guv'nor! I think you must rather like being Bishop here!" _His Lordship._ "Well, my boy, I hope I do! But why do you ask?"