‘But I must tell you something of _The Pig-Keepers’ Friend_. Willy’s nearest relative is an irascible uncle, who told him that he was wasting his life. Willy said that, on the contrary, he was enjoying it. The uncle maintained that Willy did nothing, and Willy replied that he wrote poetry. Then the indignant uncle did a foolish thing. He said that he was prepared to bet a hundred pounds that Willy never had a poem accepted by the editor of any existing periodical published in London. Willy jumped at that bet. That moribund monthly, _The Pig-Keepers’ Friend_ was at that time in the market. It had lost its circulation and had never had advertisements. The wretched enthusiast who had brought it into being was heartily sick of it. Willy offered a fiver for it, which was more than it was worth, and instantly became the proprietor. He then appointed himself editor, and in his editorial capacity accepted one of his own poems and printed it in the next issue. A prefatory note said that the editor had no doubt that the weary pig-keeper would be glad to beguile his hours of leisure with the following poem by his esteemed contributor, William Bunting. Willy sent a copy of it to his uncle, received his hundred, and was cut out of the uncle’s last will and testament. ‘Having acquired the magazine, Willy proceeded to make it the organ of the Impersonation Society. He still printed his own poems in it, and occasionally mine, but it was principally devoted to the cryptic record of the many strange activities of the Impersonation Society. The original title was retained, and occasional references to pigs and pig-keeping will be found in it. For instance, in the current number there are a number of spoof inquiries from agonised pig-keepers seeking the expert advice of the editor in their difficulties. One of them asks how, in the event of his pigs swarming, he is to know which of them is the queen. The editor’s replies are humorous and in some cases, I regret to say, Rabelaisian. ‘The present issue of the paper was on sale at the tobacconist’s. It has also been offered in the public streets by a supposed newsvender every day for the last month. The only copy purchased was bought by Jimmy, who found it by accident. As the paper is sold only by members, Mr Matthews will understand why his advertisements failed to get any result. And now that I’ve answered your questions, I’d like to put one to our prize-winner.’ ‘Go ahead,’ said Jimmy. ‘How many times have you dined at Wimbledon in the last week?’ ‘Four times, as it happens. You see, the views there over the Common are really——’ ‘You needn’t continue. You’ve said enough. I am sure that I may offer you the hearty congratulations of the club on your engagement.’ ‘Well, I’m blest,’ said Jimmy. ‘I am engaged, I’m pleased and proud to say, but how on earth did you know?’ ‘In many ways, and I’ll tell you one. Only one thing on earth could have made you forget your cigarette-case.’