in favour of Sharpe doing the poetry hold--Carried, _nem. con._"

"_Nem. con_. is side too, Grim," said Rogers.

"Shut up, you mule! Sharpe, you'll have to do the poem."

"I say, you fellows, it will be horse work," said Sharpe, disconsolately.
"There isn't a rhyme to Biffen's."

"Oh! isn't there? What about 'spiffing'?"

Sharpe choked.

"Griffin."

"Tiffin."

Lamb squeaked out "stiff 'un," and some one gently led him out--even
Biffen's fags caved in at that.

"Sharpe, you're booked for number two, old man. Gentlemen, I direct your
attention to number three--Corker's did Indian clubs and the gold-fish
dodge."

"Oh, well," said Wilson, "we're not going to copy Corker's, anyhow. Let's
do dumb-bells and something else."

"I propose that Wilson does the something else," said Cherry,
good-naturedly.