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.