Miss T. got herself into the local papers this week. Like Miss Kit, who she resembles in a number of respects, she could unkindly be described as ‘dimensionally challenged’: though she is now fourteen, she is still four foot seven. She must surely be the shortest girl in her class, and to less of a femme forte, this might have been a cause of repining and embarassment. In Miss T’s case, however, she has made a positive advantage of it. She waltzed off and, with the aid of a pony belonging to her best friend, qualified for the Shetland Pony Grand National, informing her parents only once she was definitely heading for the finals at Olympia after a series of eight qualifying rounds. For this miniature Grand National, ponies have to be under 40 inches, and riders under four foot eight, so she has just made it (the Best Friend passed the five foot mark in the course of the year). Miss T is one of only two Scottish riders to have qualified, and is now busy raising money. We have duly made a modest contribution to the war chest, and I bought her a copy of National Velvet — it seemed, somehow, the book of the moment.