The fifteenth of July was approaching, and the Polite World, the

World of Fashion, was stirred to its politest depths. In the clubs

speculation was rife, the hourly condition of horses and riders was

discussed gravely and at length, while betting-books fluttered

everywhere. In crowded drawing-rooms and dainty boudoirs, love and

horse-flesh went together, and everywhere was a pleasurable

uncertainty, since there were known to be at least four competitors

whose chances were practically equal. Therefore the Polite World,

gravely busied with its cards or embroidery, and at the same time

striving mentally to compute the exact percentage of these chances,

was occasionally known to revoke, or prick its dainty finger.

Even that other and greater world, which is neither fashionable nor

polite,--being too busy gaining the wherewithal to exist,--even in

fetid lanes and teeming streets, in dingy offices and dingier places

still, the same excitement prevailed; busy men forgot their business

awhile; crouching clerks straightened their stooping backs, became

for the nonce fabulously rich, and airily bet each other vast sums

that Carnaby's "Clasher" would do it in a canter, that Viscount

Devenham's "Moonraker" would have it in a walk-over, that the

Marquis of Jerningham's "Clinker" would leave the field nowhere, and

that Captain Slingsby's "Rascal" would run away with it.

Yes, indeed, all the world was agog, rich and poor, high and low.

Any barefooted young rascal scampering along the kennel could have

named you the four likely winners in a breath, and would willingly

have bet his ragged shirt upon his choice, had there been any takers.

Thus, then, the perspicacious waiter at the "George" who, it will be

remembered, on his own avowal usually kept his eyes and ears open,

and could, therefore, see as far through a brick wall as most, knew

at once that the tall young gentleman in the violet coat with silver

buttons, the buckled hat and glossy Hessians, whose sprigged

waistcoat and tortuous cravat were wonders among their kind, was

none other than a certain Mr. Beverley, who had succeeded in

entering his horse at the last possible moment, and who, though an

outsider with not the remotest chance of winning, was, nevertheless,

something of a buck and dandy, the friend of a Marquis and Viscount,

and hence worthy of all respect. Therefore the perspicacious waiter

at the "George" viewed Barnabas with the eye of reverence, his back

was subservient, and his napkin eloquent of eager service, also he

bowed as frequently and humbly as such expensive and elegant attire

merited; for the waiter at the "George" had as just and reverent a

regard for fine clothes as any fine gentleman in the Fashionable

World.

"A chair, sir!" Here a flick of the officious napkin. "Now shall we

say a chop, sir?" Here a smiling obeisance. "Or shall we make it a

steak, sir--cut thick, sir--medium done, and with--"




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