The Amateur Gentleman

"Ah, Beverley--here's the dooce of a go!" he exclaimed, "that fool

of a fellow of mine has actually sent me out to ride in a 'Trone

d'Amour' cravat, and I've only just discovered it! The rascal knows

I always take the field in an 'Osbaldistone' or 'Waterfall.' Now how

the dooce can I be expected to ride in a thing like this! Most

distressing, by Jove it is!"

"Eight thousand guineas!" said the Captain, yawning. "Steepish, b'gad,

steepish! Eight thousand at ten to one--hum! Now, if Fortune should

happen to smile on me to-day--by mistake, of course--still, if she

does, I shall clear enough to win free of Gaunt's claws for good and

all, b'gad!"

"Then I shall be devilish sorry to have to beat you, Sling, my boy!"

drawled the Marquis, "yes, doocid sorry,--still--"

"Eh--what? Beat the 'Rascal,' Jerny? Not on your weedy 'Clinker,'

b'gad--"

"Oh, but dooce take me, Sling, you'd never say the 'Rascal' was the

better horse? Why, in the first place, there's too much daylight

under him for your weight--besides--"

"But, my dear Jerny, you must admit that your 'Clinker' 's inclined

to be just--a le-e-etle cow-hocked, come now, b'gad?"

"And then--as I've often remarked, my dear Sling, the 'Rascal' is

too long in the pasterns, not to mention--"

"B'gad! give me a horse with good bellows,--round, d' ye see, well

ribbed home--"

"My dear Sling, if you could manage to get your 'Rascal' four new

legs, deeper shoulders, and, say, fuller haunches, he might possibly

stand a chance. As it is, Sling, my boy, I commiserate you--but hallo!

Devenham, what's wrong? You look a little off color."

"Well, for one thing, I want my breakfast," answered the Viscount.

"So do I!" cried the Captain, springing to his feet, "but, b'gad,

Dick, you do look a bit palish round the gills, y' know."

"Effect of hunger and a bad night, perhaps."

"Had a bad night, hey, Dick? Why, so did I," said the Captain,

frowning. "Dreamed that the 'Rascal' fell and broke his neck, poor

devil, and that I was running like the wind--jumping hedges and

ditches with Jasper Gaunt close at my heels--oh, cursed unpleasant,

y'know! What--is breakfast ready? Then let's sit down, b'gad, I'm

famished!"

So down they sat forthwith and, despite the Viscount's arm, and the

Marquis of Jerningham's cravat, a very hearty and merry meal they

made of it.

But lo! as they prepared to rise from the table, voices were heard

beyond the door, whereupon the Viscount sat up suddenly to listen.

"Why--egad!" he exclaimed, "I do believe it's my Roman!"

"No, by heaven!" said the Marquis, also listening, "dooce take me if

it isn't my great-aunt--her Graceless Grace, by Jove it is!"

Even as he spoke, the door opened and the Duchess swept in, all

rustling silks and furbelows, very small, very dignified, and very

imperious. Behind her, Barnabas saw a tall, graceful figure,

strangely young-looking despite his white hair, which he wore tied

behind in a queue, also his clothes, though elegant, were of a

somewhat antiquated fashion; but indeed, this man with his kindly

eyes and gentle, humorous mouth, was not at all like the Roman

parent Barnabas had pictured.