Now,
Mr Sydney Smithers. Smithers! There's a name for a respectable girl to
want to take!"

"Well, hang it!" cried the boy, "it's better than Simpkins."

"Not it," growled the owner of the latter; but he scratched his head, as
if in doubt. "Be quiet, Molly. Now, Mr Smithers, I mean my gal to have
her rights."

"Yes, Mr Simpkins."

"Get it over, Syd."

"Yes, sir; I quite agree with you."

"That's right, then, so far; but what I say is that you ought to have
come straight to me, as her father, and `Mr Simpkins,' says you, `I've
took a great fancy to your filly'--daughter, I mean--`and I'm going to
make proposals for her 'and,' you says."

"Yes, Mr Simpkins; I'm very much attached to your daughter and I've
married her."

"No, you didn't, young gentleman," cried the old man, irascibly.
"That's just what you ought to have done."

"Yes, exactly, Mr Simpkins; but, I say, what are you doing to-day about
the big race?"

"Never you mind about no big race, young fellow. I want to know what
you're going to do about the human race. You've married my gal
candlestine, as they call it, and I want to know about settlements. You
don't expect I'm going to keep you and your wife and family?"

"Well, he won't let me," said Syd, in response to a whisper.

"Of course he won't," said the trainer. "Not likely. You're a
gentleman, I suppose. You won't want to do nothing for your living."

"Oh, I don't know," said Syd.

"Well, that means you will. That sounds better. But you won't want to
come and live here and help serve behind my bar?"

"No, I'm blest if I do!"

"Oh, dad, drop it," cried the girl.

"No, nor I shan't drop it, miss, till I've seen about your rights.
Suppose you mean him to come to London and begin figgering on the stage
along with you?"

"I don't, dad."

"Well, I'm glad you've got so much sense in your head, my gal, for, you
mark my words, he's the wrong sort. Too short and fat."

"Dad!"

"Well, so he is, my gal. I dunno what you sees in him."

"Oh!" ejaculated the girl, and she turned her back, snatched Syd's tie
undone, and began to retie it, as she whispered; "Oh, do finish it all,
Syd. I want to get good places on the stand."

"Perhaps," continued the trainer, "I might make you of some use among
the 'osses after a bit. But you'd have to train, and get rid of a stone
of that fat."

"Fat!" cried Syd, indignantly.

"Oh, dad, what a shame!" cried the young wife, with tears in her