hortly; "do I look all right?"

"All right, Sir Hilton? Splendid!"

The eager admiration seemed to be perfectly real, as the trainer walked
round, inspecting carefully.

"Not your old things, are they, Sir Hilton?"

"Oh, yes. Been lying by these three years. Look--creased and soiled?"

"Fresh as a daisy, Sir Hilton. Why, its like old times. Here, hang the
business! It may take care of itself to-day. I'm coming to see you
ride."

The man spoke back over his shoulder, as, leaving his guest shaking
himself down in the unaccustomed garb, he hurried into the office, where
a pop was heard, and he returned, bearing a waiter, on which was a
foaming champagne bottle and a couple of glasses.

This he placed upon a little marble table, and began to fill the glasses
with trembling hands, a little in first one and then in the other, till
the cream ceased to threaten flowing over, when he placed the bottle by
itself and bore the waiter and its glasses towards the guest. "Hullo!
What have you got there, Sam?"

"Irroy, black seal, Sir Hilton."

"I see; but I didn't order it."

"No, Sir Hilton, but you won't mind taking a glass with the old
trainer--to La Sylphide, and the winning of the cup?"

"No, no, no, man. Nonsense! Very good of you, but I want a cool head
and a steady hand."

"Of course you do, Sir Hilton; but one glass o' dry fizz! Not much harm
in that, Sir Hilton. You'll do me the honour, sir, just for luck?
Tighten up your nerves, and make you win in a canter."

"Do you want me to win, Sam?" said Sir Hilton, sharply.

"Win, Sir Hilton? Of course. I thought I was going to lose heavily,
but I've put it right, and it means a couple of hundred if you sail in
first."

"And if I lose?"

"I shall be just about even, Sir Hilton," said the man, with a grin, as
he held out the tray.

"Well," said Sir Hilton, whose cheeks were flushed with excitement, "I
shall win, Sam."

He took up the clear, foaming glass, from up whose centre the tiny beads
were rising fast, like a fountain, to break and add to the sparkling
foam. "Here's La Sylphide, Sam."

"Here's La Sylphide, Sir Hilton," cried the trainer, "and thanking my
old master for the honour done to his old trainer Simpkins, chrissen
Sam."

As he spoke he fixed his eyes full upon those of the gaily-dressed
jockey facing him, and, taking his time from his guest, raised the glass
to his lips and kept it there till it was drained, before holding out