after her experience with that old ruffian Tilborough, she has made up
her mind never to run in double harness again."

"Nonsense! Pluck up, old fellow; a woman likes a man to be manly, and
if she accepted you--"

"Ah, _if_ Hilt, _if_."

"She would, or I don't know her. I should like to see it come off, for
there wouldn't be a better matched pair in England. Go in and win."

"Well, hang me if I don't! I've been playing a shilly-shally waiting
game, and now I'll come to the point. But I say, what's this about you
in the papers--election news?"

"Oh, it's the wife's wish. She won't rest till I have `M.P.' at the end
of my name."

"Good thing too. You're getting mossy here. Go into Parliament, and it
will soon be rubbed off. The poor dear lady is spoiling you. Too much
apron-string. She's stopped your racing and hunting, but you must do
something. Go in and win your seat."

"I don't care much about it."

"More fool you! Think of the chances it will give you of a little life.
The House--there you are; an excuse for everything not quite in running
order with the ideas of such a lady as madam. Club? Best in London.
Late hours? Sitting till two, three, four, or milk-time."

"Yes; I never gave that a thought."

"An excuse for everything, dear boy, and your wife proud of you. Oh, I
should enter for those stakes, certainly. It will cost you something,
though."

"I suppose so; but, between ourselves, Lady Lisle has placed four thou'
to my account for election expenses."

"Brave little woman! The widow's all wrong."

"How! Why? What do you mean?"

"She said her ladyship kept the chequebook, and saw to the estate
herself, only allowing you a little pocket-money when you were a good
boy."

"Tell Lady Tilborough to mind her own business, Jack," said the baronet,
tartly.

"My dear Hilt, I'd share my last fiver with you, or I'd back any of your
paper with pleasure; but I'll be hanged if I'll do that I say, though,
come on to the race to-day."

Sir Hilton shook his head.

"Nonsense! Think of it. Your old filly, La Sylphide, first favourite.
I saw her a week ago. Lovely! Lady Tilborough told me she wouldn't
take four times as much for her as she gave at your sale."

"The beautiful gazelle-eyed creature!" sighed Sir Hilton.

"That she is."

"Who is up?" said Sir Hilton.

"Josh Rowle, your old jock, of course. The widow told me that she
wouldn't--I mean the mare--let anyone else go n