he rather a darling?"

On Mr. Pendyce's foot, or by the side of his chair, whence he could
see what was being eaten, sat the spaniel John, and now and then Mr.
Pendyce, taking a small portion of something between his finger and
thumb, would say:

"John!--Make a good breakfast, Sir James; I always say a
half-breakfasted man is no good!"

And Mrs. Pendyce, her eyebrows lifted, would look anxiously up and down
the table, murmuring: "Another cup, dear; let me see--are you sugar?"

When all had finished a silence fell, as if each sought to get away
from what he had been eating, as if each felt he had been engaged in an
unworthy practice; then Mr. Pendyce, finishing his last grape, wiped his
mouth.

"You've a quarter of an hour, gentlemen; we start at ten-fifteen."

Mrs. Pendyce, left seated with a vague, ironical smile, ate one mouthful
of her buttered toast, now very old and leathery, gave the rest to "the
dear dogs," and called:

"George! You want a new shooting tie, dear boy; that green one's quite
faded. I've been meaning to get some silks down for ages. Have you had
any news of your horse this morning?"

"Yes, Blacksmith says he's fit as a fiddle."

"I do so hope he'll win that race for you. Your Uncle Hubert once lost
four thousand pounds over the Rutlandshire. I remember perfectly; my
father had to pay it. I'm so glad you don't bet, dear boy!"

"My dear mother, I do bet."

"Oh, George, I hope not much! For goodness' sake, don't tell your
father; he's like all the Pendyces, can't bear a risk."

"My dear mother, I'm not likely to; but, as a matter of fact, there is
no risk. I stand to win a lot of money to nothing."

"But, George, is that right?"

"Of course it's all right."

"Oh, well, I don't understand." Mrs. Pendyce dropped her eyes, a flush
came into her white cheeks; she looked up again and said quickly:
"George, I should like just a little bet on your horse--a real bet, say
about a sovereign."

George Pendyce's creed permitted the show of no emotion. He smiled.

"All right, mother, I'll put it on for you. It'll be about eight to
one."

"Does that mean that if he wins I shall get eight?"

George nodded.

Mrs. Pendyce looked abstractedly at his tie.

"I think it might be two sovereigns; one seems very little to lose,
because I do so want him to win. Isn't Helen Bellew perfectly charming
this morning! It's delightful to see a woman look her best in the
morning."

George turned, to hide