ountry gentlewoman while papa
worked all week in the city. She saw the cart in the market, and ate
three (for she had the health of a barmaid), and bid in the load, and
George with it. 'Pon my soul! she did. They found his boots first. And
the lady said, before all the grinning Johns and Willums, that since
she had bought him she supposed she would have to keep him. And, by Gads
life! she has got him yet, which is a deal stranger."

Even the duke laughed. For, as Fox told it, the story was irresistible.
But it came as near to being a wanton insult as a reference to his
Grace's own episode might. The red came slowly back into his eye. Fox
stared vacantly, as was his habit when he had done or said something
especially daring. And Comyn and I waited, straining and expectant, like
boys who have prodded a wild beast and stand ready for the spring. There
was a metallic ring in the duke's voice as he spoke.

"I have heard, Mr. Carvel, that you can ride any mount offered you."

"Od's, and so he can!" cried Jack. "I'll take oath on that."

"I will lay you an hundred guineas, my Lord," says his Grace, very
off-hand, "that Mr. Carvel does not sit Baltimore's Pollux above twenty
minutes."

"Done!" says Jack, before I could draw breath.

"I'll take your Grace for another hundred," calmly added Mr. Fox.

"It seems to me, your Grace," I cried, angry all at once, "it seems to
me that I am the one to whom you should address your wagers. I am not
a jockey, to be put up at your whim, and to give you the chance to lose
money."

Chartersea swung around my way.

"Your pardon, Mr. Carvel," said he, very coolly, very politely; "yours
is the choice of the wager. And you reject it, the others must be called
off."

"Slife! I double it!" I said hotly, "provided the horse is alive, and
will stand up."

"Devilish well put, Richard!" Mr. Fox exclaimed, casting off his
restraint.

"I give you my word the horse is alive, sir," he answered, with a mock
bow; "'twas only yesterday that he killed his groom, at Hampstead."

A few moments of silence followed this revelation. It was Charles Fox
who spoke first.

"I make no doubt that your Grace, as a man of honour,"--he emphasized
the word forcibly,--"will not refuse to ride the horse for another
twenty minutes, provided Mr. Carvel is successful. And I will lay your
Grace another hundred that you are thrown, or run away with."

Truly, to cope with a wit like Mr. Fox's, the duke had need for