em.
B-r-r-r-r-r-r! Sets my head on fire. Keep off, you little imps.
There, there, and there! Hah!" he cried at last, dropping breathlessly
into a chair. "Br! I was too much for them," he said, laughing weakly.
"Rather queer, though, for them to choose a race day to swarm. But--
I've got to win, and I mean to."

"Here, Hilt, old chap," said Granton, who as a last resource had
determined to try a hair of the dog which had bitten his friend, and he
drained three-parts of a glass of the champagne into one of the glasses,
and was offering it to his friend--"tip this drop off and come on."

The words acted like magic. Sir Hilton started up and dashed the wine
aside.

"What!" he cried. "Do you think I'm mad? Drink at a time like this?
No, sir!"

"No, dear; wait here," cried Syd, outside. "I'll join you again
directly I've found him," and Syd rushed in breathlessly.

"Who's that?" cried Sir Hilton.

"Oh, there you are, uncle! Hooray! You look splendid. The winning
colours. Hooray! I've got on that tenner."

"Here, Syd," cried Sir Hilton, catching the boy by the arm and
whispering mysteriously, "can you hear the bees?"

"Hear the what?" cried the boy, staring.

"The bees; they're coming back--swarming. Buzz--buzz--buzz! Listen!
There they go!"

"Gammon, uncle. It's the crowd on the course--swarming in thousands."

"Yes, that's it, Syd. Take care, you'll get stung, my boy! Ugh! You
beast! Would you!" and whish, whish, whish went the whip, as an
imaginary insect was beaten down to the floor and followed and stamped
on by its slayer. "That has settled you."

"Why, doctor," cried Syd, who had been staring at his uncle,
open-mouthed, "don't say he's coxybobus!"

"I wasn't going to, my boy, but he's horribly screwed."

"Screwed? He can't ride. It must be D.T. Here, uncle," cried the boy,
seizing him and shaking him violently, "pull yourself together. You've
got to ride."

"Yes, all right, my boy; and your aunt must never know. There, don't
tear my shirt. Hear them--the bees again? Do you recollect, my little
man, `How doth the little busy bee,' eh?"

At that moment Molly, wondering at the buzz of conversation within,
forgot her young husband's orders to wait, and came into the hall, to
stare wonderingly.

"Oh, Syd, what is the matter with your uncle?"

"Don't bother. Got 'em. What's to be done, doctor? Here, I know," he
said, staring the while at Sir Hilton, who had seized a cha