look at La Sylphide. Oh,
Jenny, she is a picture now."

"Look here, Mark; 'pon your word, now, is that the truth?"

"Why, you dear, jealous, little darling, you know it is. Look here,
Jenny; she runs to-day for the cup, and, with Josh Rowle up, it's a
certainty."

"I know better than that, Mark. There's no certainty in horse-racing."

"Oh, yes, there is, if you've got the right mare and the man up who
understands her, as Josh does, when he isn't on the drink. The guv'nor
and Josh Rowle are the only two men who can ride La Sylphide, and I tell
you it's a certainty. I've put the pot on this time."

"What for?"

"Because I want it to boil."

"What, to make a what-you-may-call-it--a mash for La Sylphide?"

"Na-a-a-y!" cried Mark. "What a dear, innocent, little darling you are,
Jenny! We call it putting the pot on when we lay every dollar we can
scrape together, and more too, on a horse winning."

"And that's what you've done?" said Jenny, quietly.

"That's right, little one; every mag."

"Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself, Mark."

"What!" cried the young man in dismay.

"Didn't you promise me that if I'd keep comp'ny with you, you'd give up
all your old tricks you learnt with Master--Sir Hilton--and be steady?"

"And so I have been. Saved every penny, and thought of nothing but
getting on for you."

"Yes, it looks like it," said the girl, sarcastically.

"Well, so it do. This is only a bit of a flutter."

"Flutter, indeed!"

"And what's it for?"

"To make a fool of yourself again, like your master."

"Oh, is it?" said the young fellow, sturdily. "You know well enough
that if I saved all my wages I couldn't save enough to take a pub in
twenty years. If La Sylphide passes the post first to-day she'll land
me enough to take a nice little roadside hotel, something like Sam
Simpkins, the trainer at Tilborough, only not so big, of course; nice
little place, where I can plant my wife behind the bar, and do a nice
trade with visitors, somewhere down in the country where there's
waterfalls and mountains and lakes."

"And that is why you've begun betting again, Mark?" said the girl, a
little more softly.

"Yes, that's what I meant, my gal, for I didn't think you'd take it like
that. Our mare--I mean Lady Tilborough's--La Sylphide being a
certainty. But if she loses, I shan't go and marry some rich woman for
the sake of her money."

There was silence for a few moments, Mark turning a