hemselves vastly witty over it.

"Hullo Paddy, so you're the girl he left behind him!" "Hear he went off
with two suits of your clothes, one over the other." "Cheer up, old man;
he's left you the grass-cutter and the pony, and what _he_ leaves must
be worth having, I'll bet!" and so on.

I suppose I'd had a good deal more than my share of the champagne, but
all of a sudden I began to feel pretty warm.

"You're all d----d funny," I said, "but I daresay you'll find he's left
me something that _is_ worth having."

"Oh, yes!" "Go on!" "Paddy's a great man when he's drunk," and a lot
more of the same sort.

"I tell you what it is," said I, "I'll back the pony he's left here to
trot his twelve miles an hour on the road."

"Bosh!" says Barclay of the 112th. "I've seen him, and I'll lay you a
thousand rupees even he doesn't."

"Done!" said I, whacking my hand down on the table.

"And I'll lay another thousand," says another fellow.

"Done with you too," said I.

Every one began to stare a bit then.

"Go to bed, Paddy," says the Colonel, "you're making an exhibition of
yourself."

"Thank you, sir; I know pretty well what I'm talking about," said I;
but, by George, I began privately to think I'd better pull myself
together a bit, and I got out my book and began to hedge--laid three to
one on the pony to do eleven miles in the hour, and four to one on him
to do ten--all the fellows delighted to get their money on. I was to
choose my own ground, and to have a fortnight to train the pony, and by
the time I went to bed I stood to lose about L1,000.

Somehow in the morning I didn't feel quite so cheery about things--one
doesn't after a big night--one gets nasty qualms, both mental and the
other kind. I went out to look after the pony, and the first thing I saw
by way of an appetiser was Biddy, with a face as long as my arm. Biddy,
I should explain, was a chap called Biddulph, in the Artillery; they
called him Biddy for short, and partly, too, because he kept a racing
stable with me in those days, I being called Paddy by every one, because
I was Irish--English idea of wit--Paddy and Biddy, you see.

"Well," said he, "I hear you've about gone and done it this time. The
112th are going about with trumpets and shawms, and looking round for
ways to spend that thousand when they get it. There are to be new polo
ponies, a big luncheon, and a piece of plate bought for the mess, in
memory of that benefactor of the regiment, th