"I'll tell you, Miranda," said Harold Jupp. "Jemima Puddleduck's a Plater."
The awful condemnation had no sooner been pronounced than the butler, with his attendant footman, appeared to remove the tea.
"We have just heard over the telephone, sir," he said to Sir Chichester, "the winner of the last race."
"Oh!" cried Miranda breathlessly. "Which was it?"
"Chewing Gum."
Miranda swept round to her husband, radiant. "There, what did I tell you? Chewing Gum. What were the odds, Harper?" She turned again to the butler. "Oh, you do know, don't you?"
"Yes, madam, twelve to one. They say he rolled home."
Miranda Brown jumped in the air.
"Oh, I have won a hundred and twenty pounds."
Harold Jupp was sympathetic and consolatory.