The sporting chance

by Alice Askew; Claude Askew

He had come full of enthusiasm, and at a personal risk of which none but he himself knew the full measure, so his sense of wrong was all the more acute. Nor was he easily appeased, though both Pierce Trelawny and Anthony Royce did their best to make light of the incident.

"It was too bad of Armitage to pull your leg," Royce said feelingly. "I'll have a word with him on the subject. But in the meanwhile forget all about it, my boy, and enjoy your day."

Anthony Royce had shown himself very well disposed towards Mostyn on the way down, fully appreciative of the young man's enthusiasm as well as his ignorance, and it was due to him that Captain Armitage, who had evinced an inclination to continue the "leg-pulling" sport, had been finally silenced.

It was by Royce's own wish that he had taken a seat at the back of the coach, giving up his place in the front to the fair-haired youth, Lord Caldershot, gorgeous with eye-glass and button-hole, who had immediately appropriated Rada Armitage as his particular property for the day. They had already established themselves in the front when Mostyn clambered up at the back, and they were laughing together, their eyes turned upon him. He was sure, even then, that he was the object of their laughter. He had taken a dislike to the girl, though he could have given no reason for the feeling.

For he had recognised—he could not fail to recognise—that Rada was young—she could not have been much over twenty—high-spirited, and good to look at. Unfortunately he was always a little diffident and shy with strange girls—qualities that were not really natural to him, but which were the result of his home training—and he had not shown himself at his best that morning. Of course, matters had not been improved when she laughed at him, apparently without cause. When he mounted the coach his one wish was that the Armitages had been left out of the party altogether. He was struck by the contrast between Royce and the captain. The former was evidently strong and masterful, possessed of a will of iron, while the latter was bombastic, given to swagger, and totally lacking in repose. He was never still for a moment: he would shuffle his feet and fidget with his hands; he would spring up from his seat and then immediately sit down again; he would wave his arms and strike attitudes. His voice was now raised to a shout, now lowered to a whisper, hardly ever even in tone. Sometimes he would break out into snatches of song, particularly aggravating, since it usually occurred when he was being addressed. He was one of those men who seldom, even early in the morning, appear quite sober.

While on the road Armitage would have continued to make fun of Mostyn, an easy victim, had not Royce quietly intervened. The big financier had taken a fancy to the boy, and did not intend to see him bullied.

It was unfair, and particularly so because Mostyn had admitted from the first, and with becoming modesty, that he was totally lacking in racing experience. Yet he was obviously enthusiastic, and Anthony Royce, man of the world, admired the enthusiasm of the tall fair boy who was so simple and yet so manly withal. There was something about Mostyn's eyes, too; but upon this point the American was not yet sure of his ground. Mostyn Clithero was risking much that day. This jaunt to the Derby was a stolen expedition, undertaken without the knowledge of his father, and Mostyn knew quite well that when the truth came out there would be a terrible scene.

John Clithero looked upon the race-course as the devil's playground, and racing men as the devil's disciples; furthermore, he had sternly imposed this faith upon his children.

Mostyn had never accepted his father's views, though he did not dispute them. He liked horses without understanding them, and he had a good seat in the saddle, though his opportunities for riding were few and far between. It was natural that he should have a more open mind than either of his two elder brothers, James and Charles, for they had been brought up at home under their father's influence, while Mostyn had enjoyed an Eton and Oxford education, this being due to the intervention of his mother, now dead, who had probably vaguely realised that her elder sons were developing into prigs.

Mostyn, however, so far had respected his father's prejudices. He had never risked a penny in gambling of any sort; he had refused all invitations to attend race meetings; he had even avoided the theatre, this because he felt it his duty as his father's son. It was not an easy task for him, for his instincts were all towards the natural enjoyment of life: he was just a healthy-minded, well-intentioned young Englishman with nothing of the prig about him. Luckily for himself he developed a taste for athletics, and so by his prowess on the river and in the football field he gained respect both at school and University, and his prejudices were overlooked or readily forgiven. Mostyn never confided to anyone, till Pierce came upon the scene, how irksome these restraints were to him, how his inmost soul militated against them.