“Well, Dot—head or harp? If you’re right, you have them.”
“Harp,” cried Dot.
They both examined the coin. “They’re yours,” said Frank, with much solemnity; “and now you’ve got the best horse—yes, I believe the very best horse alive, for nothing.”
“Only half of him, Frank.”
“Well,” said Frank; “it’s done now, I suppose.”
“Oh, of course it is,” said Dot: “I’ll draw out the agreement, and give you a cheque for the money to-night.”
And so he did; and Frank wrote a letter to Igoe, authorizing him to hand over the horses to Mr Blake’s groom, stating that he had sold them—for so ran his agreement with Dot—and desiring that his bill for training, &c., might be forthwith forwarded to Kelly’s Court. Poor Frank! he was ashamed to go to take a last look at his dear favourites, and tell his own trainer that he had sold his own horses.
The next morning saw him, with his servant, on the Ballinasloe coach, travelling towards Kelly’s Court; and, also, saw Brien Boru, Granuell, and Finn M’Goul led across the downs, from Igoe’s stables to Handicap Lodge.
The handsome sheets, hoods, and rollers, in which they had hitherto appeared, and on which the initial B was alone conspicuous, were carefully folded up, and they were henceforth seen in plainer, but as serviceable apparel, labelled W. B.
“Will you give fourteen to one against Brien Boru?” said Viscount Avoca to Lord Tathenham Corner, about ten days after this, at Tattersall’s.