They made merry over this, and extracted from it all kinds of gay possibilities to suit their humour.
"You said a little while ago, Alf, that you could make a thousand pounds as safe as--as safe as—"
"As safe as nails, Lil. And so I could, and more perhaps, over the Cesarewitch."
"The Cesarewitch!" she repeated, curious to know the meaning of so strange a word.
"It is a big race that will be run soon--a race worth thousands of pounds--and I know the horse that's going to win."
"That's very clever of you, Alfred."
Alfred nodded, taking full credit to himself.
"But how can you make a thousand pounds by that, Alf? A thousand pounds! I never heard of so much money."
"Little simpleton I'll show you as much one day, and more thousands at the back of it. How can I make it? Why, I'll tell you. Here I am with 'the tip.' The tip," he continued, noticing her puzzled look, "is the secret that some of us get hold of as to which horse is going to win a race."
"O," was Lily's simple reply.