"Nix," replied the two men in the seat.
"Never had such chance to size up the feminine hunch as I did out at Morris Park 'bout six or seven years ago," went on the man with the eccentric cigar. "Told my wife one night during the fall meeting at the park that I was going to the races the next day, that a shoe clerk I knew had told me about a good thing that was going to happen—he'd got it from a trainer to whom he'd sold a pair of shoes—and I was going after some of it.
"'Theophilus Nextdoor,' says she to me, 'how dare you deliberately tell me that you are going to gamble your money away, when I haven't a rag to my back and the coal not yet put in!'
"'Can't help it, Clarissa,' says I, 'I've just naturally got to invest $50 on this good thing. I know it ain't right, but I've got to do it, anyhow.'
"Then she let out on me, and we both got mad. I tried to square it up with her the next morning, and at the breakfast table I read her the names of the horses that were going to run in the race in which I had the good thing the shoe clerk had given me. When I came to the name of a horse called Jodan, she dropped her coffee cup with a clatter and stared at me.
"'Jodan,' said she. Isn't that short for Joseph Daniel?'
"'Yes'm, I guess so,' I said, not knowing whether it was or not, but anxious to stroke her the right way.
"'Is that the horse you are going to invest your money on?' she asked me, breathlessly.
"'No, it's another one,' said I.
"'Well, you might just as well stay home, then,' said she, positively. 'You'll lose your money. Jodan will win. I dreamt all night last night of my Uncle Joseph Daniel McGeachy, who was lost at sea when I was a little bit of a thing, and if Jodan is short for Joseph Daniel, as it must be, then Jodan will win.'