"Yes; walk in. He's reading, and seems much improved. He'll be glad to see you."
Major Dudley looked up from his book as they appeared for a moment in the doorway, side by side. He smiled, and essayed to rise. Then John was at his side, gently pressing him back into his chair.
"Sit still, I beg you!" he said, taking the thin, soft hand of the old aristocrat. "I've only a moment, for Miss Dudley has promised to go with me to the track, and we mustn't delay. I'm glad to see you looking so well, Major."
"My health seems excellent, suh! But I cannot undergo any exertion. My haht is gettin' a little tahed, it seems, but it's been workin' long enough to deserve a rest. Won't you take a chair, suh?"
"Another time, thank you. The Prince is in fine trim, I believe?"
"Great colt, suh! Peter reports his condition puhfect."
"You have no apprehension in regard to the race?"
The old gentleman's eyes shot fire under their gray brows, and his body became more erect.
"I'm as satisfied he'll win as I am the sun will rise tuhmorrow!"
"Good! I share your belief to the full. Let me say good-bye now. The sun will not last much over an hour."