After this incident Milky Way was subjected to the ordeal of trying her weight, which she passed with honours. For—very fortunately as it turned out—the twenty-four hours' starvation which she had endured as left luggage had reduced her to the prescribed number of maunds, which she would otherwise have infallibly exceeded, since Mr Bhosh, being as yet a tyro in training Derby cracks, had allowed her to acquire a superfluous obesity.
Thus once more the machinations of the Duchess had only benefited the very individual they were intended to injure!
But it remained necessary to hire a practical jockey, since Cadwallader Perkin was still lamenting in dust and ashes at home, so Mr Bhosh ran about from pillow to post endeavouring to borrow a rider for Milky Way.
Owing, probably, to the Duchess's artifices, he encountered nothing but refusals and pleas of previous engagement—until, at the end of the tether of his patience, he said: "Since my mare cannot compete in a riderless condition, I myself will assume command and steer her to victory!"
Upon which gallant speech the entire air became darkened by clouds of upthrown hats and shouts of "Bravo, Bindabun!"
But upon this the pertinacious Duchess lodged the objection that he was not in correct toggery, and that, even if he still retained his tall hat, it would be contrary to etiquette to ride the Derby in a frock coat.
"Where are his racing colours?" she demanded.
"Here!" cried Mr Bhosh, pulling forth the cream and sky-blue silken jacket and cap from his pockets, and, discarding his frock coat, he assumed the garbage of a jockey in the twinkle of a jiffy.
"I protest," then cried the undaunted Duchess, "against such cruelty to animals as racing an overblown mare so soon after she has galloped from London!"
"Your stricture is just, O humane and distinguished lady," responded the judge, who had conceived a violent attachment to Milky Way and her owner, "and I will willingly postpone the race for an hour or two until the horse has recovered her breeze."