“Yah!” ejaculated the footman in disgust. “I wouldn’t put the price of a glass of ale on that ’orse.”
“Eh, why?” cried the butler, looking startled.
“’Cause Ajax won’t run.”
“What? How do you know?”
“I heard the guv’nor tell the little ’un so last night, and that he was to back Ducrow.”
“Phew!” whistled the butler.
“Put two quids on Ducrow, sir, and it’ll be all right. I’ve got ten shillings on, and I’d have made it two tens if I’d had a friend who’d ha’ lent me the coin.”
“Orthur,” whispered the butler, effusively; “you’re a good lad, and I’ll lend you the money.”
“You will, sir? And go on as I said?”
The butler nodded.