“Rather a big field, though, Sam.”
“Yes, sir; but there’s only one as can stay.”
“Exactly. La Sylphide, of course. By George! I’ll take the liberty of making her namesake a present.”
“Very good of you, sir, but she’s out of it.”
“What?”
“Jim Crow’s the horse, sir. First favourite now.”
“Bah!” cried the doctor.
“What! Ain’t you heard, sir?”
“Heard! Heard what?”
“Lady Tilborough’s mare won’t run.”