“Of course not, Sir Hilton. I forgot. What do you say, my lady? That there Jim Crow’s a good horse, and La Sylphide hasn’t the wind she had.”
“Indeed!” said Lady Tilborough.
“It’s a fact, my lady. What she wants is holding in and a waiting game, and just something as—you know, Sir Hilton—for the roosh at the last, as’ll take her in a couple o’ lengths ahead.”
“Yes, I understand,” said Sir Hilton, drily.
“You hear, my lady? I want you to win.”
“Thank you, Simpkins,” said Lady Tilborough, gravely. “I am greatly obliged.”
“And I’m to just take the mare in hand for you,” said the man, who, in his excitement, could not restrain his eagerness.
“Well, no, thank you, Simpkins,” said the lady, quietly. “You were always a very good trainer, and I made a good deal of money in the past, but I have a very trustworthy man now, and he might object to your interference at the eleventh hour.”
“Oh, I could soon make it right with him, my lady,” said the trainer, quickly.
“No doubt, Sam Simpkins,” said the lady, meaningly, “but I should be sorry to have my man’s morals assailed.”