“I don’t understand you, my lady.”
“Then I’ll speak more plainly, Simpkins. I am not disposed to lay my man open to temptation.”
“What! Does your ladyship mean to insinuate that I’d do anything that warn’t quite square?”
“I insinuate nothing, Sam Simpkins. I only go so far as to say that you are not my servant now, and that I would not trust you in the least.”
“Hark at that now!” cried the trainer, turning up his eyes to the sporting trophies on the walls, and unconsciously letting them rest on the grinning mask of an old fox. Then “Ain’t you got a word to say for me, Sir Hilton? I has my faults, I know, but no man living would say I couldn’t be trusted. You allus found me right, Sir Hilton.”
“Always, Sam, when it suited your book.”
“Well, I am!” exclaimed the trainer.
“Yes, Sam, an awful old scamp,” said Lady Tilborough, laughing. “Thank you, my man. You’ve got your favourite, I’ve got mine, and the man to ride her straight and square as an English gentleman should ride an English horse.”
“All right, Sir Hilton. All right, my lady. Sorry I tried to give advice gratis for nothing; only mind this, both of you, if La Sylphide breaks down or Sir Hilton here loses his nerve through being out of training, don’t you blame me.”
“Don’t be alarmed, Simpkins,” said Lady Tilborough, in a tone which made the trainer draw back a step or two. “Here, Hilton.”