Jim chuckled. "Yes, I think I know what kind of man your Mr. Leopold is like. But what did 'e say about the Cambridgeshire?"
"He only laughed a little once, and said he didn't think the 'orse would do much good in the autumn races—no, not races, that isn't the word."
"Handicaps?"
"Yes, that's it. But there's no relying on what Mr. Leopold says—he never says what he really means. But I 'eard William, that's the footman—"
"What are you stopping for? What did yer 'ear 'im say?"
"That he intends to have something on next spring."
"Did he say any race? Did he say the City and Sub.?"
"Yes, that was the race he mentioned."
"I thought that would be about the length and the breadth of it," Jim said, as he took up his knife and fork. There was only a small portion of the beef-steak left, and this he ate gluttonously, and, finishing the last remaining beer, he leaned back in the happiness of repletion. He crammed tobacco into a dirty clay, with a dirtier finger-nail, and said—
"I'd be uncommon glad to 'ear how he is getting on. When are you going back? Up for the day only?"