“Not yet!” said Jinny.
“Thank God!” He grasped effusively at her hand, but encountering the horn first, shook that instead, without apparently noticing the difference. “Just as I woke up, it popped into my nut that this was the morning of the cattle fair. Out of bed I flew like from that bed in the Crystal Palace that chucks you out by a spring, and though I mayn’t have beat the half-mile record, I’m beat myself! Whew! Not a bad gag, that!” And mopping his brow, he grinned through a grimy handkerchief.
“I thought you looked odd,” said Jinny, equally relieved.
“Yes, I know my collar’s a rag. But better sweat than debt, eh?”
“It’s not your collar—it’s seeing you out of your dressing-gown at this hour!”
“You’re a quiz, that’s what you are,” laughed Tony.
“Never mind! That cloak comes nigh it, and you’ve still got your carpet slippers.”
“Have I? O Lord! I thought the road was feeling hard. Is that a bar I see before me?”
“It is,” said Jinny severely. “But while you’re still sober, perhaps you will tell me why you’ve changed your mind about the horse?”
“Because I’ve done with marionettes. I’m going back to the legitimate.”