There seemed to be no doubt in his mind that he was going to win. There was more than a doubt in mine. I told Hephzy of my experience when I joined her in the Lounge. My attempts to say “Really” and “Isn't it” and “Rather” in the Heathcroft manner and with the Heathcroft accent pleased her very much. As to the result of my unpremeditated “tip” she was quite indifferent.
“If he loses it will serve him good and right,” she declared. “Gamblin's poor business and I sha'n't care if he does lose.”
“I shall,” I observed. “I feel responsible in a way and I shall be sorry.”
“'SO sorry,' you mean, Hosy. That's what that blunderin' steward said when he stepped on my skirt and tore the gatherin' all loose. I told him he wasn't half as sorry as I was.”
But at noon next day, when the observation was taken and the run posted on the bulletin board the figure was six hundred and two. My “tip” had been a good one after all and A. Carleton Heathcroft, Esquire, was richer by some seven hundred dollars, even after the expenses of treating the “smoke-room” and feeing the smoke-room steward had been deducted. I did not visit the smoke-room to share in the treat. I feared I might be expected to furnish more professional information. But that evening a bottle of vintage champagne was produced by our obsequious table steward. “With Mr. 'Eathcroft's compliments, sir, thank you, sir,” announced the latter.
Hephzibah looked at the gilt-topped bottle.
“WHAT in the world will we do with it, Hosy?” she demanded.
“Why, drink it, I suppose,” I answered. “It is the only thing we can do. We can't send it back.”
“But you can't drink the whole of it, and I'm sure I sha'n't start in to be a drunkard at my age. I'll take the least little bit of a drop, just to see what it tastes like. I've read about champagne, just as I've read about lords and ladies, all my life, but I never expected to see either of 'em. Well there!” after a very small sip from the glass, “there's another pet idea gone to smash. A lord looks like Ase Tidditt, and champagne tastes like vinegar and soda. Tut! tut! tut! if I had to drink that sour stuff all my life I'd probably look like Asaph, too. No wonder that Erkskine man is such a shriveled-up thing.”
I glanced toward the captain's table. Mr. Heathcroft raised his glass. I bowed and raised mine. The group at that table, the captain included, were looking in my direction. I judged that my smoke-room acquaintance had told them of my wonderful “tip.” I imagined I could see the sarcastic smile upon the captain's face. I did not care for that kind of celebrity.