"Eh?"
"Every man will be wearing a top-hat to-morrow."
Mr. Bush began to look very sulky.
"I've hoed and I've planted in a straw for thirty year," he muttered, "day in, day out."
"There's no hoeing and planting on a racecourse," said Mr. Rodney, with vehement sarcasm.
"It'd make the going a bit heavy," said Miss Bindler reflectively.
"I fancy, Mr. Bush," said Mrs. Verulam very gently, "that, as you will not have any opportunity of hoeing at the races to-morrow, owing to all the silly rules and regulations, you will find it really pleasanter to be as everyone else is—I mean only, of course, as regards your head-covering."
"I haven't a-brought one," he mumbled; "I say I've only brought a straw."
"We must send a man to Windsor," said Mr. Rodney, with a sudden piercing decision, and he pushed eighteen times at an electric bell. The powdered Frederick appeared.