“But, my boy,” said the squire, “remember there’s some one else to be considered in the matter. I can’t undertake to keep two horses for you; you have your own pony already.”
“All right, father; there’ll be no difficulty there. I can sell my own pony, and Rosebud won’t eat more nor take up more room than poor Punch; and I shall put a few sovereigns into my own pocket too by selling my own pony.”
“That is to say, if you are the winner, my boy; but there will be ninety-nine chances to one against that.”
“Oh yes, I know that, father; but ‘nothing venture, nothing win,’ says the proverb.—Well, Amos, what do you say? will you be one?”
“I cannot,” said his brother gravely.
“Oh, why not?” asked his sister; “it will be so nice for dear Walter to have that beautiful creature for his own.”
“I do not approve of raffles, and cannot therefore take part in one,” replied Amos.
“Why, surely,” she exclaimed, “there can be no harm in them.”
“I cannot agree with you there, dear Julia,” he said. “I believe raffles to be utterly wrong in principle, and so there must be harm in them. They are just simply a mild form of gambling, and nothing got by them can be got fairly and strictly honestly.”
“Eh! that’s strong indeed,” cried Walter.