The day before the Derby, the 12th of the month, Alan asked his day's leave and got it. The cashier more readily granted Alan's request, as Crane had intimated in his letter that it would please him if the lad were to have a holiday.
Alan went up to New York that evening. Earlier in the day he somewhat hesitatingly confided to Mortimer that he had backed Lucretia when she was well and looked to have a good chance to win her race; now she was scratched, and his money was lost. Bearing in mind what Crane had said about The Dutchman's chances of winning, even with Lucretia in the race, he felt now that it appeared almost like a certainty for Crane's horse. If he could have a bet on The Dutchman he would surely recoup his losses. Alan explained all these racing matters very minutely and with great earnestness to Mortimer, for the latter was quite unfamiliar with the science of race gambling. Having stated his predicament and hoped-for relief, as an excuse for so doing, he wound up by asking his companion for a loan of two hundred dollars.
Mortimer had little less horror of betting and its evil influence than Mrs. Porter, but under the circumstances he would perhaps have complied with the boy's request had he been provided with sufficient funds. As it was, he said: “I don't like the idea of lending you money to bet with, Alan; your mother wouldn't thank me for doing so; besides, if you lost it you'd feel uncomfortable owing me the money. At any rate, I haven't got it. I couldn't lend you two hundred, or half of it. I suppose I haven't got a hundred to my credit.”
“Oh, never mind then,” answered Alan, angrily, stiffening up, because of Mortimer's lecture.
“I'll lend you what I've got.”
“I don't want it. I can get it some other place.”
“You'd better take—”
“Take nothing—I don't want it.”
“Very well, I'm sorry I can't oblige you. But take my advice and don't bet at all; it'll only get you into trouble.”
“Thanks; I don't need your advice. I was a fool to ask you for the money.”