“Oh, I like animals, I don't deny,” Mortimer answered, “but I know very little about them—nothing about race horses.”
Mike frowned and looked disparagingly at the visitor. “He must be a quare duck,” he muttered to himself. That a man should know nothing of thoroughbreds was perfectly inexplicable to Gaynor. He knew many racing men whose knowledge of horseflesh was a subject for ridicule, but then they never proclaimed their ignorance, rather posed as good judges than otherwise.
But with startling inconsistency Mike explained: “There's many like ye, sir, only they don't know it, that's all; the woods is full av thim. Would ye like to give the filly a carrot, Miss?” he added, turning to Allis. “I'll bring some.”
When he returned Allis gave one to Lucretia, then they passed to the next stall.
“That's a useful horse,” explained the Trainer; “he's won some races in his 'time.”
“What's his name?” asked Mortimer.
“Game Boy. He's by the Juggler. Ye remember him, don't ye?”
Mortimer was forced to confess that he didn't quite remember Juggler.
“That's strange,” commented Mike, turning the big bay about with evident pride; “he won the 'Belmont,' at Jerome Park, did the ould Juggler. Ye must av heerd av that.”
Mortimer compromised by admitting that he had probably forgotten it.