"Well--er--no-o-o-o. Oh, yes; a little bit of badinage."
"Eh? What about? Nothing spiteful? No, she wouldn't. She's a dear
good creature, bless her!"
"Good boy! So she is--bless her!"
"Ah! I once thought when the old man died, that--"
"Oh, did you? Well, you didn't, and you've married well enough to
satisfy any man."
Sir Hilton sighed, and his visitor looked at him out of the corner of
his eye.
"Come, old man, you don't seem to care for your corn. You didn't have a
wet night?"
"Hot coppers this morning? My dear boy, no! Why, I lead as quiet a
life as a curate now."
"All the better for you."
Sir Hilton sighed again.
"Then it's true?" said the visitor, smiling.
"What's true? What have you been hearing? Did Lady Tilborough say--"
"Oh, nothing; only a bit of chaff about you."
"Tell me what the widow said."
"Oh, it was all good humouredly--a bit of her fun. You know what she
is--wouldn't hurt the feelings of a fly."
"Yes, yes, I know; but she has been laughing at me. She has--"
"Nonsense--nonsense! Don't make your coat rough, old man. She only
said it was a pity."
"What was a pity?"
"That dear old Hilt should be ridden with his curb chain so tight--by
George! I didn't know how hungry I was."
"Yes," said Sir Hilton, sadly; "the curb is a bit too tight sometimes,
Jack; but someone means well, and she has a right to be a bit firm. I
always was a fool over money matters."
"Nonsense, old fellow! You were a prince, only you were unlucky, and
were obliged to make a clear up; but you're all right again now."
"Yes," said the baronet, "I'm all right again now." But his voice
sounded very doleful.
"It was thirty thou' a-year, wasn't it--I mean, isn't it?"
Sir Hilton nodded.
"She got the title and you got the tin. Quid pro quo!"
Sir Hilton nodded again, and then made a desperate effort to turn the
conversation back upon his friend.
"Lady Lisle has always taken an interest in parish matters and the poor,
and it pleases her. She would not, of course, like me to take an
interest now in racing affairs."
"Of course not--of course not, my dear boy," said the visitor, helping
himself to the marmalade left by Sydney.
"But what about you?"
"Me? Oh, I'm doing capitally," was the reply, rather thickly uttered.
"Nonsense! I mean that affair. How do matters go with the widow?"
"Hah!" sighed the visitor, laying down his knife.
"Hallo! Not off, is it, old chap?"
"No, not off, Hilt, but I'm just where I was. Like the farmer over the
claret, I don't seem to get no furder."
"Well, you must be a duffer, Jack."
"I suppose I am, old man. Pluck enough in some things, but I'm afraid
of her."
"But haven't you spoken?"
"No; I daren't, for fear she should laugh at me, and the whole affair be
quite off."
"I say, Jack, you're dead hit."
"I am, old man--dead. Bless her! She's an angel! But I'm afraid,
after her experience with that old ruffian Tilborough, she has made up
her mind never to run in double harness again."
"Nonsense! Pluck up, old fellow; a woman likes a man to be manly, and
if she accepted you--"
"Ah, _if_ Hilt, _if_."
"She would, or I don't know her. I should like to see it come off, for
there wouldn't be a better matched pair in England. Go in and win."
"Well, hang me if I don't! I've been playing a shilly-shally waiting
game, and now I'll come to the point. But I say, what's this about you
in the papers--election news?"
"Oh, it's the wife's wish. She won't rest till I have `M.P.' at the end
of my name."
"Good thing too. You're getting mossy here. Go into Parliament, and it
will soon be rubbed off. The poor dear lady is spoiling you. Too much
apron-string. She's stopped your racing and hunting, but you must do
something. Go in and win your seat."
"I don't care much about it."
"More fool you! Think of the chances it will give you of a little life.
The House--there you are; an excuse for everything not quite in running
order with the ideas of such a lady as madam. Club? Best in London.
Late hours? Sitting till two, three, four, or milk-time."
"Yes; I never gave that a thought."
"An excuse for everything, dear boy, and your wife proud of you. Oh, I
should enter for those stakes, certainly. It will cost you something,
though."
"I suppose so; but, between ourselves, Lady Lisle has placed four thou'
to my account for election expenses."
"Brave little woman! The widow's all wrong."
"How! Why? What do you mean?"
"She said her ladyship kept the chequebook, and saw to the estate
herself, only allowing you a little pocket-money when you were a good
boy."
"Tell Lady Tilborough to mind her own business, Jack," said the baronet,
tartly.
"My dear Hilt, I'd share my last fiver with you, or I'd back any of your
paper with pleasure; but I'll be hanged if I'll do that I say, though,
come on to the race to-day."
Sir Hilton shook his head.
"Nonsense! Think of it. Your old filly, La Sylphide, first favourite.
I saw her a week ago. Lovely! Lady Tilborough told me she wouldn't
take four times as much for her as she gave at your sale."
"The beautiful gazelle-eyed creature!" sighed Sir Hilton.
"That she is."
"Who is up?" said Sir Hilton.
"Josh Rowle, your old jock, of course. The widow told me that she
wouldn't--I mean the mare--let anyone else go near her."
"Just like her, Jack. She had a temper, but she was like a kitten with
me. Came ambling up the paddock when I whistled, and she'd rub her head
against me for all the world like a cat, and fetch bits of carrot out of
my pocket, or whinny for sugar. Ah! those were dear old days. Yes,
she'll pull it off for certain."
"Come and see her run."
"I couldn't, old man. I couldn't bear it. No, I'm entered for the
House of Commons. Lady Lisle says I'm to be a--a Minister some day."
"Bravo! Be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and keep the purse. But I say,
do come. You must be hungry for a race after fasting so long."
"I am, Jack, I am."
"Come, then."
"No; don't ask me," said the baronet; "my racing days are over."
"And you've burnt your jockey cap and silk, the scarlet and blue stripe
of the finest gentleman-rider of his day?"
"By Jove! no. I keep them, leathers, boots, whip, and all, in a
locked-up drawer. My man, Mark, takes them out to set them up and
worship sometimes."
"Then you really won't come?"
"No, Jack, I can't. It would break my wife's heart if I did, and she
really is very fond of me."
"Very well; I won't press you, old man. But, I say, you think La
Sylphide will win?"
"It's a dead cert. Have you anything on?"
"All I'm worth, dear boy. Have you?"
"I? Nonsense! I haven't made a bet these two years."
"Then now's your time."
"No, no: I've done with that sort of thing."
"But, personally, you are not flush of money, are you?"
"I? Never was so short in my life."