"Whenever I wants to get a rise out of Ginger I says,
'Ah, we shall never see another gentleman jock who can use the whip at a
finish like the Governor in his best days.'"
Everyone delighted in the pantry, and to make Mr. Leopold comfortable Mr.
Swindles used to bring in the wolf-skin rug that went out with the
carriage, and wrap it round Mr. Leopold's wooden armchair, and the sallow
little man would curl himself up, and, smoking his long clay, discuss the
weights of the next big handicap. If Ginger contradicted him he would go
to the press and extract from its obscurity a package of _Bell's Life_ or
a file of the _Sportsman_.
Mr. Leopold's press! For forty years no one had looked into that press.
Mr. Leopold guarded it from every gaze, but it seemed to be a much-varied
repository from which, if he chose, he could produce almost any trifle
that might be required. It seemed to combine the usefulness of a hardware
shop and a drug store.
The pantry had its etiquette and its discipline. Jockey boys were rarely
admitted, unless with the intention of securing their services for the
cleaning of boots or knives. William was very proud of his right of entry.
For that half-hour in the pantry he would willingly surrender the pleasure
of walking in the drove-way with Sarah. But when Mrs. Latch learnt that he
was there her face darkened, and the noise she then made about the range
with her saucepans was alarming.
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