"Look here," said William, getting between the women; "this evening isn't
one for fighting; we have all won our little bit, and ought to be
thankful. The only difference between you is two shillings, that were to
have gone to the third horse if anyone had drawn him. Mr. Leopold says it
ought to be divided; you, Sarah, won't accept his decision. We have
offered to write to the _Sportsman_, and Esther has offered to give up her
claim. Now, in the name of God, tell us what do you want?"
She raised some wholly irrelevant issue, and after a protracted argument
with William, largely composed of insulting remarks, she declared that she
wasn't going to take the two shillings, nor yet one of them; let them give
her the three she had won--that was all she wanted. William looked at her,
shrugged his shoulders, and, after declaring that it was his conviction
that women wasn't intended to have nothing to do with horse-racing, he
took up his pipe and tobacco-pouch.
"Good-night, ladies, I have had enough of you for to-night; I am going to
finish my smoke in the pantry. Don't scratch all your 'air out; leave
enough for me to put into a locket."
When the pantry door was shut, and the men had smoked some moments in
silence, William said--
"Do you think he has any chance of winning the Chesterfield Cup?"
"He'll win in a canter if he'll only run straight.
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