If you
had told me all yer knowed I might 'ave gone 'alf a quid--fifteen pun to
'alf a quid! as much as I'd earn in three months slaving eight and ten
hours a day, paint-pot on 'and about them blooming engines. Well, there's
no use crying over what's done--sich a chance won't come again, but
something else may. What are they going to do with the 'orse this
autumn--did yer 'ear that?"
"I think I 'eard that he was entered for the Cambridgeshire, but if I
remember rightly, Mr. Leopold--that's the butler, not his real name, but
what we call him--"
"Ah, yes; I know; after the Baron. Now what do 'e say? I reckon 'e knows.
I should like to 'ave 'alf-an-hour's talk with your Mr. Leopold. What do
'e say? For what 'e says, unless I'm pretty well mistaken, is worth
listening to. A man wouldn't be a-wasting 'is time in listening to 'im.
What do 'e say?"
"Mr. Leopold never says much. He's the only one the Gaffer ever confides
in. 'Tis said they are as thick as thieves, so they say. Mr. Leopold was
his confidential servant when the Gaffer--that's the squire--was a
bachelor."
Jim chuckled. "Yes, I think I know what kind of man your Mr. Leopold is
like. But what did 'e say about the Cambridgeshire?"
"He only laughed a little once, and said he didn't think the 'orse would
do much good in the autumn races--no, not races, that isn't the word.
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