I wish he'd take his custom elsewhere. He
gives me the solid hump, he do."
"What sort of man should you say he was? 'as he been a servant, should you
say?" asked old John.
"I can't tell you what he is. Always new suit of clothes and a hie-glass.
Whenever I see that 'ere hie-glass and that brown beard my heart goes down
in my boots. When he don't bet he takes no notice, walks past with a vague
look on his face, as if he didn't see the people, and he don't care that
for the 'orses. Knowing he don't mean no business, I cries to him, 'The
best price, Mr. Buff; two to one on the field, ten to one bar two or
three.' He just catches his hie-glass tighter in eye and looks at me,
smiles, shakes his head, and goes on. He is a warm 'un; he is just about
as 'ot as they make 'em."
"What I can't make out," said Journeyman, "is why he bets on the course.
You say he don't know nothing about horses. Why don't he remain at 'ome
and save the exes?"
"I've thought of all that," said William, "and can't make no more out of
it than you can yerselves. All we know is that, divided up between five or
six of us, Buff costs not far short of six 'undred a year."
At that moment a small blond man came into the bar. Esther knew him at
once. It was Ginger. He had hardly changed at all--a little sallower, a
little dryer, a trifle less like a gentleman.
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