Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) (115 page)

The
boy
gazed
at
his
uncle
from
those
big,
hot
blue
eyes,
set
rather close
together.
The
uncle
stirred
and
laughed
uneasily.

"Right
you
are,
son!
I'll
keep
your
tip
private.
Daffodil,
eh!
How much
are
you
putting
on
him?"

"All
except
twenty
pounds,"
said
the
boy.
"I
keep
that
in
reserve."

The
uncle
thought
it
a
good
joke.

"You
keep
twenty
pounds
in
reserve,
do
you,
you
young
romancer? What
are
you
betting,
then?"

"I'm
betting
three
hundred,"
said
the
boy
gravely.
"But
it's
between you
and
me,
Uncle
Oscar!
Honour
bright?"

The
uncle
burst
into
a
roar
of
laughter.

"It's
between
you
and
me
all
right,
you
young
Nat
Gould,"
he
said, laughing.
"But
where's
your
three
hundred?"

"Bassett
keeps
it
for
me.
We're
partners."

"You
are,
are
you!
And
what
is
Bassett
putting
on
Daffodil?"

"He
won't
go
quite
as
high
as
I
do,
I
expect.
Perhaps
he'll
go
a hundred
and
fifty."

"What,
pennies?"
laughed
the
uncle.

"Pounds,"
said
the
child,
with
a
surprised
look
at
his
uncle.
"Bassett keeps
a
bigger
reserve
than
I
do."

Between
wonder
and
amusement,
Uncle
Oscar
was
silent.
He
pursued
the
matter
no
further,
but
he
determined
to
take
his
nephew with
him
to
the
Lincoln
races.

"Now,
son,"
he
said,
"I'm
putting
twenty
on
Mirza,
and
I'll
put
five for
you
on
any
horse
you
fancy.
What's
your
pick?"

"Daffodil,
uncle!"

"No,
not
the
fiver
on
Daffodil!"

"I
should
if
it
was
my
own
fiver,"
said
the
child.

"Good!
Good!
Right
you
are!
A
fiver
for
me
and
a
fiver
for
you
on Daffodil."

The
child
had
never
been
to
a
race-meeting
before,
and
his
eyes
were blue
fire.
He
pursed
his
mouth
tight,
and
watched.
A
Frenchman
just in
front
had
put
his
money
on
Lancelot.
Wild
with
excitement,
he flayed
his
arms
up
and
down,
yelling
"Lancelot.'
Lancelot!"
in
his French
accent.

Daffodil
came
in
first,
Lancelot
second,
Mirza
third.
The
child, flushed
and
with
eyes
blazing,
was
curiously
serene.
His
uncle
brought him
five
five-pound
notes:
four
to
one.

"What
am
I
to
do
with
these?"
he
cried,
waving
them
before
the boy's
eyes.

"I
suppose
we'll
talk
to
Bassett,"
said
the
boy.
"I
expect
I
have fifteen
hundred
now:
and
twenty
in
reserve:
and
this
twenty." His
uncle
studied
him
for
some
moments.

"Look
here,
son!"
he
said.
"You're
not
serious
about
Bassett
and that
fifteen
hundred,
are
you?"

"Yes,
I
am.
But
it's
between
you
and
me,
uncle!
Honour
bright!"

"Honour
bright
all
right,
son!
But
I
must
talk
to
Bassett."

"If
you'd
like
to
be
a
partner,
uncle,
with
Bassett
and
me,
we
could all
be
partners.
Only
you'd
have
to
promise,
honour
bright,
uncle,
not to
let
it
go
beyond
us
three.
Bassett
and
I
are
lucky,
and
you
must
be lucky,
because
it
was
your
ten
shillings
I
started
winning
with.
.
.
."