name like some one trying to stifle a sneeze in church; they both seem to
have a lot of support."

"It's the most open Derby there's been for years," said Odo.

"It's simply no good trying to pick the winner on form," said Bertie;
"one must just trust to luck and inspiration."

"The question is whether to trust to one's own inspiration, or somebody
else's. _Sporting Swank_ gives Count Palatine to win, and Le Five
O'Clock for a place."

"Count Palatine--that adds another to our list of perplexities. Good
morning, Sir Lulworth; have you a fancy for the Derby by any chance?"

"I don't usually take much interest in turf matters," said Sir Lulworth,
who had just made his appearance, "but I always like to have a bet on the
Guineas and the Derby. This year, I confess, it's rather difficult to
pick out anything that seems markedly better than anything else. What do
you think of Snow Bunting?"

"Snow Bunting?" said Odo, with a groan, "there's another of them. Surely,
Snow Bunting has no earthly chance?"

"My housekeeper's nephew, who is a shoeing-smith in the mounted section
of the Church Lads' Brigade, and an authority on horseflesh, expects him
to be among the first three."

"The nephews of housekeepers are invariably optimists," said Bertie;
"it's a kind of natural reaction against the professional pessimism of