their aunts."

"We don't seem to get much further in our search for the probable
winner," said Mrs. de Claux; "the more I listen to you experts the more
hopelessly befogged I get."

"It's all very well to blame us," said Bertie to his hostess; "you
haven't produced anything in the way of an inspiration."

"My inspiration consisted in asking you down for Derby week," retorted
Mrs. de Claux; "I thought you and Odo between you might throw some light
on the question of the moment."

Further recriminations were cut short by the arrival of Lola Pevensey,
who floated into the room with an air of gracious apology.

"So sorry to be so late," she observed, making a rapid tour of inspection
of the breakfast dishes.

"Did you have a good night?" asked her hostess with perfunctory
solicitude.

"Quite, thank you," said Lola; "I dreamt a most remarkable dream."

A flutter, indicative of general boredom; went round the table. Other
people's dreams are about as universally interesting as accounts of other
people's gardens, or chickens, or children.

"I dreamt about the winner of the Derby," said Lola.