French Colt.

"So provoking to have to split out bets," said Mrs. de Claux, as her
guests gathered in the hall later in the day, waiting for the result of
the race.

"I did my best for you," said Lola, feeling that she was not getting her
due share of gratitude; "I told you what I had seen in my dreams, a brown
horse, called Bread and Butter, winning easily from all the rest."

"What?" screamed Bertie, jumping up from his sea, "a _brown_ horse!
Miserable woman, you never said a word about it's being a brown horse."

"Didn't I?" faltered Lola; "I thought I told you it was a brown horse. It
was certainly brown in both dreams. But I don't see what the colour has
got to do with it. Nursery Tea and Le Five O'Clock are both chestnuts."

"Merciful Heaven! Doesn't brown bread and butter with a sprinkling of
lemon in the colours suggest anything to you?" raged Bertie.

A slow, cumulative groan broke from the assembly as the meaning of his
words gradually dawned on his hearers.

For the second time that day Lola retired to the seclusion of her room;
she could not face the universal looks of reproach directed at her when
Whitebait was announced winner at the comfortable price of fourteen to
one.