‘I beg your pardon, Silverbridge,’ said the Major, entering the room, ‘but I was looking for Longstaff.’

‘He isn’t here,’ said Silverbridge, who did not wish to be interrupted by his racing friend.

‘Your father, I believe?’ said Tifto.  He was red in the face but was in other respects perhaps improved in appearance by his liquor.  In his more sober moments he was not always able to assume that appearance of equality with his companions which it was the ambition of his soul to achieve.  But a second glass of whisky-and-water would always enable him to cock his tail and bark before the company with all the courage of my lady’s pug.  ’Would you do me the great honour to introduce me to his Grace?’

Silverbridge was not prone to turn his back upon a friend because he was low in the world.  He had begun to understand that he had made a mistake by connecting himself with the Major, but at the club he always defended his partner.  Though he not infrequently found himself obliged to snub the Major himself, he always countenanced the little Master of the Hounds, and was true to his own idea of ‘standing to a fellow’.  Nevertheless he did not wish to introduce his friend to his father.  The Duke saw it all at a glance, and felt that the introduction should be made.  ‘Perhaps,’ said he, getting up from his chair, ‘this is Major Tifto.’

‘Yes;—­my Lord Duke.  I am Major Tifto.’

The Duke bowed graciously.  ’My father and I were engaged about private matters.’

‘I beg ten thousand pardons,’ exclaimed the Major.  ’I did not intend to intrude.’

‘I think we had done,’ said the Duke.  ’Pray sit down, Major Tifto.’  The Major sat down.  ’Though now I bethink myself, I have to beg your pardon;—­that I a stranger should ask you to sit down in your own club.’

‘Don’t mention it, my Lord Duke.’

‘I am so unused to clubs, that I forgot where I was.’

’Quite so, my Lord Duke.  I hope you think that Silverbridge is looking well?’

‘Yes;—­yes.  I think so.’  Silverbridge bit his lips, and turned his face away to the door.

’We didn’t make a very good thing of our Derby nag the other day.  Perhaps your Grace has heard all that?’

’I did hear that the horse in which you are both interested had failed to win the race.’

’Yes, he did.  The Prime Minister, we call him, your Grace,—­out of compliment to a certain Ministry which I wish was going on today instead of the seedy lot we’ve got in.  I think, my Lord Duke, that any one you ask may tell you that I know what running is.  Well;—­I can assure you,—­your Grace, that is,—­that since I’ve seen ’orses I’ve never seen a ’orse fitter than him.  When he got his canter that morning, it was nearly even betting.  Not that I or Silverbridge were fools enough to put on anything at any rate.  But I never saw a ’orse so bad ridden.  I don’t mean to say anything, my Lord Duke, against the man.  But if that fellow hadn’t been squared, or else wasn’t drunk, or else off his head, that ’orse must have won,—­my Lord Duke.’