‘I gave you what you asked.’

’Yes, you did.  It isn’t often that I take less than I ask.  But the fact is, about horses.  I don’t know whether I shouldn’t do better if I never owned an animal at all but those I want for my own use.  When I am dealing with a man I call a friend, I can’t bear to make money of him.  I don’t think fellows give me all the credit they should do for sticking to them.’  The Major, as he said this, leaned back in his chair, put his hand up to his mustache, and looked sadly away into the vacancy of the room, as though he were meditating sorrowfully on the ingratitude of the world.

‘I suppose it’s all right about Cream Cheese?’ asked the Lord.

‘Well; it ought to be.’  And now the Major spoke like an oracle, leaning forward on the table, uttering his words in a low voice, but very plainly, so that not a syllable might be lost.  ’When you remember how he ran at the Craven with 9st 12lb on him, that it took Archbishop all he knew to beat him with only 9st 2lb, and what the lot at Chester are likely to be, I don’t think that there can be seven to one against him.  I should be very glad to take it off your hands, only the figures are a little too heavy for me.’

‘I suppose Sunflower’ll be the best animal there?’

’Not a doubt of it, if he’s all right, and if his temper will stand.  Think what a course Chester is for an ill-conditioned brute like that!  And then he’s the most uncertain horse in training.  There are times he won’t feed.  From what I hear, I shouldn’t wonder if he don’t turn up at all.’

‘Solomon says he’s all right.’

’You won’t get Solomon to take four to one against him, nor yet four and a half.  I suppose you’ll go down my Lord?’

’Well, yes; if there’s nothing else doing just then.  I don’t know how it may be about this electioneering business.  I shall go and smoke upstairs.’

At the Beargarden there were,—­I was going to say, two smoking-rooms; but in truth the house was a smoking-room all over.  It was, however, the custom of those who habitually played cards, to have their cigars and coffee upstairs.  Into this sanctum Major Tifto had not yet been introduced, but now he was taken there under Lord Silverbridge’s wing.  There were already four or five assembled, among whom was Mr Adolphus Longstaff, a young man of about thirty-five years of age, who spent very much of his time at the Beargarden.  ‘Do you know my friend Tifto?’ said the Lord.  ’Tifto, this is Mr Longstaff, whom men within the walls of this asylum sometimes call Dolly.’  Whereupon the Major bowed and smiled graciously.

‘I have heard of Major Tifto,’ said Dolly.

‘Who has not?’ said Lord Nidderdale, another middle-aged young man, who made one of the company.  Again the Major bowed.

’Last season I was always intending to get down to your country and have a day with the Tiftoes,’ said Dolly.  ’Don’t they call your hounds the Tiftoes?’