"
"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.
BERTIE'S CHRISTMAS EVE
It was Christmas Eve, and the family circle of Luke Steffink, Esq., was
aglow with the amiability and random mirth which the occasion demanded. A
long and lavish dinner had been partaken of, waits had been round and
sung carols; the house-party had regaled itself with more caroling on its
own account, and there had been romping which, even in a pulpit
reference, could not have been condemned as ragging.
Pages:
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91