Bertram Atkey

“ Cyril looked very much the man of the world.
"Well, certainly one can always get a thrill at the major's," he confessed.
"Ah, but don't you lose a great deal? I—I—don't like to think of you losing so heavily," she sighed.
"That's simply toppin' of you, dear Miss Winnie—oh, toppin'! But don't worry. I can afford to lose what I lose, you know."
Winnie nodded.
"Yes, I know you are awfully rich. Have you lost very much during the last week at the Mountardens'? Men are so bold and reckless!"
Cyril hesitated. ”

“ Winnie liked George H. Jay—in the sense that she did not dislike him—but she saw no reason to admit him more than about a sixteenth of an inch into her secrets, and it was to the glimpse of the envelope and the red sealing wax that she had trusted to clinch the doubts of Major Mountarden. Mr. Jay slowly tore up the blank sheet.
"Queer!" he mused. "Queer, that!" He shrugged his shoulders. "Impulsive as a bird—probably tore a sheet in two and put the wrong half in the envelope. Yes, impulsive as a kitten—and prettier." He scowled at the Maison Mountarden. ”

“ The major fired off a playful reminder that he still had an eagle eye on Lullaby and must enlist Cyril's powers of persuasion in his aid, and Mrs. Mountarden had so friendly a word for Cyril that she had evidently forgiven his defection from her. It was all very jolly—so free, so homelike, so unwolfy.
"Bring Cyril back to dine, darling," said Mrs. Mountarden. "There will be one or two people in—enough for some bridge."
Winnie promised. The Mountardens, she had long ago found, were never without dinner guests who, as the evening wore on, became bridge or roulette or baccarat battlers. ”

“ So precisely as the tiger tamer with the whip lashes the impulse to spring out of his pupil's mind, the girl lashed the impulse of violence out of her tiger.
"Control yourself, major," she said. "It would take perhaps one minute to guide all these people to see the surprise of their lives. Everyone is interested in electric puzzles, especially when they are fixed under roulette wheels. I expect that device has kept you in luxury for a long time, but now you are discovered, do you prefer to pay me back Cyril's four thousand, or will you be exposed?" ”

“ But he was quite grave when he answered.
"Oh, not at all, Miss Winnie! You see, Lullaby is a little aristocrat. Her breeding makes her worth a fair, sum. In fact, you ought to be able to make a quite useful exchange, if you can find a man who is reckless enough to give you a reliable three-year-old for a speculative, well-bred yearling. Lots of men love to gamble in yearlings. They are rather foolish men, between you and me. They nearly always lose, but it's a weakness—a foible. I ought to know"—the major smiled ruefully—"for, you see, I am one of those silly fellows." ”

“ When a few months before he had inherited his father's approximately three-quarter-million estate he had inherited the big racing stud into which something like another quarter million had been sunk by his turf-loving parent. He realized that there were few things he could spare better than a little race horse, for, counting foals, yearlings, horses of racing age, studhorses and brood mares, he possessed something like a hundred. Dimly it occurred to him that Winnie was paying him a pretty compliment, or so he vaguely interpreted it. ”

“ I don't think he will ever snap up a little girl in one bite—unless she is a little silly in her mind! And how could anyone resist accepting a wolf's skin—a small part of it—when the wolf comes gamboling up and implores one to help oneself? If it had been Lord Fasterton, now——"
She looked more serious, for Fasterton was a wolf of different caliber from Cyril Fitzmedley. She would have been less ready to accept a near-two-year-old from Lord Fasterton, ready as that nobleman no doubt would have been to give her one, though possibly not one such as Lullaby. ”

“ But I've heard of options. Daddy used to buy them from a man in the city, but they were awfully unlucky ones."
"Better sell her outright, Miss Winnie. I would advise it. No end of bother, racing—for a lady. I could get you a hundred guineas for the yearling. In fact, I'd pay you that for her myself."
"What a lot of money for a baby horse!" said Winnie. "I'm sure she isn't worth it, except to me."
"Well, you are the only one that matters, you see," the major pointed out rather less confidently.
"It seems unkind, but I wouldn't sell Lullaby for five hundred pounds!" ”

“ Winnie thought quickly. She had played a game of golf with Cyril Fitzmedley two days before—Vivien Foxelen having a headache—and she was pleased and rather surprised that Cyril had been bright enough to find so plausible an accounting for his gift and her acceptance of Lullaby.
"Oh, that! For a moment I did not understand," she said demurely. "Yes, wasn't it lucky? Do you think it was right for me to accept the yearling, major?"
"Why, certainly, dear Miss Winnie! A wager is a wager. Oh, of course! It's rather a pity that she isn't a two-year-old, or even a three-year-old. ”

“ You have come to the right man. Old George H. Jay will always be ready to help you against the wolves that infest this big city," he declared. "I know them—I know what they are." Probably he did—he was one of them. "What would you like me to do, Miss Winnie?"
Winnie gave him a foolscap envelope sealed with a big blob of red sealing wax.
"Would it irritate you, please, Mr. Jay, if I asked you to stand opposite Major Mountarden's house with this envelope just showing out of your pocket—so that I can see it from the house—from half past four to half past five o'clock this afternoon?" ”

“ Jay," said she, leaning out of the taxi. "It was exactly as I feared—in there. But I knew I could rely on you to be ready."
She beamed upon him and passed him a folded note. It was one of the fifties—good pay, but Winnie was never mean. Mr. Jay smiled as he raised his hat. He was not surprised that Major Mountarden desired to pay his attentions to Winnie, though he was not thinking of the kind of attentions that Winnie had meant. He looked after her cab for a moment, then suddenly remembered the envelope of sealed instructions, which he had forgotten to return. He looked at it and hesitated. ”

“ Mr. Dan Harmon smiled at her enthusiasm as a man might smile at a child with her first kitten or a boy with his first pup. They rode out to the great Heath, watched the work of the string and returned together. Winnie tore herself away from Lullaby and breakfasted at the trainer's home. She was so happy that she was radiant. It was all very jolly, indeed, but when presently she rode away Mr. Harmon seemed faintly puzzled.
"There goes the prettiest thing in lady owners I've ever seen," quoth he. "Why, she's but a child! ”

“ It seemed to him, thinking it over, that he had agreed to pay a hundred and five healthy sovereigns for an excessively nebulous, ghostlike and attenuated option indeed. But it was the best he could do—only he caught himself wishing that the child had been a little more sophisticated. He felt that he could have made a better trade with someone a little less obviously just out of the nursery. ”

“ You might sell the filly and invest the proceeds in a useful three-year-old, for instance."
"But what can such a baby horse be worth, please, Major Mountarden?" faltered Winnie. "A yearling isn't worth so much money as an experienced three-year-old racer, is it—any more than a calf is worth as much as a cow?" ”

“ Harmon!"
She turned to Cyril. "Do you like Lullaby for a name—just in memory of our little secret, Sir Cyril?"
"Ah, Miss Winnie, you know I do!" he bleated. "You——"
He broke off sharply as a thinnish, middle-aged lady came in; a pale, well-gowned woman with a manner so icy, remote and faultlessly correct that she was positively awe-inspiring. This was Lady Foxelen, Cyril's future mamma-in-law, for Cyril was firmly betrothed to Vivien Foxelen. "You are home early, Cyril," she said slowly. ”

“ Her voice was like a velvet whip, but one that cut like rawhide. "I think we needn't be enemies because of it." She rose. "You know, I am sure you could be quite nice—nice in your soul, I mean—if you tried. ”

“ I am sure it really isn't necessary to be a wolf in order to get most fun out of life. There now, it's forgotten—finished."
And it was—except for the penalty. Winnie never forgot the penalty. Wolves, even baby wolves, must expect to pay for the luxury of being wolfy—naturally. ”

“ Wonder! Sure, it's the men who wonder half the fairy stories in the world!"
"And it's the women that tell them, Katie," said Dan, and escaped.
But Mr. Harmon was not the only person who believed that Lullaby was a flyer. There were others. Winnie met one of them as she rode through the flowing dawn to Hawkshover. This was Major Mountarden, who, with his extremely smart wife, was a popular member of the Fasterton house party. Winnie had had very little to do with the Mountardens so far, for they were leading lights of the more desperate bridge section ”

“ He doesn't need your pet so badly. He has one beauty, I know—a Projectile colt. Picked him up for a trifle too. They say that if this colt trains on he will be a sensation. But tell me about yourself, Miss Winnie. Are you enjoying yourself here? You have a flat in town, haven't you?"
But here they were interrupted. Bridge had begun in the drawing-room and the boys were going to have some roulette with the major. ”

“ Hungry, he will eat almost anything he can bite. He is not particular as to quality, but he is something of a stickler for quantity. He likes bulk—big mouthfuls. And she did not feel mathematically sure that she and Lullaby were quite a tiger-sized mouthful. ”

“ Cyril gave the necessary instructions, and made way at the telephone for Winnie.
"Is that Mr. Harmon, please? Good afternoon, Mr. Harmon. This is Miss O'Wynn speaking. Thank you for your congratulations. Yes, the little black one with the white stockings; the—is it?—the Moonlady filly—how pretty—mine now, yes. Sir Cyril wishes it—so kind. I beg your pardon, Mr. Harmon? Oh, do you think so? That would be too good to be true. Yes, yes! With you, Mr. Harmon, of course. I could not think of allowing her to be trained by anybody but you. May I come for a little talk to-morrow? ”