Boodle was playing pool at the Rag, and Archie joined him; but pool is a game which hardly admits of confidential intercourse as to proposed wives, and Archie was obliged to remain quiet on that subject all the afternoon. He cunningly, however, lost a little money to Boodle, for Boodle liked to win—and engaged himself to dine at the same table with his friend. Their dinner they ate almost in silence—unless when they abused the cook, or made to each other some pithy suggestion as to the expediency of this or that delicacy—bearing always steadily in view the cost as well as desirability of the viands. Boodle had no shame in not having this or that because it was dear. To dine with the utmost luxury at the smallest expense was a proficiency belonging to him, and of which he was very proud.
But after a while the cloth was gone, and the heads of the two men were brought near together over the small table. Boodle did not speak a word till his brother captain had told his story, had pointed out all the advantages to be gained, explained in what peculiar way the course lay open to himself, and made the whole thing clear to his friend’s eye.
“They say she’s been a little queer, don’t they?” said the friendly counsellor.
“Of course people talk, you know.”
“Talk, yes; they’re talking a doosed sight, I should say. There’s no mistake about the money, I suppose?”
“Oh, none,” said Archie, shaking his head vigorously. “Hugh managed all that for her, so I know it.”
“She don’t lose any of it because she enters herself for running again, does she?”
“Not a shilling. That’s the beauty of it.”
“Was you ever sweet on her before?”
“What! before Ongar took her? O laws, no. She hadn’t a rap, you know;—and knew how to spend money as well as any girl in London.”
“It’s all to begin then, Clavvy; all the uphill work to be done?”
“Well, yes; I don’t know about uphill, Doodles. What do you mean by uphill?”
“I mean that seven thousand a year ain’t usually to be picked up merely by trotting easy along the flat. And this sort of work is very uphill generally, I take it;—unless, you know, a fellow has a fancy for it. If a fellow is really sweet on a girl, he likes it, I suppose.”
“She’s a doosed handsome woman, you know, Doodles.”
“I don’t know anything about it, except that I suppose Ongar wouldn’t have taken her if she hadn’t stood well on her pasterns, and had some breeding about her. I never thought much of her sister—your brother’s wife, you know—that is in the way of looks. No doubt she runs straight, and that’s a great thing. She won’t go the wrong side of the post.”
“As for running straight, let me alone for that.”
“Well, now, Clavvy, I’ll tell you what my ideas are. When a man’s trying a young filly, his hands can’t be too light. A touch too much will bring her on her haunches, or throw her out of her step. She should hardly feel the iron in her mouth. That’s the sort of work which requires a man to know well what he’s about. But when I’ve got to do with a trained mare, I always choose that she shall know that I’m there! Do you understand me?”
“Yes; I understand you, Doodles.”
“I always choose that she shall know that I’m there.” And Captain Boodle, as he repeated these manly words with a firm voice, put out his hands as though he were handling the horse’s rein. “Their mouths are never so fine then, and they generally want to be brought up to the bit, d’ye see?—up to the bit. When a mare has been trained to her work, and knows what she’s at in her running, she’s all the better for feeling a fellow’s hands as she’s going. She likes it rather. It gives her confidence, and makes her know where she is. And look here, Clavvy, when she comes to her fences, give her her head; but steady her first, and make her know that you’re there. Damme; whatever you do, let her know that you’re there. There’s nothing like it. She’ll think all the more of the fellow that’s piloting her. And look here, Clavvy; ride her with spurs. Always ride a trained mare with spurs. Let her know that they’re on; and if she tries to get her head, give ’em her. Yes, by George, give ’em her.” And Captain Boodle in his energy twisted himself in his chair, and brought his heel round, so that it could be seen by Archie. Then he produced a sharp click with his tongue, and made the peculiar jerk with the muscle of his legs, whereby he was accustomed to evoke the agility of his horses. After that he looked triumphantly at his friend. “Give ’em her, Clavvy, and she’ll like you the better for it. She’ll know then that you mean it.”
It was thus that Captain Boodle instructed his friend Archie Clavering how to woo Lady Ongar; and Archie, as he listened to his friend’s words of wisdom, felt that he had learned a great deal. “That’s the way I’ll do it, Doodles,” he said, “and upon my word I’m very much obliged to you.”
“That’s the way, you may depend on it. Let her know that you’re there.—Let her know that you’re there. She’s done the filly work before, you see; and it’s no good trying that again.”
Captain Clavering really believed that he had learned a good deal, and that he now knew the way to set about the work before him. What sort of spurs he was to use, and how he was to put them on, I don’t think he did know; but that was a detail as to
