her broken parasol and shouted, 'He won!' Esther looked at William. He leaned over the back seat and shouted, 'He won!' She had forgotten all about late dinner. What would Mrs. Latch say? On such a day as this she would say nothing.
NEARLY everything came down untouched. The Barfields had been eating and drinking almost all day on the course, and Esther had finished washing up before nine. But if little was eaten upstairs, plenty was eaten downstairs; the mutton was finished in a trice, and Mrs. Latch had to fetch from the larder what remained of a beefsteak pudding. Even then they were not satisfied, and fine inroads were made into a new piece of cheese. Beer, according to orders, was served without limit, and four bottles of port were sent down so that the health of the horse might be adequately drunk.
While assuaging their hunger the men had exchanged many remarks regarding the Demon's bad ending, how nearly he had thrown the race away; and the meal being now over, and there being nothing to do but to sit and talk, Mr. Leopold, encouraged by William, entered on an elaborate and technical account of the race. The women listened, playing with a rind of cheese, glancing at the cheese itself, wondering if they could manage another slice, and the men sipping their port wine, puffing at their pipes, William listening most greedily, enjoying each sporting term, and reminding Mr. Leopold of some detail ingeniously whenever he seemed disposed to shorten his narrative. The criticism of the Demon's horsemanship took a long while, for by a variety of suggestive remarks William led Mr. Leopold into reminiscences of the skill of certain famous jockeys in the first half of the century. These digressions wearied Sarah and Grover, and their thoughts wandered to the dresses that