SIXTY YEARS ON THE TURF 



blows upon Oldaker's head, back, and shoulders, 

 until Salt interfered. 



" Oldaker," he said, " you've asked for this. This 

 is Fordham." 



" Beg my pardon ! " cried Fordham ; and Oldaker 

 immediately apologised. But Fordham was mad 

 with rage. " Beg it again, you scoundrel ! " And 

 up went the whip afresh. 



Seeing how^ matters were, Sait said, " Mr. Oldaker, 

 we're going to Carshalton. You had better go the 

 other way." 



" Don't speak to me," said Fordham, when Oldaker 

 had gone. " But don't leave me. I'm cruelly hurt." 



The horses jogged along at funereal pace; and, in 

 the end, Sait rode ahead to explain the cause of the 

 delay. We were all very sorry, and a sadder man 

 than Fordham was when he appeared I do not wish 

 to see. '* George," I said, "we've been waiting 

 dinner for you." 



"Thank you, Mr. Hodgman, I don't want any 

 dinner. I'm too upset." 



Nor would he come into the room ; but sat on the 



stairs, and cried. Later he journeyed to London, 



and next day, quite himself, rode Suburban to 



victory in the South- Western Stakes. I know 



that Custance tells the tale differently. But the 



above is the true story. 



173 M 



