“I’m for commanding a ’oss light in the mouth, riding him as with a silken rein as fine as a hair, and which you feel afraid to break. My lord, who was a yokel in the management of ’osses, though he was good at a-getting money on ’em, as you shall hear presently, always gave his lads instructions to hold their ’osses tight in racing. “Now, if a ’oss bears on his rein in running it makes him open his mouth, and pulls his head up, which frets him, and causes him to jump with his forelegs open, and run stag-necked, locks his wind, and soon tires him. ’Osses that run sprawling, with a part of the rider’s weight in their mouth, can never win a race if at all matched. I, however, likes to keep a ’oss together with a good bridle hand, being careful not to pull on the rein, or he can’t rise to the fence when he gets up to it. “Arter a deal of argufying for sometime, his lordship gave in, and told me I had better ride as I liked. “Well, I did have my own way, and the consequence was that I won four races with Custard, and a rare swag of money did my lord make. “He was entered for the fifth race. Well, you must know that a few days afore this came off a great bull-headed man, who was a bruiser by profession, and a scoundrel by nature, come and ses to me――‘Look here, Will, can’t Custard and you lose the race that’s coming off? It’s all right; you are to lose it――so his lordship says.’ “‘Oh, indeed; that’s to be the little game――is it?’ says I. ‘I can’t give you an answer at present, my noble.’ “So I goes to my lord, and blows the pumping, and all about the losing game. “‘Well,’ said my master, ‘whatever the gentleman’――he meant, of course, the bruiser――‘tells you to do you must consider as my orders. You will be well paid.’ I didn’t like the task, but there was no help for it, I was bound to obey. But Custard didn’t seem to see it, and he would have run the race; so at the last leap but one I tumbled off and left him to do as he liked, and of course he lost it.” “What a dirty piece of business!” said the man by the fireplace. “Disgraceful!” exclaimed Mr. Green. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself.” “It wasn’t nice,” said the gipsy, “and went against the grain. When I was limping across the field as if I was hurt, didn’t my lord swear at me like a good un afore everybody? He called me every name he could think of, but I bore it all like a lamb. “I always thought my lord looked shy at me after this, and never treated me on the same footing as before. “The truth is, if you once make yourself a rascal to serve a rich man he never likes to see you under his nose any more.