"That's Silver Braid, the brown horse, the one that the Demon is riding; the chestnut is Bayleaf, Ginger is riding him: he won the City and Suburban. Oh, we did have a fine time then, for we all had a bit on. The betting was twenty to one, and I won twelve and six pence. Grover won thirty shillings. They say that John--that's the butler--won a little fortune; but he is so close no one knows what he has on. Cook wouldn't have anything on; she says that betting is the curse of servants--you know what is said, that it was through betting that Mrs. Latch's husband got into trouble. He was steward here, you know, in the late squire's time." Then Margaret told all she had heard on the subject. The late Mr. Latch had been a confidential steward, and large sums of money were constantly passing through his hands for which he was never asked for any exact account. Contrary to all expectation, Marksman was beaten for the Chester Cup, and the squire's property was placed under the charge of a receiver. Under the new management things were gone into more closely, and it was then discovered that Mr. Latch's accounts were incapable of satisfactory explanation. The defeat of Marksman had hit Mr. Latch as hard as it had hit the squire, and to pay his debts of honour he had to take from the money placed in his charge, confidently hoping to return it in a few months. The squire's misfortunes anticipated the realization of his intentions; proceedings were threatened, but were withdrawn when Mrs. Latch came forward with all her savings and volunteered to forego her wages for a term of years. Old Latch died soon after, some lucky bets set the squire on his legs again, the matter was half forgotten, and in the next generation it became the legend of the Latch family. But to Mrs. Latch it was an incurable grief, and to remove her son from influences which, in her opinion, had caused his father's death, Mrs. Latch had always refused Mr. Barfield's offers to do something for William. It was against her will that he had been taught to ride; but to her great joy he soon grew out of all possibility of becoming a jockey. She had then placed him in an office in Brighton; but the young man's height and shape marked him out for livery, and Mrs. Latch was pained when Mr. Barfield proposed it. "Why cannot they leave me my son?" she cried; for it seemed to her that in that hateful cloth, buttons and cockade, he would be no more her son, and she could not forget what the Latches had been long ago. "I believe there's going to be a trial this morning," said Margaret; "Silver Braid was stripped--you noticed that--and Ginger always rides in the trials." "I don't know what a trial is," said Esther. "They are not carriage-horses, are they? They look too slight." "Carriage-horses, you ninny! Where have you been to all this while--can't you see that they are race-horses?" Esther hung down her head and murmured something which Margaret didn't catch.