Close, close, to the tender womanly heart, close to the faithful breast--closer, closer, closer! "Phoebe!" screamed Fanny, flying down the stairs. "Oh, Phoebe! Phoebe! Mother, give her to me! give her to me!" And here was 'Melia Jane, in the most outrageous of costumes, quite scandalous, indeed, running down to the kitchen to light the fire. "I will tell you all to-morrow," said Tom Barley. "Nobody must know she is here. Good-night." "Tom!" murmured Phoebe. "Yes, Miss Phoebe?" "Good-night, Tom." "Good-night, miss." He took the thin white hand she held out to him. She drew his face to hers and kissed him. "Thank you, Tom! Oh, thank you!" The tender light of the coming day shone upon his tear-stained face as he walked home to his humble bed. CHAPTER XIX. A VISIT TO DONCASTER AND ITS RESULTS. The "system" which Jeremiah Pamflett, after infinite patience, had discovered of winning large sums of money upon the turf did not turn out the absolute certainty which his calculations upon paper had foreshadowed. At first all went well; he commenced with small amounts, and a peculiar run of wins in a certain direction favoured him. For three or four weeks his good fortune continued; every day's results showed a balance on the right, his lowest daily win being £3, his highest £62. At the end of that time he was the richer by £280. So far, so good. He did not think so; he was mad with himself for winning so little. That was because he had ventured so little. "What an idiot I am!" he groaned, in the solitude of his bedchamber. "What an idiot! what an idiot! Had I multiplied my stakes by fifty I should have won £14,000. Where are my brains? Where is my pluck? Without courage, no one who was not born to riches has ever made a great fortune. And here am I wasting the precious time and letting my opportunities slip! £14,000 in four weeks. Forty racing weeks a year, £140,000. Five years of that, £7,000,000. Oh, Lord! _seven million pounds!_ Seven millions! I could double it while I was making it. FOURTEEN MILLION POUNDS! What could I do with fourteen millions? What _could_ I do?" he screamed. "What couldn't I do? I could turn the world topsy-turvy! I could become anything I liked!--a Prince--a King--an Emperor! And all in five years from to-day--with a long life before me to enjoy my money! I'll do it--I'll do it--I'll do it!" These contemplations turned his head. He resolved to dash in and become a millionaire. The race-courses upon which his initial trials were made were situated at an easy distance from London--Kempton Park, Sandown, Epsom, Croydon, Ascot, Hampton, Windsor, and other such meetings, from which, when the last race was run, he could reach Miser Farebrother's office at seven or eight o'clock in the evening. "I'm going to commence my system in real earnest," said Jeremiah to Captain Ablewhite. "No more shillyshallying." "Brave boy!" replied Captain Ablewhite admiringly. "Where?"