Mrs. Radigan: Her Biography, with that of Miss Pearl Veal, and the Memoirs of J. Madison MudisonLloyd, Nelson
General
Mrs. Radigan: Her Biography, with that of Miss Pearl Veal, and the Memoirs of J. Madison Mudison
Lloyd, Nelson
New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Satire; Social classes -- Fiction; Women -- Conduct of life -- Fiction
An absurd question! But patiently, as simply as I could, I explained
to her that while a few persons might watch horses race just to see
which was the fastest, the great majority of the public demanded the
additional interest given by an opportunity to make ten dollars by
risking one. It cost a great deal to support the tracks and stables,
and no company of philanthropists living would dare to go into such a
venture without being sure of enough gate-receipts to pay expenses,
and twenty per cent. on the money invested. The betting-ring was,
therefore, a necessity if we were to have the glorious sport at all.
Mrs. Underbunk was only about half satisfied, but she is a very
strict little soul in her theories, and I saw that it was useless to
argue with her. That she had come at all was a surprise to me, but
Evelyn Garish asked her up to their Westchester house to spend a few
days, and help her with the bazaar they are to have at Lazydays, to
secure money for the work of St. Simon's parish. She suggested that
we all meet at the track yesterday, as her filly Umbrella was to run
in the May Handicap and would be a sure thing at long odds, so I
agreed to take Gladys up in my car. We were to have had luncheon at
the club-house with the Garishes and their party, which included the
Stynes, the Duffs, and the Plumstones, but as luck would have it a
policeman held me up for over-speeding on Seventh Avenue, and took us
to the police-station. What a nuisance those fellows are! He said we
were running at twenty-five miles an hour, though my chauffeur and I
both swore that our machine could not do better than eight, under any
circumstances. Fortunately, the police-court was still in session
nearby, and I was able to get away after giving cash bail to appear
next Wednesday. The judge was a very decent fellow and apologized for
holding me. He said it was the law, to which I retorted emphatically
that the law should be changed, as I was getting thoroughly tired
of being arrested every time I took out my car. For fear of another
interruption by the police I had to proceed very slowly, and after we
reached the track we had hardly more than enough time to swallow a bite
of luncheon before the call for the first race.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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