“My dear fellow, you surely can't think it makes any matter between _us_. I hope you know that it is entirely a question for your own convenience. No man has more experience of what it is to be 'hit hard,' as they say. When I first came out, I got it. By Jove! did n't I get it, and at both sides of the head too. It was Mopus's year, when the Yorkshire Lass ran a dead heat with Skyrocket for the Diddlesworth. I stood seventeen to one, in thousands! think of that,--seventeen thousand pounds to one against the filly. It was thought so good a thing that Naylor--old Jerry, as they used to call him--offered me a clean thousand to let him take half the wager. But these are old stories now, and they only bore you; in fact, it was just to show you that every man has his turn--” “I own frankly,” broke in Heathcote, “I am far too full of selfish cares to take a proper interest in your story. Just tell me if these figures are correct?” And he turned to look out for a particular page in a small book. “Confound figures! I wish they never were invented. If one only thinks of all the hearty fellows they 've set by the ears, the close friendships they have severed, the strong attachments they have broken, I declare one would be justified in saying it was the devil himself invented arithmetic.” “I wish he 'd have made it easier when he was about it,” said Heathcote. “Excellent, by Jove!--how good! 'Made it easier'--capital!” cried O'Shea, laughing with a boisterous jollity that made the room ring. “I hope I 'll not forget that. I must book that _mot_ of yours.” Heathcote grew crimson with shame, and, in an angry impulse, pitched his cigar into the fire. “That's right,” broke in O'Shea; “these are far better smoking than your cheroots; these are Hudson's 'Grand Viziers,' made especially for Abba Pasha's own smoking.” Heathcote declined coldly, and continued his search through his note- book. “It was odd enough,” said O'Shea, “just as you came in I was balancing in my own mind whether I 'd go over to the Villa, or write to you.” “Write to me!” said the other, reddening. “Don't be scared; it was not to dun you. No; I was meditating whether it was quite fair of me to take that trap and the nags. _You_ like that sort of thing; it suits you too. Now, I 'm sobering down into the period of Park phaetons and George the Fourths: a low step to get in, and a deep, well-cushioned seat, with plenty of leg room; that's more my style. As Holditch says, 'The O'Shea wants an armchair upon C springs and Collinge's patent' Free and easy that, from a rascally coachmaker, eh?” “I don't want the horses. I have no use for them. I 'm not quite clear whether you valued the whole thing at two hundred and fifty or three hundred and fifty?” “We said, two fifty,” replied O'Shea, in his silkiest of tones. “Be it so,” muttered Heathcote; “I gave two hundred for the chestnut horse at Tattersall's.” “He was dear,--too dear,” was the dry reply.