"Of course you do, Sir Hilton; but one glass o' dry fizz! Not much harm in that, Sir Hilton. You'll do me the honour, sir, just for luck? Tighten up your nerves, and make you win in a canter." "Do you want me to win, Sam?" said Sir Hilton, sharply. "Win, Sir Hilton? Of course. I thought I was going to lose heavily, but I've put it right, and it means a couple of hundred if you sail in first." "And if I lose?" "I shall be just about even, Sir Hilton," said the man, with a grin, as he held out the tray. "Well," said Sir Hilton, whose cheeks were flushed with excitement, "I shall win, Sam." He took up the clear, foaming glass, from up whose centre the tiny beads were rising fast, like a fountain, to break and add to the sparkling foam. "Here's La Sylphide, Sam." "Here's La Sylphide, Sir Hilton," cried the trainer, "and thanking my old master for the honour done to his old trainer Simpkins, chrissen Sam." As he spoke he fixed his eyes full upon those of the gaily-dressed jockey facing him, and, taking his time from his guest, raised the glass to his lips and kept it there till it was drained, before holding out the salver for Sir Hilton's empty glass. "Bah! Too dry," said Sir Hilton, with a slight grimace. "How long have you had that wine?" "'Bout seven year, Sir Hilton," replied the man, setting down the waiter and replacing the bottle by the glasses, but so clumsily that he knocked over his guest's glass, which was shivered to atoms on the floor. "Oh, I beg pardon, Sir Hilton! I'm so excited with the race that my head's all of a shake. Hi, somebody, a clean glass!" The barmaid ran out with the fresh glass, and she was followed by one of the other maids with a dustpan and brush. "That's right, my lass; be careful; don't leave any bits." As he spoke he lifted the little marble table out of the maid's way and filled the glasses again, before raising the waiter to hand it for the second time to his guest. "No, no, Sam; one's enough." "What, Sir Hilton! You won't wet the other eye?" "No, not even if I were not going to ride. That wine's bad." "Bad, Sir Hilton?" cried the trainer, raising his own glass to the light, sniffing at it, tasting it cautiously, and then looking again at his visitor. "Mouth must be a bit out o' taste with the excitement. Seems to me--" He raised his glass to his lips again, took a good pull, and then drained and set it down. "Beg your pardon, Sir Hilton," he said; "I don't set up for a judge, but I wouldn't wish to taste a better drop o' cham than that." "Glad you like it," said Sir Hilton, tetchily. "Try it again, sir. Give your mouth a rinse out with it, and then finish the glass." "No, thanks; that will do. Bah! I can taste it now," said Sir Hilton, snappishly, and he smacked his lips, and then passed his tongue over them two or three times as he walked hastily up and down, tapping his boot with the gold-mounted whip he held.