"Yes," said Sir Hilton, thoughtfully, as Syd took his young wife's announcement as his cue to rise, and stood by her ready to receive a share of the coming blessing--or the other thing. "Thank you, yes," said Sir Hilton, dreamily. "Yes, I know you now. La Sylphide, the mare, won, and you are La Sylphide too, the pretty little girl at the big music-hall who called herself after my mare. Thank you, Miss Simpkins. I hope you won a pair of gloves." "Oh, dear!" cried the girl, pouting; "he don't understand a bit. I suppose, Syd, we must wait till he comes round. But do you think it was our champagne that made him so ill? Oh, here's dad. Daddy dear, Sir Hilton's quite off his head still." "Yes, my gal, I know." "But do you think our champagne was bad enough to make him as queer as this?" "What!" roared the trainer, with his face turning mottled. "No, cert'n'y not. Hold your tongue! Well, Sir Hilton, how are you now?" "Never better, Sam! never better. A little thick in the head only. You need not trouble any more about me." "Oh, but I do, Sir Hilton." "Nonsense, man!" said the baronet, drawing himself up. "I'm quite right. I can't understand how it was you persisted in coming, and bringing your charming daughter with you all this way, and at so late an hour. Why, it must be getting on for ten." "For ten, Sir Hilton?" cried Simpkins, with a chuckle, and, to the baronet's surprise, he dropped into a lounge. "Don't scold father, uncle," said the girl, with a little emphasis on the last word, whose effect was to make the gentleman addressed lay his fidgety left hand once more upon his forehead. "I wanted to come, you know." "Eh? Very good of you," said Sir Hilton, politely; "and I shall make a point of telling Lady Lisle how kind and attentive you were at your house during my little indisposition. It was the sun, I feel sure." "Ay, you've hit it now, Sir Hilton. That's what it was--the sun." "Yes, the sun," assented Sir Hilton, before turning again smilingly to Molly. "Yes," he repeated, "I feel sure that Lady Lisle will be most grateful, and that she will call upon you to express her gratitude for the kindness of La Sylphide." "Oh! Sir Hilton--" began Molly; but she stopped, for he went off, wandering strangely again at the mention of that word, but only to be brought up short by the trainer. "There, what did I say, Sir Hilton? You were not fit to go, but you would insist upon coming home." "Ah, yes," cried the baronet, recollecting himself again. "I remember now--I was ill--in bed--there was the doctor--I grew better, and wanted to come home, and the landlord insisted upon bringing his little nurse." "That's right, Sir Hilton." "But I didn't want him, and I don't want the little nurse; do I, Syd?" "No, uncle, of course not. But I do, darling," whispered the boy, nudging his wife. "Quite right, my boy. So now, Mr Simpkins, I thank you once more. Will you have the goodness to take your daughter and go?"