“Well, I saw the finish of the race as clearly as anything; and one horse won easily, almost in a canter, and everybody cried out ‘Bread and Butter wins! Good old Bread and Butter.’ I heard the name distinctly, and I’ve had the same dream two nights running.” “Bread and Butter,” said Mrs. de Claux, “now, whatever horse can that point to? Why—of course; Nursery Tea!” She looked round with the triumphant smile of a successful unraveller of mystery. “How about Le Five O’Clock?” interposed Sir Lulworth. “It would fit either of them equally well,” said Odo; “can you remember any details about the jockey’s colours? That might help us.” “I seem to remember a glimpse of lemon sleeves or cap, but I can’t be sure,” said Lola, after due reflection. “There isn’t a lemon jacket or cap in the race,” said Bertie, referring to a list of starters and jockeys; “can’t you remember anything about the appearance of the horse? If it were a thick-set animal, this bread and butter would typify Nursery Tea; and if it were thin, of course, it would mean Le Five O’Clock.” “That seems sound enough,” said Mrs. de Claux; “do think, Lola dear, whether the horse in your dream was thin or stoutly built.” “I can’t remember that it was one or the other,” said Lola; “one wouldn’t notice such a detail in the excitement of a finish.” “But this was a symbolic animal,” said Sir Lulworth; “if it were to typify thick or thin bread and butter surely it ought to have been either as bulky and tubby as a shire cart-horse; or as thin as a heraldic leopard.” “I’m afraid you are rather a careless dreamer,” said Bertie resentfully. “Of course, at the moment of dreaming I thought I was witnessing a real race, not the portent of one,” said Lola; “otherwise I should have particularly noticed all helpful details.” “The Derby isn’t run till to-morrow,” said Mrs. de Claux; “do you think you are likely to have the same dream again to-night? If so; you can fix your attention on the important detail of the animal’s appearance.” “I’m afraid I shan’t sleep at all to-night,” said Lola pathetically; “every fifth night I suffer from insomnia, and it’s due to-night.” “It’s most provoking,” said Bertie; “of course, we can back both horses, but it would be much more satisfactory to have all our money on the winner. Can’t you take a sleeping-draught, or something?” “Oakleaves, soaked in warm water and put under the bed, are recommended by some,” said Mrs. de Claux. “A glass of Benedictine, with a drop of eau-de-Cologne—” said Sir Lulworth. “I have tried every known remedy,” said Lola, with dignity; “I’ve been a martyr to insomnia for years.” “But now we are being martyrs to it,” said Odo sulkily; “I particularly want to land a big coup over this race.” “I don’t have insomnia for my own amusement,” snapped Lola. “Let us hope for the best,” said Mrs. de Claux soothingly; “to-night may prove an exception to the fifth-night rule.”