"Snow Bunting?" said Odo, with a groan, "there's another of them. Surely, Snow Bunting has no earthly chance?"
"My housekeeper's nephew, who is a shoeing-smith in the mounted section of the Church Lads' Brigade, and an authority on horseflesh, expects him to be among the first three."
"The nephews of housekeepers are invariably optimists," said Bertie; "it's a kind of natural reaction against the professional pessimism of their aunts."
"We don't seem to get much further in our search for the probable winner," said Mrs. de Claux; "the more I listen to you experts the more hopelessly befogged I get."
"It's all very well to blame us," said Bertie to his hostess; "you haven't produced anything in the way of an inspiration."
"My inspiration consisted in asking you down for Derby week," retorted Mrs. de Claux; "I thought you and Odo between you might throw some light on the question of the moment."
Further recriminations were cut short by the arrival of Lola Pevensey, who floated into the room with an air of gracious apology.
"So sorry to be so late," she observed, making a rapid tour of inspection of the breakfast dishes.
"Did you have a good night?" asked her hostess with perfunctory solicitude.
"Quite, thank you," said Lola; "I dreamt a most remarkable dream."
