"I feel awed and diffident in the presence of such learning," said Miss
Goodloe almost sleepily. "Why did I neglect my opportunities at Dobbs
Ferry!"
"I would give a good deal to observe you when you felt diffident,
Virginia," said Mrs. Dillon, with a laugh like a silver bell. "Uncle
Jake!" she called, "we are going now."
"I have heard of Uncle Jake," I said, as the old man felt his way
toward us.
"Yes?" said Mrs. Dillon. "He insisted upon coming to _see_ the derby."
She dwelt ever so lightly upon the verb, and Uncle Jake caught it.
"No, Miss Sally," he explained, "dat ain' 'zackly what I mean. Hit's
like dis--I just am boun' foh to hyah all de folks shout glory when ma
Honey-bird comes home!"
"What if she ain't in front, Uncle Jake?" said Blister, helping the old
man into the motor.
"Don't you trifle with me, boy!" replied Uncle Jake severely.
Derby day dawned as fair as turquoise sky and radiant sun could make
it. I had slept badly. Until late the night before I had absorbed a
haze of cigar smoke and the talk in the hotel lobby. Despite Blister's
confidence I had become panicky as I listened. There had been so much
assurance about several grave, soft-spoken horsemen who had felt that
at the weight the favorite could not win.
"Nevah foh a moment, suh," one elderly well-preserved Kentuckian had
said, "will I deny the Dillon mare the right to be the public's choice.
But she has nevah met such a field of hosses as this, suh--and she
lacks the bone to carry top weight against them.
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