TheCompleteMemoirsOfGeorgeSherston

to convey Gockbird to the course by two o'clock on
that afternoon, we decided against his spending the
previous night in Downfield. I suggested that he
would probably sleep better in his own stable, which
struck me at the time as being improperly expressed,
though it was necessary that he should lie down and
shut his eyes like everybody else who has something
important to do next day. In this connection I should
like to mention an odd fact, which is that when I
dream about horses, as I often do, they usually talk
like human beings, although the things they say, as
in most dreams, are only confused fantasias on
ordinary speech.

Anyhow, it was arranged that Dixon should ride
Gockbird to Dumbridge on Wednesday morning,
box him to Downfield, put him up at Whatman's
"Hunting and Livery Stables'* for two or three hours,
and then jog him quietly out to the course, which
was about four miles from Downfield. In the mean-
time I was to ride Harkaway to Dumbricige (I felt
that this ride would be better for me than if I drove
in the dogcart), catch a later train, and find my way
out to the course as best I could. The bag holding
my coat, boots, cap, spurs, and weight-cloth would
go by the carrier. (I mention these details because
they did seem so vastly important at the time.)

Cockbird's night's rest was, I imagine, normal, and
it didn't occur to me to speculate about Dixon's.
My own slumbers were what I should then have
considered inadequate; that is to say, I lay awake for
a couple of hours and then slept like a top until
Miriam called me at eight.

I came down to breakfast reticent and self-conscious.
Patient Miriam's anxiety that I should eat a good
breakfast wasn't well received, and Aunt Evelyn's