human
I'll tell you a story, Frank. When a boy, I remember starting one morning with poor Ferguson (the owner of Harkaway) to ride one of his horses in a private match. We took a short cut across an old mountain road, and coming out on the brow of the hill which commanded one of the finest views in Ireland, I pulled up my horse to call Ferguson's attention to it. 'For heaven's sake, sir,' he said impatiently, 'think on something that will do you good.' And just at this moment, old man, I feel half inclined to agree with him. How much money have you left?
gpt
I think we shall have enough.
human
Enough for what?
gpt
For a ball, he replied coolly.
human
The people here have been very civil to us, and we owe them some return. There are plenty of girls in the neighbourhood to make a very good one; men are scarce; but we can ask the Plungers
gpt
My dear fellow, he replied,
human
And how far, I asked, with a slight sneer,
gpt
I have arranged all that as well, answered Dick, with the air of a man who had thoroughly mastered the subject.
human
The races here come off the end of August. There is a £50 Plate to be run for on the flat, and a steeple-chase as well. I know all the horses likely to start. With one exception (Father B.'s) ours can give them a stone for either event. The priest can't run his horse; the new bishop has been down on him. We can send for ours: plenty of time for a rough preparation. Thanks to the hot weather, and that confounded drill, you can still ride eleven stone. There now, what more do you want? Come along to the lodge, and we will talk the matter over comfortably.