University of Santa Clara - Redwood Yearbook (Santa Clara, CA)

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THE REDWOOD Not my doings, madam. Have no say, you know. One week ' s notice. With that he turned on his heel and passed through the gate. The poor woman in her distress ran after him to the carriage. There she appealed to Lord Everleigh himself. Just a month longer, sir, she begged, I know I ' ll have some money then. Please don ' t turn me away. U here will I go! What will I do! The Lord Evetleigh looked impatient and uncomfortable. I see no other way madam, no other way, he said. With this she burst out sobbing afresh and turned to Lady Everleigh. Surely, madam, you will not turn me out to starve. Do let me stay. What is a month longer! I ' ll do anything for you, madam. The Lady Everleigh merely tightened her lips, elevated her eyebrows, and gazed in front of her. Enough of this, snapped Lord Everleigh. Let us be off. The poor woman turned to walk to the house but her sobbing shook her body so violently that she leaned for support against the picket fence. This sight brought the tears to young Fred ' s eyes, — tears of love and pity, — tears of anger and hateful revenge. He had viewed the whole scene with bated breath and a sickeniug feeling of disas- ter. The sight of his poor mother in tears melted his heart with love. Again the sight of the Lord coldly turning away his own dear mother like a troublesome insect, sent such a flow of angry, resentful blood surging through his veins that his hands fairly trembled. A great feeling for revenge, a lust to strike overpowered him and probably he would have done something foolish, had not the coach suddenly rolled away. Seeing his mother alone weeping by the fence, he swallowed his quivering emotions and tearful himself, walked towards her. Slipping his arm around her, he drew her quietly into the house. After a time she became quieter and Fred taking her hand tried to comfort her. Mother, please don ' t take it so hard. We ' ll get along all right. I ' m going down to Yorkshire next week. You know father always said I ' d make a good jockey, — I can even ride pretty well now and look how light I am. No, dear, cried his mother anxious- ly clasping her child in her arms, you cannot go down to that rough place. You ' ll surely be hurt. No, you must stay with me. You ' re all I have left. But father always said I was made for a jockey. Why! there are boys younger than I am, riding the horses down there. I have always wanted to get to work to help you and to-day the time lias come. I miist go, mother. It was Saturday afternoon, a week before the great Yorkshire Handicap, for which there was a purse of 5000. A larger crowd than usual was in attendance at the race course. Much interest was evinced in the afternoon races, but most of the talk centered in the great handicap of the coming Satur- day. The latest news on this event and

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THE REDWOOD TfiE YOFxilSHIFvS: HANDICAP FRED MARTIN was a little boy at the time, — barely thirteen years old; still he never forgot the in- cident with which this story opens. His father who had been a groom in the stables of Lord Everleigh had died some three months before and now Fred and his mother lived alone in the little cottage on the outskirts of the Everleigh estate. Since her husband ' s death Mrs. Martin had taken up washing as a means of livelihood for herself and sou. The proceeds of this, however, were barely sufficient for food, so consequent- ly not a cent of rent had been paid since the death of Mr. Martin. Thus matters stood at the opening of this story, — a beautiful day in spring. Now it happened that on this same beautiful spring morning, Lord Everleigh and his Lady were driving over the estate. It also happened that Lord Everleigh was in a bad humor on account of the poor showing of two of his horses the daj ' before. McLaren, the trainer and overseer of the stables who was also in the carriage, had just related the doings of his horses in detail, and the Lord now sat s ilent and frown- ing as he turned the whole story over in his mind. Presently he spoke. What the devil was the matter with Lady Jane to come fourth after all that training? Bad start, — almost left at the post. answered the trainer. Even so, snapped the Lord Ever- leigh, you ' d think she ' d show the class on the stretch anyway. She was running with a bunch of good ones sir, you must remember, explained McLaren. Good ones! Gad, man, wasn ' t Lady Jane a good one? Wasn ' t she the favorite? Six furlongs too; just her race. McLaren shrugged his shoulders and the argument dropped. Presently they came alongside the home where the Martins were living. Who the devil lives there now? Lord Everleigh asked of McLaren. Why, the widow of Jim Martin, the groom who died some three months back. She and her young boy l ive there. I wondered, because I see the rent is due here for some months back. Stop the carriage and tell her, she ' ll have to pay to date or leave. Give her a week ' s notice. I don ' t want any of this charity business on my lauds. Accordingly the carriage was stopped and McLaren approached the house. Fred, who was weeding a vegetable patch in the front garden, immediately rushed into the house and returned with his mother. When she heard the news she burst into tears and begged to remain a little while longer. Please, Mr. McLaren, she cried. Fm sure FIl do better with my work now, and Fll pay some of it off. Just a month longer.

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THE REDWOOD the conversation of the afternoon was the entry of Eord Everleigh ' s Winsome Win. This horse was little known, in fact she had never run in public, so naturally this move rather upset the pubhc ' s calculations for the coming event. The people knew if Everleigh entered a horse, it must be a good one. Still, after expert consideration the gen- eral opinion had it, that no matter what this new entry was made of, he could scarcely run alongside horses like Max- well and Cleopatra, which were the favorites. On the veranda of the club-house stood Lord Everleigh himself, with a pair of binoculars slung over his shoul- der. He was deliberating seriously with two other gentlemen of racing appearance. Hard by at a table sat Eady Everleigh in plumes and silk with several friends. The conversation in both groups consisted of horses, wagers and jockeys. Presently a man consulting a note- book entered the veranda and walked to the group of gentlemen. The man was McEareu. Well, what news? asked Everleigh. I ' ve got several names here, but I think either one of these is the man, — Dermot or Ingles. They ' ve both been riding well,lately. Everleigh studied the names for a long time, then looked up thoughtfully. Well, gentlemen, what do you think? They ' re two of the best, answered one of the racing gentlemen. The other appeared less sanguine. At length he said doubtfully. Neither of them is the man that is riding Max- well or Cleopatra. On this Everleigh became more thoughtful than ever. He gazed ab- stractedly over at the swaying crowd about the betting booths and played nervously with the note-book in his hand. At length he said with a determined voice. We can ' t have any confounded second class man on the horse next Saturday. We want the best, — the best jockey in England. It ' s to be my big deal this year and I ' ll not take chances. We ' ve got the horse that can do it and now we want the man. And by Heaven, we ' ll have him! At that moment the attention of the crowd was drawn to the approach of the horses for the fifth race, the event of the day. The crowd in the booths moved towards the track, and the occu- pants of the grandstand sat up to criti- cize the prancing line of ponies. The gentlemen on the veranda raised their glasses and studied the horses as they passed the club-house. There ' s Dermot now on Firefly, ' ' exclaimed McLaren. She ' s the favor- ite. And there ' s Lord Waterbury ' s old nag Endymion, I thought that horse had died long ago, remarked one of the racing gentlemen. In a few rnoments the horses were at the post. After some skilful manoeuvre- ing on the part of the starter, the cry suddenly went up: They ' re off. All eyes followed them around the farther