"It 's about the Derby," said Mr. Verdant Green, with a heavy sigh.
"About the Derby! Oh! that 's the sort of book, is it? I see, now, which way the wind lies." Little Mr. Bouncer gave a meditative and prolonged whistle, which, being mistaken for a signal by Huz and Buz, immediately sent them on a vain quest for rats in every corner of the room. "A book about the Derby!" said the little gentleman, when, by the aid of thwacks from his post-horn, he had reduced his dogs to a deceitful tranquillity similar to that of a volcano before eruption; "why Giglamps, you could just as soon write 'Paradise Lost,' like that mute, inglorious Milton did."
"I 've lost my paradise—at any rate, my peace of mind," groaned Mr. Verdant Green, too occupied by his own thoughts to take notice of the false application of his friend's quotation.
"Tell me how it all came about, and I 'll see if I can help you," said little Mr. Bouncer, after some thoughtful pulls at his cigar. "Two heads are better than one, although mine 's but an addled one. The fact is, I 'd too much pap when I was a baby, and it got into my noddle. But, how was it?"
"You know Blucher Boots?—the Honourable Blucher Boots, son of Lord Balmoral?" added Mr. Verdant Green in explanation.
"Know him!" cried little Mr. Bouncer; "yes! who doesn't know him? Although he 's Honourable by name, he 's not by nature. He 's as genuine a cad as was ever pupped; and if some feller would give him a good licking, and take the conceit out of him, it would be a public benefit. And did he help you to make your book on the Derby, Giglamps?"
