It’s just what he would do,—­bless ’im! 
       Yes, I owed every atom to him: 
     So you’ll guess how I felt that mornin’,
       When, with eyes all wet and dim,
     He told me the new folk would give ’im
       But two weeks to pay his arrears;
     Then he cried like a little child, sir. 
       When I saw the old fellow’s tears,
     My young blood boiled madly within me;
       I knew how he’d struggled and fought
     ’Gainst years of bad seasons and harvests;
       How nobly but vainly he’d sought
     To make both ends meet at the “Whitelands.” 
       “They never will do it!” I cry. 
     “You’ve lived all your life at the ‘Farm,’ Josh,
       And you’ll still live on there till you die! 
     ’Tain’t for me to tell stable secrets,
       But I know—­well, just what I know: 
     Go! say that in less than a month, Josh,
       You’ll pay every penny you owe.”

* * * * *

     “A couple o’ hundred” was wanted
       To pull good old Joshua right;
     I was only a lad; but I’d “fifty”—­
       My money went that night,
     Every penny on “Painted Lady”
       For the “Stakes” in the coming week. 
     I should ’ave backed her afore, sir;
       But waited for master to speak
     As to what he intended a-doing,
       I thought ’twas a “plant”—­d’ye see? 
     With a bit o’ “rope” in the question,
       So I’d let “Painted Lady” be. 
     I knew she could win in a canter,
       As long as there wasn’t no “fake.” 
     And now—­well, I meant that she should win,
       For poor old Josh Grinley’s sake.

* * * * *

    The three-year old “Painted Lady”
      Had never been beat in her life;
    And I’d always ’ad the mount, sir;
      But rumours now ’gan to get rife
    That something was wrong with the “filly”. 
      The “bookies” thought everything “square”—­
    For them—­so they “laid quite freely”
      Good odds ’gainst the master’s mare! 
    When he’d gone abroad in the summer
      He had given us orders to train
    “The Lady” for this ’ere race, sir;
      We’d never heard from him again. 
    And, seeing the “bookies” a-layin’,
      I thought they knew more than I: 
    But now I thought with a chuckle,
      Let each look out for his eye. 
    The morning before the race, sir,
      The owner turned up.  With a smile
    I showed ’im the mare—­“There she is, sir,
      Goin’ jist in ’er same old style. 
    We’ll win in a common canter,
      ‘Painted Lady’ and I, Sir Hugh,
    As we’ve always done afore, sir;
      As we always mean to do.”