Page:The Whisper on the Stair by Lyon Mearson (1924).djvu/79

 “Well, why don’t you play it?” inquired Val, though he knew the reason as well as Freddy did.

“Well, the fact is, Val—the reason why—that is, you know, my next quarter’s allowance isn’t due for three weeks and⸺”

“What about last quarter’s allowance, Freddy?”

Freddy smiled ingenuously. “The last quarter’s! Ha! That’s rather rich—most of it went to you when it did finally roll around. So I sort of thought⸺”

“You sort of thought that maybe⸺” Val looked at him pointedly.

“Exactly!” Freddy sighed with relief. That was just what he had thought.

“Well, there’s nothing doing, Fred, old kid,” he said with decision.

“Why, what do you mean, Val?” said Freddy with alarm.

“Oh, nothing,” yawned Val, “except that the last time you had a tip that was sure to come through it cost me just fifteen hundred berries—too much money to put on a racehorse that won’t race. The poor plug is probably running yet. I⸺”

“I say, Val, I didn’t mean I want you to go in on this with me, you know,” protested Freddy. “I just thought you might help me out with a loan, seeing I’m so short myself. This is different—this is a dead-sure thing—I got it from the owner himself. This here Jessica filly⸺”

“Jessica?” asked Val, sitting up with interest.

The other nodded. “Keep it quiet, though. No use everybody being in on it. Only brings the odds up, y’know. If you’d only let me have, say, five hundred, Val⸺”

“All right, Freddy. Five hundred it is.” He pulled