“It is no favour,” said Mr. Vigo; “it is not even an act of friendliness; it is a freak, and it is my freak; the favour, if there be one, is conferred by you.”

“But I really do not know what to say,” said Endymion, hesitating and confused.

“I am not a classical scholar,” said Mr. Vigo, “but there are two things which I think I understand—men and horses. I like to back them both when I think they ought to win.”

“But I am scarcely a man,” said Endymion, rather piteously, “and I sometimes think I shall never win anything.”

“That is my affair,” replied Mr. Vigo; “you are a yearling, and I have formed my judgment as to your capacity. What I wish to do in your case is what I have done in others, and some memorable ones. Dress does not make a man, but it often makes a successful one. The most precious stone, you know, must be cut and polished. I shall enter your name in my books for an unlimited credit, and no account to be settled till you are a privy councillor. I do not limit the credit, because you are a man of sense and a gentleman, and will not abuse it. But be quite as careful not to stint yourself as not to be needlessly extravagant. In the first instance, you would be interfering with my experiment, and that would not be fair.”

This conversation took place in Mr. Vigo’s counting-house the morning after............