‘Do tell us what you dreamt,’ came in a chorus.

‘The really remarkable thing about it is that I’ve dreamt it two nights running,’ said Lola, finally deciding between the allurements of sausages and kedgeree; ‘that is why I thought it worth mentioning. You know, when I dream things two or three nights in succession, it always means something; I have special powers in that way. For instance, I once dreamed three times that a winged lion was flying through the sky and one of his wings dropped off, and he came to the ground with a crash; just afterwards the Campanile at Venice fell down. The winged lion is the symbol of Venice, you know,’ she added for the enlightenment of those who might not be versed in Italian heraldry. ‘Then,’ she continued, ‘just before the murder of the King and Queen of Servia I had a vivid dream of two crowned figures walking into a slaughter-house by the banks of a big river, which I took to be the Danube; and only the other day—’

‘Do tell us what you’ve dreamt about the Derby,’ interrupted Odo impatiently.

‘Well, I saw the finish of the race as clearly as anything; and one horse won easily, almost in a canter, and everybody cried out “Bread and Butter wins! Good old Bread and Butter.” I heard the name distinctly, and I’ve had the same dream two nights running.’

‘Bread and Butter,’ said Mrs de Claux, ‘now, whatever horse can that point to? Why—of course; Nursery Tea!’

She looked round with the triumphant smile of a successful unraveller of mystery.

‘How about Le Five O’Clock?’ interposed Sir Lulworth.

‘It would fit either of them equally well,’ said Odo; ‘can you remember any details about the jockey’s colours? That might help us.’

‘I seem to remember a glimpse of lemon sleeves or cap, but I can’t be sure,’ said Lola, after due reflection.

‘There isn’t a lemon jacket or cap in the race,’ said Bertie, referring to a list of starters and jockeys; ‘can’t you remember anything about the appearance of the horse? If it were a thick-set animal thick bread and butter would typify Nursery Tea; and if it were thin, of course, it would mean Le Five O’Clock.’

‘That seems sound enough’ said Mrs de Claux; ‘do think, Lola dear, whether the horse in your dream was thin or stoutly built.’

‘I can’t remember that it was one or the other,’ said Lola; ‘one wouldn’t notice such a detail in the excitement of a finish.’

‘But this was a symbolic animal,’ said Sir Lulworth; ‘if it were to typify thick or thin bread and butter, surely it ought to have been either as bulky and tubby as a shire cart-horse, or as thin as a heraldic leopard.’

‘I’m afraid you are rather a careless dreamer,’ said Bertie resentfully.

‘Of course, at the moment of dreaming I thought I was witnessing a real race, not the portent of one,’ said Lola; ‘otherwise I should have particularly noticed all helpful details.’

‘The Derby isn’t run till tomorrow,’ said Mrs de Claux; ‘do you think you are likely to have the same dream again tonight? If so, you can fix your attention on the important detail of the animal’s appearance.’

‘I’m afraid I shan’t sleep at all tonight,’ said Lola pathetically; ‘every fifth night I suffer from insomnia, and it’s due tonight.’

‘It’s most provoking,’ said Bertie; ‘of course, we can back both horses, but it would be much more satisfactory to have all our money on the winner. Can’t you take a sleeping-draught, or something?’