"Back, Velocipede; back, Lara!" says the starter; down goes the flag, they dart away, and then there is a low hum of conversation, until a murmur is heard down the course, which swells into a roar as you notice it.

The horses are coming.

One of the royal huntsmen gallops by, and then, as the noise comes up towards you, you can hear the maddening rush of the horses' feet upon the turf, and, at the same time, a bay and a chestnut rush past in the last fierce struggle, and no man knows yet who has won.
Then the crowd poured once more over the turf, and surged and cheered round the winning horses.

Soon it came out that Velocipede had won, and George, turning round delighted, stood face to face with a gipsy woman.
She had her hood low on her head, so that he could not see her face, but she said, in a low voice, "Let me tell your fortune." "It is told already, mother," said George.

"Velocipede has won; you won't tell me any better news than that this day, I know." "No, George Hawker, I shan't," replied the gipsy, and, raising her hood for an instant, she discovered to his utter amazement the familiar countenance of Madge.
"Will you let me tell your fortune now, my boy ?" she said.
"What, Madge, old girl! By Jove, you shall.