Honey pampered him and called him Poppy, while in Marian's chill courtesy, in her averted glances, Bud had read her dislike of Pop.

He had seen her hand shrink away from contact with his hand when she set his coffee beside his plate.
But Bud had heard others speak respectfully of Boise, and regret that he was too fast to run.

Pop might be childish on some subjects, but Bud rather banked on his judgment of horses--and Pop was penurious and anxious to win money.
"What are you thinking about ?" Honey demanded when the music stopped.
"Something awful important, I guess, to make you want to keep right on dancing!" "I was thinking of horse-racing," Bud confessed, glad that he could tell her the truth.
"Ah, you! Don't let them make a fool of you.

Some of the fellows would bet the shirt off their backs on a horse-race! You look out for them, Bud." "They wouldn't bet any more than I would," Bud boldly declared.

"I've bet already against a horse I've never seen.