But of course few citizens ever accept Little Alfie's figures as strictly official, because they do not know if Asbury Potts's watch is properly regulated for timing racehorses, even though Asbury Potts is 100 percent right when he says they will never be able to get Last Hope to the races again.
Well, I meet up with Little Alfie one night this summer in Mindy's Restaurant on Broadway, and it is the first time he is observed in these parts in some time, and he seems to be looking very prosperous, indeed, and after we get to cutting up old touches, he tells me the reason for this prosperity.
It seems that after Mr. Paul D. Veere returns to New York and puts back in his bank whatever it is that it is advisable for him to put back, or takes out whatever it is that seems best to take out, and gets himself all rounded up so there is no chance of his going to jail, he remembers that there is a slight difference between him and Little Alfie, so what does Mr. Paul D. Veere do but sit down and write out a check for fifty G's to Little Alfie to take up his IOU, so Little Alfie is nothing out on account of losing the Kentucky Derby, and, in fact, he is stone rich, and I am glad to hear of it, because I always sympathize deeply with him in his bereavement over the loss of Last Hope. Then I ask Little Alfie what he is doing in New York at this time, and he states to me as follows:
"Well," Little Alfie says, "I will tell you. The other day," he says, "I get to thinking things over, and among other things I get to thinking that after Last Hope wins the Kentucky Derby, he is a sure thing to go on and also win the Maryland Preakness, because," Little Alfie says, "the Preakness is a sixteenth of a mile shorter than the Derby, and a horse that can run a mile and a quarter in the mud in around 2:03 with a brick house on his back is bound to make anything that wears hair look silly at a mile and three-sixteenths, especially," Little Alfie says, "if it comes up mud.
"So," Little Alfie says, "I am going to call on Mr. Paul D. Veere and see if he does not wish to pay me the Preakness stake, too, because," he says, "I am building the finest house in South Georgia at Last Hope, which is my stock farm where Last Hope himself is on public exhibition, and I can always use a few bobs here and there."
"Well, Alfie," I say, "this seems to me to be a very fair proposition, indeed, and," I say, "I am sure Mr. Paul D. Veere will take care of it as soon as it is called to his attention, as there is no doubt you and Last Hope are of great service to Mr. Paul D. Veere. By the way, Alfie," I say, "whatever becomes of Governor Hicks?"
"Why," Little Alfie says, "do you know Governor Hicks turns out to be a terrible disappointment to me as a plow horse? He learns how to sit down from Abimelech, the mule, and nothing will make him stir, not even the same encouragement I give him the day he drops down there third at Hialeah.
"But," Little Alfie says, "my ever-loving wife is figuring on using the old Governor as a saddle horse for our twins, Beulah and Little Alfie, Junior, when they get old enough, although," he says, "I tell her the Governor will never be worth a dime in such a way especially," Little Alfie says, "if it comes up mud."