{"id":5705,"date":"2026-03-01T03:33:24","date_gmt":"2026-03-01T03:33:24","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/?p=5705"},"modified":"2026-03-01T03:33:24","modified_gmt":"2026-03-01T03:33:24","slug":"the-rocking-horse-winner-by-d-h-lawrence","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/?p=5705","title":{"rendered":"The Rocking Horse Winner by D. H. Lawrence"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>The Rocking Horse Winner by <a href=\"https:\/\/quizlit.org\/the-horse-dealers-daughter-by-d-h-lawrence\">D. H. Lawrence<\/a> was first published in July 1926, in Harper\u2019s Bazaar and subsequently appeared in the first volume of Lawrence\u2019s collected short stories.<\/p>\n<p><em>This post may contain affiliate links that earn us a commission at no extra cost to you.<\/em><\/p>\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading has-text-align-center\">The Rocking Horse Winner by D. H. Lawrence<\/h2>\n<div class=\"epyt-video-wrapper\">\n<div class=\"__youtube_prefs__ epyt-facade no-lazyload\"><button class=\"epyt-facade-play\"><\/button><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading has-text-align-center\">The Rocking Horse Winner by D. H. Lawrence<\/h3>\n\n<p>There was a woman who was beautiful, who started with all the advantages, yet she had no luck. She married for love, and the love turned to dust. She had bonny children, yet she felt they had been thrust upon her, and she could not love them. They looked at her coldly, as if they were finding fault with her. And hurriedly she felt she must cover up some fault in herself. Yet what it was that she must cover up she never knew. Nevertheless, when her children were present, she always felt the centre of her heart go hard. This troubled her, and in her manner she was all the more gentle and anxious for her children, as if she loved them very much. Only she herself knew that at the centre of her heart was a hard little place that could not feel love, no, not for anybody. Everybody else said of her: \u201cShe is such a good mother. She adores her children.\u201d Only she herself, and her children themselves, knew it was not so. They read it in each other\u2019s eyes.<br \/>There were a boy and two little girls. They lived in a pleasant house, with a garden, and they had discreet servants, and felt themselves superior to anyone in the neighbourhood.<br \/>Although they lived in style, they felt always an anxiety in the house. There was never enough money. The mother had a small income, and the father had a small income, but not nearly enough for the social position which they had to keep up. The father went into town to some office. But though he had good prospects, these prospects never materialised. There was always the grinding sense of the shortage of money, though the style was always kept up.<br \/>At last the mother said: \u201cI will see if I can\u2019t make something.\u201d But she did not know where to begin. She racked her brains, and tried this thing and the other, but could not find anything successful. The failure made deep lines come into her face. Her children were growing up, they would have to go to school. There must be more money, there must be more money. The father, who was always very handsome and expensive in his tastes, seemed as if he never would be able to do anything worth doing. And the mother, who had a great belief in herself, did not succeed any better, and her tastes were just as expensive.<br \/>And so the house came to be haunted by the unspoken phrase: There must be more money! There must be more money! The children could hear it all the time though nobody said it aloud. They heard it at Christmas, when the expensive and splendid toys filled the nursery. Behind <a href=\"https:\/\/quizlit.org\/10-genuinely-terrifying-books\">the shining<\/a> modern rocking-horse, behind the smart doll\u2019s house, a voice would start whispering: \u201cThere must be more money! There must be more money!\u201d And the children would stop playing, to listen for a moment. They would look into each other\u2019s eyes, to see if they had all heard. And each one saw in the eyes of the other two that they too had heard. \u201cThere must be more money! There must be more money!\u201d<br \/>It came whispering from the springs of the still-swaying rocking-horse, and even the horse, bending his wooden, champing head, heard it. The big doll, sitting so pink and smirking in her new pram, could hear it quite plainly, and seemed to be smirking all the more self-consciously because of it. The foolish puppy, too, that took the place of the teddy-bear, he was looking so extraordinarily foolish for no other reason but that he heard the secret whisper all over the house: \u201cThere must be more money!\u201d<br \/>Yet nobody ever said it aloud. The whisper was everywhere, and therefore no one spoke it. Just as no one ever says: \u201cWe are breathing!\u201d in spite of the fact that breath is coming and going all the time.<br \/>\u201cMother,\u201d said the boy Paul one day, \u201cwhy don\u2019t we keep a car of our own? Why do we always use uncle\u2019s, or else a taxi?\u201d<br \/>\u201cBecause we\u2019re the poor members of the family,\u201d said the mother.<br \/>\u201cBut why are we, mother?\u201d<br \/>\u201cWell \u2013 I suppose,\u201d she said slowly and bitterly, \u201cit\u2019s because your father has no luck.\u201d<br \/>The boy was silent for some time.<br \/>\u201cIs luck money, mother?\u201d he asked, rather timidly.<br \/>\u201cNo, Paul. Not quite. It\u2019s what causes you to have money.\u201d<br \/>\u201cOh!\u201d said Paul vaguely. \u201cI thought when Uncle Oscar said filthy lucker, it meant money.\u201d<br \/>\u201cFilthy lucre does mean money,\u201d said the mother. \u201cBut it\u2019s lucre, not luck.\u201d<br \/>\u201cOh!\u201d said the boy. \u201cThen what is luck, mother?\u201d<br \/>\u201cIt\u2019s what causes you to have money. If you\u2019re lucky you have money. That\u2019s why it\u2019s better to be born lucky than rich. If you\u2019re rich, you may lose your money. But if you\u2019re lucky, you will always get more money.\u201d<br \/>\u201cOh! Will you? And is father not lucky?\u201d<br \/>\u201cVery unlucky, I should say,\u201d she said bitterly.<br \/>The boy watched her with unsure eyes.<br \/>\u201cWhy?\u201d he asked.<br \/>\u201cI don\u2019t know. Nobody ever knows why one person is lucky and another unlucky.\u201d<br \/>\u201cDon\u2019t they? Nobody at all? Does nobody know?\u201d<br \/>\u201cPerhaps God. But He never tells.\u201d<br \/>\u201cHe ought to, then. And are\u2019nt you lucky either, mother?\u201d<br \/>\u201cI can\u2019t be, it I married an unlucky husband.\u201d<br \/>\u201cBut by yourself, aren\u2019t you?\u201d<br \/>\u201cI used to think I was, before I married. Now I think I am very unlucky indeed.\u201d<br \/>\u201cWhy?\u201d<br \/>\u201cWell \u2013 never mind! Perhaps I\u2019m not really,\u201d she said.<br \/>The child looked at her to see if she meant it. But he saw, by the lines of her mouth, that she was only trying to hide something from him.<br \/>\u201cWell, anyhow,\u201d he said stoutly, \u201cI\u2019m a lucky person.\u201d<br \/>\u201cWhy?\u201d said his mother, with a sudden laugh.<br \/>He stared at her. He didn\u2019t even know why he had said it.<br \/>\u201cGod told me,\u201d he asserted, brazening it out.<br \/>\u201cI hope He did, dear!\u201d, she said, again with a laugh, but rather bitter.<br \/>\u201cHe did, mother!\u201d<br \/>\u201cExcellent!\u201d said the mother, using one of her husband\u2019s exclamations.<br \/>The boy saw she did not believe him; or rather, that she paid no attention to his assertion. This angered him somewhere, and made him want to compel her attention.<br \/>He went off by himself, vaguely, in a childish way, seeking for the clue to \u2018luck\u2019. Absorbed, taking no heed of other people, he went about with a sort of stealth, seeking inwardly for luck. He wanted luck, he wanted it, he wanted it. When the two girls were playing dolls in the nursery, he would sit on his big rocking-horse, charging madly into space, with a frenzy that made the little girls peer at him uneasily. Wildly the horse careered, the waving dark hair of the boy tossed, his eyes had a strange glare in them. The little girls dared not speak to him.<br \/>When he had ridden to the end of his mad little journey, he climbed down and stood in front of his rocking-horse, staring fixedly into its lowered face. Its red mouth was slightly open, its big eye was wide and glassy-bright.<br \/>\u201cNow!\u201d he would silently command the snorting steed. \u201cNow take me to where there is luck! Now take me!\u201d<br \/>And he would slash the horse on the neck with the little whip he had asked Uncle Oscar for. He knew the horse could take him to where there was luck, if only he forced it. So he would mount again and start on his furious ride, hoping at last to get there.<br \/>\u201cYou\u2019ll break your horse, Paul!\u201d said the nurse.<br \/>\u201cHe\u2019s always riding like that! I wish he\u2019d leave off!\u201d said his elder sister Joan.<br \/>But he only glared down on them in silence. Nurse gave him up. She could make nothing of him. Anyhow, he was growing beyond her.<br \/>One day his mother and his Uncle Oscar came in when he was on one of his furious rides. He did not speak to them.<br \/>\u201cHallo, you young jockey! Riding a winner?\u201d said his uncle.<br \/>\u201cAren\u2019t you growing too big for a rocking-horse? You\u2019re not a very little boy any longer, you know,\u201d said his mother.<br \/>But Paul only gave a blue glare from his big, rather close-set eyes. He would speak to nobody when he was in full tilt. His mother watched him with an anxious expression on her face.<br \/>At last he suddenly stopped forcing his horse into the mechanical gallop and slid down.<br \/>\u201cWell, I got there!\u201d he announced fiercely, his blue eyes still flaring, and his sturdy long legs straddling apart.<br \/>\u201cWhere did you get to?\u201d asked his mother.<br \/>\u201cWhere I wanted to go,\u201d he flared back at her.<br \/>\u201cThat\u2019s right, son!\u201d said Uncle Oscar. \u201cDon\u2019t you stop till you get there. What\u2019s the horse\u2019s name?\u201d<br \/>\u201cHe doesn\u2019t have a name,\u201d said the boy.<br \/>\u201cGet\u2019s on without all right?\u201d asked the uncle.<br \/>\u201cWell, he has different names. He was called Sansovino last week.\u201d<br \/>\u201cSansovino, eh? Won the Ascot. How did you know this name?\u201d<br \/>\u201cHe always talks about horse-races with Bassett,\u201d said Joan.<br \/>The uncle was delighted to find that his small nephew was posted with all the racing news. Bassett, the young gardener, who had been wounded in the left foot in the war and had got his present job through Oscar Cresswell, whose batman he had been, was a perfect blade of the \u2018turf\u2019. He lived in the racing events, and the small boy lived with him.<br \/>Oscar Cresswell got it all from Bassett.<br \/>\u201cMaster Paul comes and asks me, so I can\u2019t do more than tell him, sir,\u201d said Bassett, his face terribly serious, as if he were speaking of religious matters.<br \/>\u201cAnd does he ever put anything on a horse he fancies?\u201d<br \/>\u201cWell \u2013 I don\u2019t want to give him away \u2013 he\u2019s a young sport, a fine sport, sir. Would you mind asking him himself? He sort of takes a pleasure in it, and perhaps he\u2019d feel I was giving him away, sir, if you don\u2019t mind.<br \/>Bassett was serious as a church.<br \/>The uncle went back to his nephew and took him off for a ride in the car.<br \/>\u201cSay, Paul, old man, do you ever put anything on a horse?\u201d the uncle asked.<br \/>The boy watched the handsome man closely.<br \/>\u201cWhy, do you think I oughtn\u2019t to?\u201d he parried.<br \/>\u201cNot a bit of it! I thought perhaps you might give me a tip for the Lincoln.\u201d<br \/>The car sped on into the country, going down to Uncle Oscar\u2019s place in Hampshire.<br \/>\u201cHonour bright?\u201d said the nephew.<br \/>\u201cHonour bright, son!\u201d said the uncle.<br \/>\u201cWell, then, Daffodil.\u201d<br \/>\u201cDaffodil! I doubt it, sonny. What about Mirza?\u201d<br \/>\u201cI only know the winner,\u201d said the boy. \u201cThat\u2019s Daffodil.\u201d<br \/>\u201cDaffodil, eh?\u201d<br \/>There was a pause. Daffodil was an obscure horse comparatively.<br \/>\u201cUncle!\u201d<br \/>\u201cYes, son?\u201d<br \/>\u201cYou won\u2019t let it go any further, will you? I promised Bassett.\u201d<br \/>\u201cBassett be damned, old man! What\u2019s he got to do with it?\u201d<br \/>\u201cWe\u2019re partners. We\u2019ve been partners from the first. Uncle, he lent me my first five shillings, which I lost. I promised him, honour bright, it was only between me and him; only you gave me that ten-shilling note I started winning with, so I thought you were lucky. You won\u2019t let it go any further, will you?\u201d<br \/>The boy gazed at his uncle from those big, hot, blue eyes, set rather close together. The uncle stirred and laughed uneasily.<br \/>\u201cRight you are, son! I\u2019ll keep your tip private. How much are you putting on him?\u201d<br \/>\u201cAll except twenty pounds,\u201d said the boy. \u201cI keep that in reserve.\u201d<br \/>The uncle thought it a good joke.<br \/>\u201cYou keep twenty pounds in reserve, do you, you young romancer? What are you betting, then?\u201d<br \/>\u201cI\u2019m betting three hundred,\u201d said the boy gravely. \u201cBut it\u2019s between you and me, Uncle Oscar! Honour bright?\u201d<br \/>\u201cIt\u2019s between you and me all right, you young Nat Gould,\u201d he said, laughing. \u201cBut where\u2019s your three hundred?\u201d<br \/>\u201cBassett keeps it for me. We\u2019re partner\u2019s.\u201d<br \/>\u201cYou are, are you! And what is Bassett putting on Daffodil?\u201d<br \/>\u201cHe won\u2019t go quite as high as I do, I expect. Perhaps he\u2019ll go a hundred and fifty.\u201d<br \/>\u201cWhat, pennies?\u201d laughed the uncle.<br \/>\u201cPounds,\u201d said the child, with a surprised look at his uncle. \u201cBassett keeps a bigger reserve than I do.\u201d<br \/>Between wonder and amusement Uncle Oscar was silent. He pursued the matter no further, but he determined to take his nephew with him to the Lincoln races.<br \/>\u201cNow, son,\u201d he said, \u201cI\u2019m putting twenty on Mirza, and I\u2019ll put five on for you on any horse you fancy. What\u2019s your pick?\u201d<br \/>\u201cDaffodil, uncle.\u201d<br \/>\u201cNo, not the fiver on Daffodil!\u201d<br \/>\u201cI should if it was my own fiver,\u201d said the child.<br \/>\u201cGood! Good! Right you are! A fiver for me and a fiver for you on Daffodil.\u201d<br \/>The child had never been to a race-meeting before, and his eyes were blue fire. He pursed his mouth tight and watched. A Frenchman just in front had put his money on Lancelot. Wild with excitement, he flayed his arms up and down, yelling \u201cLancelot!, Lancelot!\u201d in his French accent.<br \/>Daffodil came in first, Lancelot second, Mirza third. The child, flushed and with eyes blazing, was curiously serene. His uncle brought him four five-pound notes, four to one.<br \/>\u201cWhat am I to do with these?\u201d he cried, waving them before the boys eyes.<br \/>\u201cI suppose we\u2019ll talk to Bassett,\u201d said the boy. \u201cI expect I have fifteen hundred now; and twenty in reserve; and this twenty.\u201d<br \/>His uncle studied him for some moments.<br \/>\u201cLook here, son!\u201d he said. \u201cYou\u2019re not serious about Bassett and that fifteen hundred, are you?\u201d<br \/>\u201cYes, I am. But it\u2019s between you and me, uncle. Honour bright?\u201d<br \/>\u201cHonour bright all right, son! But I must talk to Bassett.\u201d<br \/>\u201cIf you\u2019d like to be a partner, uncle, with Bassett and me, we could all be partners. Only, you\u2019d have to promise, honour bright, uncle, not to let it go beyond us three. Bassett and I are lucky, and you must be lucky, because it was your ten shillings I started winning with \u2026\u201d<br \/>Uncle Oscar took both Bassett and Paul into Richmond Park for an afternoon, and there they talked.<br \/>\u201cIt\u2019s like this, you see, sir,\u201d Bassett said. \u201cMaster Paul would get me talking about racing events, spinning yarns, you know, sir. And he was always keen on knowing if I\u2019d made or if I\u2019d lost. It\u2019s about a year since, now, that I put five shillings on Blush of Dawn for him: and we lost. Then the luck turned, with that ten shillings he had from you: that we put on Singhalese. And since that time, it\u2019s been pretty steady, all things considering. What do you say, Master Paul?\u201d<br \/>\u201cWe\u2019re all right when we\u2019re sure,\u201d said Paul. \u201cIt\u2019s when we\u2019re not quite sure that we go down.\u201d<br \/>\u201cOh, but we\u2019re careful then,\u201d said Bassett.<br \/>\u201cBut when are you sure?\u201d smiled Uncle Oscar.<br \/>\u201cIt\u2019s Master Paul, sir,\u201d said Bassett in a secret, religious voice. \u201cIt\u2019s as if he had it from heaven. Like Daffodil, now, for the Lincoln. That was as sure as eggs.\u201d<br \/>\u201cDid you put anything on Daffodil?\u201d asked Oscar Cresswell.<br \/>\u201cYes, sir, I made my bit.\u201d<br \/>\u201cAnd my nephew?\u201d<br \/>Bassett was obstinately silent, looking at Paul.<br \/>\u201cI made twelve hundred, didn\u2019t I, Bassett? I told uncle I was putting three hundred on Daffodil.\u201d<br \/>\u201cThat\u2019s right,\u201d said Bassett, nodding.<br \/>\u201cBut where\u2019s the money?\u201d asked the uncle.<br \/>\u201cI keep it safe locked up, sir. Master Paul he can have it any minute he likes to ask for it.\u201d<br \/>\u201cWhat, fifteen hundred pounds?\u201d<br \/>\u201cAnd twenty! And forty, that is, with the twenty he made on the course.\u201d<br \/>\u201cIt\u2019s amazing!\u201d said the uncle.<br \/>\u201cIf Master Paul offers you to be partners, sir, I would, if I were you: if you\u2019ll excuse me,\u201d said Bassett.<br \/>Oscar Cresswell thought about it.<br \/>\u201cI\u2019ll see the money,\u201d he said.<br \/>They drove home again, and, sure enough, Bassett came round to the garden-house with fifteen hundred pounds in notes. The twenty pounds reserve was left with Joe Glee, in the Turf Commission deposit.<br \/>\u201cYou see, it\u2019s all right, uncle, when I\u2019m sure! Then we go strong, for all we\u2019re worth, don\u2019t we, Bassett?\u201d<br \/>\u201cWe do that, Master Paul.\u201d<br \/>\u201cAnd when are you sure?\u201d said the uncle, laughing.<br \/>\u201cOh, well, sometimes I\u2019m absolutely sure, like about Daffodil,\u201d said the boy; \u201cand sometimes I have an idea; and sometimes I haven\u2019t even an idea, have I, Bassett? Then we\u2019re careful, because we mostly go down.\u201d<br \/>\u201cYou do, do you! And when you\u2019re sure, like about Daffodil, what makes you sure, sonny?\u201d<br \/>\u201cOh, well, I don\u2019t know,\u201d said the boy uneasily. \u201cI\u2019m sure, you know, uncle; that\u2019s all.\u201d<br \/>\u201cIt\u2019s as if he had it from heaven, sir,\u201d Bassett reiterated.<br \/>\u201cI should say so!\u201d said the uncle.<br \/>But he became a partner. And when the Leger was coming on Paul was \u2018sure\u2019 about Lively Spark, which was a quite inconsiderable horse. The boy insisted on putting a thousand on the horse, Bassett went for five hundred, and Oscar Cresswell two hundred. Lively Spark came in first, and the betting had been ten to one against him. Paul had made ten thousand.<br \/>\u201cYou see,\u201d he said. \u201cI was absolutely sure of him.\u201d<br \/>Even Oscar Cresswell had cleared two thousand.<br \/>\u201cLook here, son,\u201d he said, \u201cthis sort of thing makes me nervous.\u201d<br \/>\u201cIt needn\u2019t, uncle! Perhaps I shan\u2019t be sure again for a long time.\u201d<br \/>\u201cBut what are you going to do with your money?\u201d asked the uncle.<br \/>\u201cOf course,\u201d said the boy, \u201cI started it for mother. She said she had no luck, because father is unlucky, so I thought if I was lucky, it might stop whispering.\u201d<br \/>\u201cWhat might stop whispering?\u201d<br \/>\u201cOur house. I hate our house for whispering.\u201d<br \/>\u201cWhat does it whisper?\u201d<br \/>\u201cWhy \u2013 why\u201d \u2013 the boy fidgeted \u2013 \u201cwhy, I don\u2019t know. But it\u2019s always short of money, you know, uncle.\u201d<br \/>\u201cI know it, son, I know it.\u201d<br \/>\u201cYou know people send mother writs, don\u2019t you, uncle?\u201d<br \/>\u201cI\u2019m afraid I do,\u201d said the uncle.<br \/>\u201cAnd then the house whispers, like people laughing at you behind your back. It\u2019s awful, that is! I thought if I was lucky -\u201c<br \/>\u201cYou might stop it,\u201d added the uncle.<br \/>The boy watched him with big blue eyes, that had an uncanny cold fire in them, and he said never a word.<br \/>\u201cWell, then!\u201d said the uncle. \u201cWhat are we doing?\u201d<br \/>\u201cI shouldn\u2019t like mother to know I was lucky,\u201d said the boy.<br \/>\u201cWhy not, son?\u201d<br \/>\u201cShe\u2019d stop me.\u201d<br \/>\u201cI don\u2019t think she would.\u201d<br \/>\u201cOh!\u201d \u2013 and the boy writhed in an odd way \u2013 \u201cI don\u2019t want her to know, uncle.\u201d<br \/>\u201cAll right, son! We\u2019ll manage it without her knowing.\u201d<br \/>They managed it very easily. Paul, at the other\u2019s suggestion, handed over five thousand pounds to his uncle, who deposited it with the family lawyer, who was then to inform Paul\u2019s mother that a relative had put five thousand pounds into his hands, which sum was to be paid out a thousand pounds at a time, on the mother\u2019s birthday, for the next five years.<br \/>\u201cSo she\u2019ll have a birthday present of a thousand pounds for five successive years,\u201d said Uncle Oscar. \u201cI hope it won\u2019t make it all the harder for her later.\u201d<br \/>Paul\u2019s mother had her birthday in November. The house had been \u2018whispering\u2019 worse than ever lately, and, even in spite of his luck, Paul could not bear up against it. He was very anxious to see the effect of the birthday letter, telling his mother about the thousand pounds.<br \/>When there were no visitors, Paul now took his meals with his parents, as he was beyond the nursery control. His mother went into town nearly every day. She had discovered that she had an odd knack of sketching furs and dress materials, so she worked secretly in the studio of a friend who was the chief \u2018artist\u2019 for the leading drapers. She drew the figures of ladies in furs and ladies in silk and sequins for the newspaper advertisements. This young woman artist earned several thousand pounds a year, but Paul\u2019s mother only made several hundreds, and she was again dissatisfied. She so wanted to be first in something, and she did not succeed, even in making sketches for drapery advertisements.<br \/>She was down to breakfast on the morning of her birthday. Paul watched her face as she read her letters. He knew the lawyer\u2019s letter. As his mother read it, her face hardened and became more expressionless. Then a cold, determined look came on her mouth. She hid the letter under the pile of others, and said not a word about it.<br \/>\u201cDidn\u2019t you have anything nice in the post for your birthday, mother?\u201d said Paul.<br \/>\u201cQuite moderately nice,\u201d she said, her voice cold and hard and absent.<br \/>She went away to town without saying more.<br \/>But in the afternoon Uncle Oscar appeared. He said Paul\u2019s mother had had a long interview with the lawyer, asking if the whole five thousand could not be advanced at once, as she was in debt.<br \/>\u201cWhat do you think, uncle?\u201d said the boy.<br \/>\u201cI leave it to you, son.\u201d<br \/>\u201cOh, let her have it, then! We can get some more with the other,\u201d said the boy.<br \/>\u201cA bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, laddie!\u201d said Uncle Oscar.<br \/>\u201cBut I\u2019m sure to know for the Grand National; or the Lincolnshire; or else the Derby. I\u2019m sure to know for one of them,\u201d said Paul.<br \/>So Uncle Oscar signed the agreement, and Paul\u2019s mother touched the whole five thousand. Then something very curious happened. The voices in the house suddenly went mad, like a chorus of frogs on a spring evening. There were certain new furnishings, and Paul had a tutor. He was really going to Eton, his father\u2019s school, in the following autumn. There were flowers in the winter, and a blossoming of the luxury Paul\u2019s mother had been used to. And yet the voices in the house, behind the sprays of mimosa and almond-blossom, and from under the piles of iridescent cushions, simply trilled and screamed in a sort of ecstasy: \u201cThere must be more money! Oh-h-h; there must be more money. Oh, now, now-w! Now-w-w \u2013 there must be more money! \u2013 more than ever! More than ever!\u201d<br \/>It frightened Paul terribly. He studied away at his Latin and Greek with his tutor. But his intense hours were spent with Bassett. The Grand National had gone by: he had not \u2018known\u2019, and had lost a hundred pounds. Summer was at hand. He was in agony for the Lincoln. But even for the Lincoln he didn\u2019t \u2018know\u2019, and he lost fifty pounds. He became wild-eyed and strange, as if something were going to explode in him.<br \/>\u201cLet it alone, son! Don\u2019t you bother about it!\u201d urged Uncle Oscar. But it was as if the boy couldn\u2019t really hear what his uncle was saying.<br \/>\u201cI\u2019ve got to know for the Derby! I\u2019ve got to know for the Derby!\u201d the child reiterated, his big blue eyes blazing with a sort of madness.<br \/>His mother noticed how overwrought he was.<br \/>\u201cYou\u2019d better go to the seaside. Wouldn\u2019t you like to go now to the seaside, instead of waiting? I think you\u2019d better,\u201d she said, looking down at him anxiously, her heart curiously heavy because of him.<br \/>But the child lifted his uncanny blue eyes.<br \/>\u201cI couldn\u2019t possibly go before the Derby, mother!\u201d he said. \u201cI couldn\u2019t possibly!\u201d<br \/>\u201cWhy not?\u201d she said, her voice becoming heavy when she was opposed. \u201cWhy not? You can still go from the seaside to see the Derby with your Uncle Oscar, if that that\u2019s what you wish. No need for you to wait here. Besides, I think you care too much about these races. It\u2019s a bad sign. My family has been a gambling family, and you won\u2019t know till you grow up how much damage it has done. But it has done damage. I shall have to send Bassett away, and ask Uncle Oscar not to talk racing to you, unless you promise to be reasonable about it: go away to the seaside and forget it. You\u2019re all nerves!\u201d<br \/>\u201cI\u2019ll do what you like, mother, so long as you don\u2019t send me away till after the Derby,\u201d the boy said.<br \/>\u201cSend you away from where? Just from this house?\u201d<br \/>\u201cYes,\u201d he said, gazing at her.<br \/>\u201cWhy, you curious child, what makes you care about this house so much, suddenly? I never knew you loved it.\u201d<br \/>He gazed at her without speaking. He had a secret within a secret, something he had not divulged, even to Bassett or to his Uncle Oscar.<br \/>But his mother, after standing undecided and a little bit sullen for some moments, said: \u201cVery well, then! Don\u2019t go to the seaside till after the Derby, if you don\u2019t wish it. But promise me you won\u2019t think so much about horse-racing and events as you call them!\u201d<br \/>\u201cOh no,\u201d said the boy casually. \u201cI won\u2019t think much about them, mother. You needn\u2019t worry. I wouldn\u2019t worry, mother, if I were you.\u201d<br \/>\u201cIf you were me and I were you,\u201d said his mother, \u201cI wonder what we should do!\u201d<br \/>\u201cBut you know you needn\u2019t worry, mother, don\u2019t you?\u201d the boy repeated.<br \/>\u201cI should be awfully glad to know it,\u201d she said wearily.<br \/>\u201cOh, well, you can, you know. I mean, you ought to know you needn\u2019t worry,\u201d he insisted.<br \/>\u201cOught I? Then I\u2019ll see about it,\u201d she said.<br \/>Paul\u2019s secret of secrets was his wooden horse, that which had no name. Since he was emancipated from a nurse and a nursery-governess, he had had his rocking-horse removed to his own bedroom at the top of the house.<br \/>\u201cSurely you\u2019re too big for a rocking-horse!\u201d his mother had remonstrated.<br \/>\u201cWell, you see, mother, till I can have a real horse, I like to have some sort of animal about,\u201d had been his quaint answer.<br \/>\u201cDo you feel he keeps you company?\u201d she laughed.<br \/>\u201cOh yes! He\u2019s very good, he always keeps me company, when I\u2019m there,\u201d said Paul.<br \/>So the horse, rather shabby, stood in an arrested prance in the boy\u2019s bedroom.<br \/>The Derby was drawing near, and the boy grew more and more tense. He hardly heard what was spoken to him, he was very frail, and his eyes were really uncanny. His mother had sudden strange seizures of uneasiness about him. Sometimes, for half an hour, she would feel a sudden anxiety about him that was almost anguish. She wanted to rush to him at once, and know he was safe.<br \/>Two nights before the Derby, she was at a big party in town, when one of her rushes of anxiety about her boy, her first-born, gripped her heart till she could hardly speak. She fought with the feeling, might and main, for she believed in common sense. But it was too strong. She had to leave the dance and go downstairs to telephone to the country. The children\u2019s nursery-governess was terribly surprised and startled at being rung up in the night.<br \/>\u201cAre the children all right, Miss Wilmot?\u201d<br \/>\u201cOh yes, they are quite all right.\u201d<br \/>\u201cMaster Paul? Is he all right?\u201d<br \/>\u201cHe went to bed as right as a trivet. Shall I run up and look at him?\u201d<br \/>\u201cNo,\u201d said Paul\u2019s mother reluctantly. \u201cNo! Don\u2019t trouble. It\u2019s all right. Don\u2019t sit up. We shall be home fairly soon.\u201d She did not want her son\u2019s privacy intruded upon.<br \/>\u201cVery good,\u201d said the governess.<br \/>It was about one o\u2019clock when Paul\u2019s mother and father drove up to their house. All was still. Paul\u2019s mother went to her room and slipped off her white fur cloak. She had told her maid not to wait up for her. She heard her husband downstairs, mixing a whisky and soda.<br \/>And then, because of the strange anxiety at her heart, she stole upstairs to her son\u2019s room. Noiselessly she went along the upper corridor. Was there a faint noise? What was it?<br \/>She stood, with arrested muscles, outside his door, listening. There was a strange, heavy, and yet not loud noise. Her heart stood still. It was a soundless noise, yet rushing and powerful. Something huge, in violent, hushed motion. What was it? What in God\u2019s name was it? She ought to know. She felt that she knew the noise. She knew what it was.<br \/>Yet she could not place it. She couldn\u2019t say what it was. And on and on it went, like a madness.<br \/>Softly, frozen with anxiety and fear, she turned the door-handle.<br \/>The room was dark. Yet in the space near the window, she heard and saw something plunging to and fro. She gazed in fear and amazement.<br \/>Then suddenly she switched on the light, and saw her son, in his green pyjamas, madly surging on the rocking-horse. The blaze of light suddenly lit him up, as he urged the wooden horse, and lit her up, as she stood, blonde, in her dress of pale green and crystal, in the doorway.<br \/>\u201cPaul!\u201d she cried. \u201cWhatever are you doing?\u201d<br \/>\u201cIt\u2019s Malabar!\u201d he screamed in a powerful, strange voice. \u201cIt\u2019s Malabar!\u201d<br \/>His eyes blazed at her for one strange and senseless second, as he ceased urging his wooden horse. Then he fell with a crash to the ground, and she, all her tormented motherhood flooding upon her, rushed to gather him up.<br \/>But he was unconscious, and unconscious he remained, with some brain-fever. He talked and tossed, and his mother sat stonily by his side.<br \/>\u201cMalabar! It\u2019s Malabar! Bassett, Bassett, I know! It\u2019s Malabar!\u201d<br \/>So the child cried, trying to get up and urge the rocking-horse that gave him his inspiration.<br \/>\u201cWhat does he mean by Malabar?\u201d asked the heart-frozen mother.<br \/>\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d said the father stonily.<br \/>\u201cWhat does he mean by Malabar?\u201d she asked her brother Oscar.<br \/>\u201cIt\u2019s one of the horses running for the Derby,\u201d was the answer.<br \/>And, in spite of himself, Oscar Cresswell spoke to Bassett, and himself put a thousand on Malabar: at fourteen to one.<br \/>The third day of the illness was critical: they were waiting for a change. The boy, with his rather long, curly hair, was tossing ceaselessly on the pillow. He neither slept nor regained consciousness, and his eyes were like blue stones. His mother sat, feeling her heart had gone, turned actually into a stone.<br \/>In the evening Oscar Cresswell did not come, but Bassett sent a message, saying could he come up for one moment, just one moment? Paul\u2019s mother was very angry at the intrusion, but on second thoughts she agreed. The boy was the same. Perhaps Bassett might bring him to consciousness.<br \/>The gardener, a shortish fellow with a little brown moustache and sharp little brown eyes, tiptoed into the room, touched his imaginary cap to Paul\u2019s mother, and stole to the bedside, staring with glittering, smallish eyes at the tossing, dying child.<br \/>\u201cMaster Paul!\u201d he whispered. \u201cMaster Paul! Malabar came in first all right, a clean win. I did as you told me. You\u2019ve made over seventy thousand pounds, you have; you\u2019ve got over eighty thousand. Malabar came in all right, Master Paul.\u201d<br \/>\u201cMalabar! Malabar! Did I say Malabar, mother? Did I say Malabar? Do you think I\u2019m lucky, mother? I knew Malabar, didn\u2019t I? Over eighty thousand pounds! I call that lucky, don\u2019t you, mother? Over eighty thousand pounds! I knew, didn\u2019t I know I knew? Malabar came in all right. If I ride my horse till I\u2019m sure, then I tell you, Bassett, you can go as high as you like. Did you go for all you were worth, Bassett?\u201d<br \/>\u201cI went a thousand on it, Master Paul.\u201d<br \/>\u201cI never told you, mother, that if I can ride my horse, and get there, then I\u2019m absolutely sure \u2013 oh, absolutely! Mother, did I ever tell you? I am lucky!\u201d<br \/>\u201cNo, you never did,\u201d said his mother.<br \/>But the boy died in the night.<br \/>And even as he lay dead, his mother heard her brother\u2019s voice saying to her, \u201cMy God, Hester, you\u2019re eighty-odd thousand to the good, and a poor devil of a son to the bad. But, poor devil, poor devil, he\u2019s best gone out of a life where he rides his rocking-horse to find a winner.\u201d<\/p>\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading has-text-align-center\">Best D. H Lawrence Books to Read<\/h2>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/3WFWRYJ\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/3YCY2KX\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/3WTxe82\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/4cd9d04\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><br \/>\nClick on the image to buy a copy<\/p>\n<p>If you enjoyed The Rocking Horse Winner by D. H. Lawrence check out <a href=\"https:\/\/quizlit.org\/the-last-laugh-by-d-h-lawrence\">The Last Laugh by D. H. Lawrence.<\/a><\/p>\n<p>Narrated by Ben Tucker, courtesy of Librivox<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The Rocking Horse Winner by D. H. Lawrence was first published in July 1926, in Harper\u2019s Bazaar and subsequently appeared in the first volume of Lawrence\u2019s collected short stories. This post may contain affiliate links that earn us a commission at no extra cost to you. The Rocking Horse Winner by D. H. Lawrence The [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":0,"featured_media":5706,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5705","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-bookreviews"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5705"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=5705"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5705\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/5706"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=5705"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=5705"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=5705"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}