HER FIRST HORSE SHOW

HER FIRST HORSE SHOW
By DAVID GRAY

She folded the program carefully for preservation in her memory-book, and devoured the scene with her eyes. It was hard to believe, but unquestionably Angelica Stanton, in the flesh, was in Madison Square Garden at the horse show. The great arena was crowded; the band was playing, and a four-in-hand was swinging around the tan-bark ring.

What had been her dream since she put away her dolls and the flea-bitten pony was realized. The pony had been succeeded by Lady Washington, and with Lady Washington opened the epoch when she began to hunt with the grown-up people and to reflect upon the outside world. From what she had gathered from the men in the hunting-field, the outside world seemed to center in the great horse show, and most of what was interesting and delightful in life took place there.

Besides the obvious profit of witnessing this institution, there had arisen, later on, more serious considerations which led Angelica to take an interest in it. Since the disappearance of Lady Washington and the failure to trace her, Angelica’s hope was in the show.

One of the judges who had visited Jim had unwittingly laid the bases of this hope. “All the best performers in America are exhibited there,” he had said in the course of an interminable discussion upon the great subject. And was not Lady Washington probably the best? Clearly, therefore, soon or late Lady Washington would be found winning blue ribbons at Madison Square Garden.

To this cheering conclusion the doubting Thomas within her replied that so desirable a miracle could never be; and she cherished the doubt, though rather to provoke contrary fate into refuting it than because it embodied her convictions. She knew that some day Lady Washington must come back.

118After Jim had sold Lady Washington, he had been informed by Chloe, the parlor-maid, how Angelica felt, and he repented his act. He had tried to buy the mare back, but the man to whom he had sold her had sold her to a dealer, and he had sold her to somebody who had gone abroad, and no one knew what this person had done with her. So Lady Washington had disappeared, and Angelica mourned for her. Two years passed, two years that were filled with doubt and disappointment. Each autumn Jim went North with his horses, but never suggested taking Angelica. As for Angelica, the subject was too near her heart for her to broach it. Thus it seemed that life was slipping away, harshly withholding opportunity.

That November, for reasons of his own, Jim decided to take Angelica along with him. When he told her of his intention, she gasped, but made no demonstration. On the threshold of fulfilling her hope she was afraid to exult: she knew how things are snatched away the moment one begins to count upon them; but inwardly she was happy to the point of apprehension. On the trip North she “knocked wood” scrupulously every time she was lured into a day-dream which pictured the finding of Lady Washington, and thus she gave the evil forces of destiny no opening.

The first hour of the show overwhelmed her. It was too splendid and mystifying to be comprehended immediately, or to permit a divided attention. Even Lady Washington dropped out of her thoughts, but only until the jumping classes began. The first hunter that trotted across the tan-bark brought her back to her quest.

But after two days the mystery was no more a mystery, and the splendor had faded out. The joy of it had faded out, too. For two days she had pored over the entry-lists and had studied every horse that entered the ring; but the search for Lady Washington had been a vain one. Furthermore, all the best horses by this time had appeared in some class, and the chances of Lady Washington’s turning up seemed infinitesimal. Reluctantly she gave up hope. She explained it to herself that probably there had been a moment of vainglorious pride when she had neglected to “knock wood.” She would 119have liked to discuss it with somebody; but Chloe and her colored mammy, who understood such matters, were at the “Pines” in Virginia, and Jim would probably laugh at her; so she maintained silence and kept her despair to herself.

It was the evening of the third day, and she was at the show again, dressed in her habit, because she was going to ride. Her brother was at the other end of the Garden, hidden by a row of horses. He was waiting to show in a class of park hacks. There was nothing in it that looked like Lady Washington, and she turned her eyes away from the ring with a heavy heart. The band had stopped playing, and there was no one to talk to but her aunt’s maid, and this maid was not companionable. She fell to watching the people in the boxes; she wished that she knew some of them. There was a box just below her which looked attractive. There were two pretty women in it, and some men who looked as if they were nice; they were laughing and seemed to be having a good time. She wished she was with them, or home, or anywhere else than where she was.

Presently the music struck up again; the hum of the innumerable voices took a higher pitch. The ceaseless current of promenaders staring and bowing at the boxes went slowly around and around. Nobody paid any attention to the horses, but all jostled and chattered and craned their necks to see the people. When her brother’s Redgauntlet took the blue ribbon in the heavy-weight green-hunter class, not a person in the whole Garden applauded except herself. She heard a man ask, “What took the blue?” And she heard his friend answer, “Southern horse, I believe; don’t know the owner.” They didn’t even know Jim! She would have left the place and gone back to her aunt’s for a comfortable cry, but she was going to ride Hilda in the ladies’ saddle class, which came toward the end of the evening.

The next thing on the program were some qualified hunters which might be expected to show some good jumping. This was something to be thankful for, and she turned her attention to the ring.

120“I think I’ll go down on the floor,” she said to the maid. “I’m tired of sitting still.”

In theory Miss Angelica Stanton was at the horse show escorted by her brother; but in fact she was in the custody of Caroline, the maid of her aunt Henrietta Cushing, who lived in Washington Square. Miss Cushing was elderly, and she disapproved of the horse show because her father had been a charter member of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and because to go to it in the afternoon interfered with her drive and with her tea, while to go to it in the evening interfered with her whist, and that was not to be thought of. Consequently, when Angelica arrived, the horse show devolved upon Caroline, who accepted the situation not altogether with resignation. She had done Miss Cushing’s curls for twenty years, and had absorbed her views.

Angelica would have preferred stopping at the hotel with Jim; but that, he said, was out of the question. Jim admitted that Aunt Henrietta was never intentionally entertaining, but he said that Angelica needed her womanly influence. Jim had brought up Angelica, and the problem sometimes seemed a serious one. She was now sixteen, and he was satisfied that she was going to be a horsewoman, but at times he doubted whether his training was adequate in other respects, and that was why he had brought her to the horse show and had incarcerated her at Aunt Henrietta’s.

The girl led Caroline through the crowd, and took a position at the end, between the first and last jumps. As the horses were shown, they went round the ring, came back, and finished in front of them. It was the best place from which to watch, if one wished to see the jumping.

Angelica admitted to herself that some of the men rode pretty well, but not as well as some of the men rode at their out-of-door shows at home; and the tan-bark was not as good as turf. It was a large class, and after eight or ten had been shown, a striking-looking black mare came out of the line and started plunging and rearing toward the first jump. Her rider faced her at the bars, and she minced reluctantly forward. 121Just before they reached the wings the man struck her. She stopped short and whirled back into the ring.

From the time the black mare appeared Angelica’s heart almost stopped beating. “I’m sure of it, I’m sure of it!” she gasped. “Three white feet and the star. Caroline,” she said, “that’s Lady Washington. He oughtn’t to strike her. He mustn’t!”

“Hush, miss,” said Caroline. “We’ll be conspicuous.”

The man was bringing the mare back toward the jump. As before, he used his whip, intending to drive her into the wings, and, as before, she stopped, reared angrily, wheeled about, and came back plunging. The man quieted her after a little, and turned her again toward the hurdle. It was his last chance. She came up sulkily, tossing her head and edging away from the bars. As he got near the wings he raised his whip again. Then the people in that part of the Garden heard a girl’s shrill, excited voice cry out: “You mustn’t hit her! Steady, Lady Washington! Drop your curb!” The black mare’s ears went forward at the sound of the voice. The young man on her back put down his uplifted whip and loosened the rein on the bit. He glanced around with an embarrassed smile, and the next instant he was over the jump, and the mare was galloping for the hurdle beyond.

Suddenly Angelica became conscious that several thousand people were staring at her with looks of wonder and amusement. Caroline clutched her arm and dragged her away from the rail. The girl colored, and shook herself free.

“I don’t care,” she said. “He shouldn’t have hit her. She can jump anything if she’s ridden right. I knew we’d find her,” she muttered excitedly. “I knew it!”

Caroline struggled desperately through the crowd with her charge.

“Whatever will Miss Cushing say!” she gasped.

Angelica forgot the crowd. “I don’t care,” she said. “If Aunt Henrietta had ever owned Lady Washington she’d have done the same thing. And if you tell her I’ll pay you back. She’ll know that you let me leave my seat, and she told you not to.” This silenced Caroline.

122“There! He’s fussed her mouth again,” she went on. The black mare had refused, and was rearing at the jump next the last. The girl stood on tiptoe and watched impatiently for a moment.

“There she goes,” she murmured, with a sigh. The judges had ordered the horse out.

Angelica tagged along disconsolately through the crowd till a conversation between two men who were leaning against the rail caught her ear.

“I wonder who that little girl was,” said one. “The mare seemed to know her voice, but Reggie doesn’t call her Lady Washington.”

“No—Hermione,” said the other. “He may have changed it, though,” he added. “He gives them all names beginning with H.”

“You’ll have an easy time beating him in the five-foot-six jumps,” said the first man. “It’s a good mare, but he can’t ride her.”

Angelica wondered who they were, but they turned around just then, and she dropped her eyes and hurried after Caroline.

As they made their way through the crowd, a nudge from the maid took her thoughts from Lady Washington. She had been wondering how she would find the young man who had ridden her. She looked up and saw that a man was bowing to her. It was Mr. “Billy” Livingstone. Mr. Livingstone was nearly sixty, but he had certain qualities of permanent youth which made him “Billy” to three generations.

“Hello, Angelica!” he exclaimed. “When did you turn up? How you’ve grown!”

“I came up North with Jim,” she replied.

“You should have let me know,” he said. “You know Jim never writes any one. This is the first time I’ve been here. I’m just back from the country. Where’s your box—that is, who are you with?”

“I’m here with my maid,” said Angelica, with a somewhat conscious dignity. “Jim is with the horses.”

123Livingstone looked from the slender girl to the substantial Caroline, and the corners of his mouth twitched.

“I prefer to be alone this way,” she explained. “It’s more independent.”

Mr. Livingstone thought a moment. “Of course that’s so,” he said. “But I think I’ve got a better plan; let’s hunt up Mrs. Dicky Everett.”

“Is she an old woman?” asked Angelica.

“Not so terribly old,” said Mr. Livingstone. “I suppose you’d call her middle-aged.”

“Thirty?” asked Angelica.

“Near it, I’m afraid,” he answered.

“Well, I don’t know,” said Angelica. “That’s pretty old. She won’t have anything to say to me.”

“She knows something about a horse,” said Livingstone, “though, of course, she can’t ride the way you do. If you find her stupid, I’ll take you away; but I want you to come because she will be very nice to me for bringing you.”

He turned to Caroline. “I’m a friend of Miss Stanton’s brother. Go to your seat, and I’ll bring Miss Stanton back to you.”

Then he led the way up the stairs, and Angelica followed, wondering what sort of person Mrs. “Dicky” Everett might be.

She cheered herself with the thought that she could not be any older or more depressing than Aunt Henrietta, and if she was fond of horses she might know who owned Lady Washington.

Livingstone consulted his program. “It’s down on this side,” he said. She followed him mechanically, with her eyes wandering toward the ring, till presently they stopped.

“Hello!” she heard them call to Livingstone, as he stepped in ahead of her, and the next moment she realized that she was in the very box which she had watched from her seat among the chairs.

“I want to present you to my friend Miss Stanton,” Livingstone said. He repeated the names, but they made no 124impression upon her, because there, standing in front of her, was the young man who had ridden Lady Washington.

“You seem to know each other,” said Livingstone. “Am I wasting my breath? Is this a joke?”

He looked at Angelica. She was speechless with mixed joy and embarrassment.

“Come here, my dear,” said one of the two pretty women, “and sit down beside me. Miss Stanton,” she went on to Livingstone, “very kindly tried to teach Reggie how to ride Hermione, and we are glad to have the chance to thank her.”

“I don’t understand at all,” said Livingstone. “But there are so many things that I shall never understand that one more makes no difference.”

Angelica’s self-confidence began to come back.

“Why, he was riding Lady Washington with a whip,” she explained. “And I just called out to him not to. You remember Lady Washington,—she was a four-year-old when you were at the Pines,—and you know you never could touch her with a whip.”

“I remember very well,” said Livingstone. “You flattered me by offering to let me ride her, an offer which, I think, I declined. When did you sell her?”

“Two years ago,” said Angelica.

Then the other young woman spoke. “But how did you recognize the horse?” she asked. “You haven’t seen it for two years.”

“Recognize her!” exclaimed Angelica. “I guess if you had ever owned Lady Washington you would have recognized her. I broke her as a two-year-old, and schooled her myself. Jim says she’s the best mare we ever had.” Angelica looked at the woman pityingly. She was sweet-looking and had beautiful clothes, but she was evidently a goose.

“Miss Stanton won the high jump with the mare,” Livingstone remarked, “at their hunt show down in Virginia.”

“It was only six feet,” said the girl, “but she can do better than that. Jim wouldn’t let me ride her at anything bigger.”

“I should hope not,” said the lady by whose side she was 125sitting. Then she asked suddenly, “You are not Jimmie Stanton’s sister?”

“Yes,” said Angelica.

“I’d like to know why he hasn’t brought you to see me!”

“He’s awfully busy with the horses,” the girl replied. “He has to stop at the Waldorf and see about the show with the men, and he makes me stay with Aunt Henrietta Cushing.” She stopped abruptly. She was afraid that what she had said might sound disloyal. “I like to stop with Aunt Henrietta,” she added solemnly. “Besides, I’ve been busy looking for Lady Washington.”

The young man whom they called Reggie, together with Mr. Livingstone and the lady beside Angelica, laughed openly at this allusion to Miss Cushing.

“Do you know her?” asked Angelica.

“Oh, everybody knows your Aunt Henrietta,” said the lady.

“And loves her,” added Livingstone, solemnly.

The lady laughed a little. “You see, she’s connected with nearly everybody. She’s a sort of connection of Reggie’s and mine, so I suppose we’re sort of cousins of yours. I hope you will like us.”

“I don’t know much about my relations on my mother’s side,” Angelica observed. The distinction between connections and relatives had never been impressed upon her. She was about to add that Jim said that his New York relatives tired him, but caught herself. She paused uneasily.

“Please excuse me,” she said, “but I didn’t hear Mr. Livingstone introduce me to you.”

“Why,” said Livingstone, who overheard, “this is Mrs. Everett. I told you we were coming into her box.

“I thought she must have stepped out,” said Angelica. “You told me she was middle-aged.”

A peal of laughter followed.

“Angelica! Angelica!” Livingstone exclaimed.

“But you did,” said Angelica. “I asked you if she was an old lady, and you said, ‘Not so terribly old—middle-aged.’ And she’s not; she’s young.”

126“Things can never be as they were before,” said Livingstone, mournfully, as the laughter died away.

“No,” said Mrs. Everett.

There was a pause, and one of the men turned to Reggie. “What are you going to do about the five-foot-six jumps?”

“Let it go,” said Reggie.

“It’s a pity,” said the other. “If you had met Miss Stanton earlier in the evening, I think she could have taught you to ride that mare. I wanted to see you win your bet.”

“Bet?” said Livingstone.

“Reggie’s such an idiot,” said Mrs. Everett. “He bet Tommy Post that Hermione would beat his chestnut in the five-foot-six jumps, and Reggie can’t make Hermione jump at all, so he’s lost.”

“Not yet; I’ve got a chance,” said Reggie, good-naturedly. “Perhaps I’ll go in, after all.” The other men laughed.

“I should think you had made monkey enough of yourself for one evening,” observed Palfrey, who was his best friend and could say such things.

“Five feet six would be easy for Lady Washington,” said Angelica. “I can’t get used to calling her by that new name.” She hesitated a moment with embarrassment, and then she stammered: “Why don’t you let me ride her?”

The people in the box looked aghast.

“I’m afraid it wouldn’t do,” said Reggie, seriously. “It’s awfully good of you, but, you see, it wouldn’t look well to put a lady on that horse. Suppose something should happen?”

“Good of me!” the girl exclaimed. “I’d love it! I want to ride her again so much!”

“Well,” said Reggie, “I’ll have her at the park for you tomorrow morning. You can ride her whenever you like.”

A low cry of alarm ran through the Garden, and the conversation in the box hushed. A tandem cart had tipped over, and the wheeler was kicking it to pieces.

“I don’t like that sort of thing,” said Mrs. Everett, with a shudder.

They finally righted the trap, and the driver limped off to 127show that he was not hurt. The great crowd seemed to draw a long breath of relief, and the even hum of voices went on again. The judges began to award the ribbons, and Angelica looked down at her program.

“Dear me!” she exclaimed. “The saddle class I’m going to ride in is next. I’m afraid I’ll be late. Good-by.”

“Good-by,” they all replied.

“Don’t you come,” she said to Livingstone. “It’s just a step.”

“I must keep my word with Caroline,” he answered, and he took her to her seat.

“She’s immense, isn’t she?” he said, as he came back. “I’m glad Reggie didn’t let her ride that brute. She will be killed one of these days.”

“She’s going to be a great beauty,” said Mrs. Everett.

“She looks like her blessed mother,” said Livingstone. “I was very fond of her mother. I think that if it hadn’t been for Stanton—”

“Stop!” interrupted Mrs. Everett. “Your heart-tragedies are too numerous. Besides, if you had married her you wouldn’t be here trying to tell us why you didn’t.” And they all laughed, and cheerfully condemned the judging of the tandem class.

The negro groom who had come up with the Stanton horses met Angelica as she was going down-stairs into the basement where the stalls were. Jim had not appeared, so Angelica and Caroline had started off alone.

“Hilda’s went lame behind, Miss Angie,” the man said. “She must have cast huhself. They ain’t no use to show huh.”

Ordinarily this calamity would have disturbed Angelica, but the discovery of Lady Washington was a joy which could not be dimmed.

“Have you told my brother?” she asked.

“Yes, Miss Angie,” said the man. “He was gwine to tell you.”

“I want to see her,” said Angelica, and they went on 128toward the stall. But what Angelica most wanted was to get among the horses and look for a certain black mare.

Hilda was very lame, and there was fever in the hock. Angelica patted her neck, and turned away with a side glance at Caroline, who, she feared, would rebel at being led through the horses’ quarters. She walked down the row of stalls till she came to the corner, then up through another passage till she stopped at a big box-stall over the side of which stretched a black head set on a long, thoroughbred-looking neck.

The small, fine ears, the width between the eyes, the square little muzzle, were familiar; and there was a white star on the forehead. But Angelica did not enumerate these things. Horses to her had personalities and faces, just as people had them. She recognized Lady Washington as she had recognized Mr. Livingstone. She made a little exclamation, and, standing on tiptoe, put her arms about the mare’s neck, and kissed it again and again.

“The dear! She remembers me!” the girl said, wiping her eyes. “It’s Lady Washington,” she explained to Caroline. She reached up to fondle the little muzzle, and the mare nipped playfully.

“Look out, miss,” called the stable-boy, who was sitting on a soap-box; “she’s mean.”

“She’s no such thing,” said the girl.

“Oh, ain’t she?” said the boy.

“Well, if she is, you made her so,” retorted Angelica.

The boy grinned. “I ain’t only been in the stable two weeks,” he said. “She caught me on the second day and nigh broke me leg. You see her act in the ring? Mr. Haughton says he won’t ride her no more, and she’s entered in the five-foot-six jumps.”

The girl looked thoughtfully at the boy and then at the horse. An idea had come to her. She was reflecting upon the last words Mr. Haughton had spoken before she left the box: “You can ride her whenever you like.”

“I know,” she said aloud. “I’m going to ride her in that class. I’m Miss Stanton. I used to own her, you know. My 129saddle is down there with Mr. Stanton’s horses, and I want you to go and get it.”

“Oh, never, Miss Angelica!” exclaimed Caroline. “Dear me, not that!”

“You hush,” said Angelica.

The stable-boy looked at her incredulously. “I ain’t had no orders, miss,” he said. “I’ll have to see William. Did Mr. Haughton say you might?”

“Of course he said I might,” she replied.

The boy said no more and went off after William.

“Of course he said I might,” she repeated half aloud. “Didn’t he say I might ride her ‘whenever I wanted to’? ‘Whenever’ is any time, and I want to now.” She fortified herself behind this sophistry, but she was all in a flutter lest Jim or Mr. Haughton should appear. The thought, however, of being on Lady Washington’s back, and showing people that she wasn’t sulky and bad-tempered, was a temptation too strong to be resisted.

The boy came back with the head groom, to whom he had explained the matter.

“Why, miss,” said William, “she’d kill you. I wouldn’t want to show her myself. Mr. Haughton, miss, must have been joking. Honest, miss, you couldn’t ride Hermione.” The man was respectful but firm.

“Think what Miss Cushing would say,” said Caroline.

“But I tell you I can,” retorted Angelica. She paid no attention to Caroline; her temper flashed up. “You don’t seem to understand. I owned that mare when she was Lady Washington, and broke her all myself, and schooled her, too. Mr. Haughton hasn’t any ‘hands,’ and he ought to know better than to raise a whip on her.”

William grinned at the unvarnished statement about his master’s “hands.”

“Are you the young lady what called out to him in the ring?” he asked.

“Yes, I am,” said Angelica. “And if he’d done what I told him to she would have won. Here’s our Emanuel,” she 130went on. “He’ll tell you I can ride her. Emanuel,” she demanded, as the negro approached, “haven’t I ridden Lady Washington?”

“You jest have, Miss Angie,” said Emanuel. “Why,” said he, turning to William, “this heah young lady have rode that maah ovah six feet. She done won the high jump at ouah hunt show. That’s Lady Washington all right,” he went on, looking at the head poked out over the stall. “I got huh maahk on mah ahm foh to remembah huh.”

The stable-boy grinned.

“Well, she never bit me,” said Angelica.

“The young lady,” said William, doubtfully, “wants to ride her in the five-foot-six class. She says Mr. Haughton said she might.”

“Oh, Miss Angelica,” interposed Caroline, “you’ll be kilt!”

“You’re a goose,” said Angelica. “I’ve ridden her hundreds of times.”

“I don’t know how Mistah Jim would like it,” said Emanuel; “but she could ride that maah all right, you jest bet.”

William was getting interested. He was not so concerned about Mr. Stanton’s likes as he was that his stable should take some ribbons.

“Mr. Haughton said you might ride her?” he repeated.

“Of course he did,” said Angelica; “I just left him in Mrs. Everett’s box, and I’ve got my own saddle and everything.”

“All right, miss,” said William. “Get the saddle, Tim.”

William did not believe that Mr. Haughton had given any such orders, but he had gotten into trouble not long before by refusing to give a mount to a friend of Haughton’s whom he did not know and who came armed only with verbal authority. He knew that if any harm was done he could hide behind that occurrence.

“I want a double-reined snaffle,” said Angelica. “Emanuel,” she added, “you have the bit I used to ride her with. Bring my own bridle.”

“I’m afraid you won’t be able to hold her, miss,” muttered William; “but it’s as you say. Hurry up with that saddle,” 131he called to the stable-boy. “We ain’t got no time to lose. They’re callin’ the class now. You’re number two, miss; I’ll get your number for you.”

“You’ll be kilt! You’ll be kilt!” said Caroline, dolefully. “Think what Miss Cushing will say!”

“Caroline,” said Angelica, “you don’t know anything about horses, so you hush.” And then she added under her breath, “If I can only get started before Jim sees me!”

In the Everett box they were waiting for the five-foot-six class to begin. They called it the five-foot-six class because there were four jumps that were five feet six inches high; the others were an even five feet. It was the “sensational event” of the evening. Thus far the show had been dull.

“Those saddle-horses were an ordinary lot,” observed Reggie.

“This isn’t opening very well, either,” said Palfrey. The first horse had started out by refusing. Then he floundered into the jump and fell.

“Let’s not wait,” said Mrs. Everett. But the words were hardly spoken when, with a quick movement, she turned her glasses on the ring. Something unusual was going on at the farther end. A ripple of applause came down the sides of the Garden, and then she saw a black horse, ridden by a girl, come cantering toward the starting-place.

“It’s that child on Hermione! You must stop it, Reggie!” she exclaimed excitedly.

Before any one could move, Angelica had turned the horse toward the first jump. It looked terribly high to Mrs. Everett. It was almost even with the head of the man who was standing on the farther side ready to replace the bars if they should be knocked down.

Tossing her head playfully, the black mare galloped steadily for the wings, took off in her stride, and swept over the jump in a long curve. She landed noiselessly on the tan-bark, and was on again. Around the great ring went the horse and the girl, steadily, not too fast, and taking each jump without a mistake. The great crowd remained breathless and expectant. 132Horse and rider finished in front of the Everett box, and pulled up to a trot, the mare breathing hard with excitement, but well-mannered.

Then a storm of cheers and hand-clapping burst, the like of which was never heard at a New York horse show before.

As the applause died away, Reggie rose and hurried out. “Let’s all go,” said Mrs. Everett.

Before they got through the crowd the judges had awarded the ribbons. There were only three other horses that went over all the jumps, and none of them made a clean score. There was no question about which was first. The judges ran their hands down the mare’s legs in a vain search for lumps. She was short-coupled, with a beautiful shoulder and powerful quarters. She had four crosses of thoroughbred, and showed it.

“She’s a picture mare,” said one of the judges, and he tied the blue rosette to her bridle himself. Then the great crowd cheered and clapped again, and Angelica rode down to the entrance as calmly as if she were in the habit of taking blue ribbons daily. But inside she was not calm.

“I’ve got to cry or something,” she thought.

At the gate some one came out of the crowd and took the mare by the head. Angelica looked down, and there were her brother and Reggie and Mrs. Everett’s party. The Garden began to swim.

“Oh, Jim!” she murmured, “help me down. It’s Lady Washington.” Then she threw her arms around his neck and wept.

They were at supper in the old Waldorf Palm Room before Angelica was quite certain whether actual facts had been taking place or whether she had been dreaming. It seemed rather too extraordinary and too pleasant to be true. Still, she was sure that she was there, because the people stared at her when she came in dressed in her habit, and whispered to each other about her. Furthermore, a party of judges came over and asked Mrs. Everett to present them.

133There never before was quite such an evening. It was after twelve, at least, and nobody had suggested that she ought to be in bed. One pleasant thing followed another in quick succession, and there seemed no end to them. She was absorbed in an edible rapture which Mrs. Everett called a “café parfait” when she became aware that Reggie’s friend, Mr. Palfrey, had started to address the party. She only half listened, because she was wondering why every one except Mrs. Everett and herself had denied himself this delightful sweet. Grown-up people had strange tastes.

Mr. Palfrey began by saying that he thought it was time to propose a toast in honor of Miss Stanton, which might also rechristen Reggie’s mare by her first and true name, “Lady Washington.” He said that it was plain to him that the mare had resented a strange name out of Greek mythology, and in future would go kindly, particularly if Reggie never tried to ride her again.

He went on with his remarks, and from time to time the people interrupted with laughter; but it was only a meaningless sound in Angelica’s ears. The words “Reggie’s mare” had come like a blow in the face. She had forgotten about that. Her knees grew weak and a lump swelled in her throat. It was true, of course, but for the time being it had passed out of her mind. And now that Lady Washington had won the five-foot-six class and was so much admired, probably Jim could not afford to buy her back. It was doubtful if Mr. Haughton would sell her at any price.

Presently she was aroused by a remark addressed directly to her.

“I think that’s a good idea,” said Reggie. “Don’t you?”

She nodded; but she did not know what the idea was, and she did not trust her voice to ask.

“Only,” he continued, turning to Palfrey, “it isn’t my mare any more; it’s Miss Stanton’s. Put that in, Palfrey.”

Angelica’s mouth opened in wonderment and her heart stood still. She looked about the table blankly.

134“It’s so,” said Reggie; “she’s yours.”

“But I can’t take her,” she said falteringly. “She’s too valuable. Can I, Jim?”

“But Jim’s bought her,” said Reggie, hurriedly.

Angelica’s eyes settled on her brother’s face; he said nothing, but began to smile; Reggie was kicking him under the table.

“Yes,” said Reggie; “when I saw you ride Lady Washington, that settled it with me. I’m too proud to stand being beaten by a girl; so I made Jim buy her back and promise to give her to you.”

“Do you mean it?” said Angelica. “Is Lady Washington really mine?”

“Yes,” he said.

She dropped her hands in her lap and sighed wearily. “It doesn’t seem possible,” she murmured. She paused and seemed to be running over the situation in her mind. Presently she spoke as if unaware that the others were listening. “I knew it would happen, though,” she said. “I knew it. I reckon I prayed enough.” She smiled as a great thrill of happiness ran through her, and glancing up, saw that all the rest were smiling, too.

“I’m so happy,” she said apologetically. Then she bethought herself, and furtively reached down and tapped the frame of her chair with her knuckles.

“Well, here’s the toast,” said Mr. Palfrey, rising. “To the lady and Lady Washington.” And they all rose and drank it standing.