“Auntie Pheasant and Maurice would go with me, in the car.”
Alayne was losing patience. She said, “Now, let us have an end to this. I forbid you to go.”
Adeline’s breast heaved. She gave a hard sob, then controlled herself. “Just this once,” she pleaded.
“At the next show it would be just the same.”
“It’s almost the end of the season.”
“You are getting behind with your school work.”
“Who cares!” Adeline cried, defiantly.
“Now you are being just stupid,” Alayne said coldly. “I care. Your father cares very much. You think because he likes to see you ride, that your riding is most important to him but he is anxious to see you well educated. I think I have made a mistake in letting you have his room. Because it is covered with pictures of horses and trophies, you have got the idea that he cares for little else! You are quite mistaken. He admires culture in a woman and, I may tell you, he admired it in me.”
Roma kept blowing on the finger she had dipped in the iodine. Alayne asked irritably:
“Why do you do that?”
“It stings.”
Roma held up the finger.
“I can see no cut.”
“It’s under the nail.”
“I think you are making an unnecessary fuss over it.”
Roma’s eyes grew large, as they did when she was reproved.
Alayne had had to turn from Adeline. There had been something in her face that had the power of rousing a desire to hurt her, not physically but by a calculated thrust against her personal egotism. Now Alayne, her hand on the door knob, turned away.
“Tidy this room. I must go to Archer,” she said and left.
Archer threw Adeline’s pullover from under the bed, then crept out, got stiffly to his feet like an old man, and walked over the pullover. He went to the window and observed:
“I see three men in a car going to the stable.”
Adeline leaped to his side.
“It’s Mr. Crowdy and Mr. Chase!” she cried excitedly. “They’ve brought a man to see Rosina. They said they would. Wright and I’ve been expecting him all the week!”
She snatched her pullover from the floor and dragged it over her head. She pulled up her breeches and tightened her belt.
“I’m coming too,” said Roma.
“No. You stay and tidy the room. Tell Mummy I’m studying. I’ll buy you a big chocolate bar tomorrow. I’ve got to see these men.”
“I’m coming,” declared Archer.
She turned to him fiercely. “No!’ She ran lightly down the stairs and out of the house. The three dogs were waiting outside. When she opened the door the little Cairn terrier darted into the house and up to Nicholas’ room but the other two ran with Adeline to the stables, the bobtailed sheepdog in loose shaggy movements, the bulldog solidly, with sturdy purpose.
The stable was brightly lighted by the electric lights, though outside the Western sky was still aflame. The four men were in Rosina’s loose box. She was a delicately made mare who could be intractable when things did not go to please her. She moved toward Adeline as she entered, as though to tell her that at this moment she was not too well pleased.
“Here’s my young lady,” said Wright, and the other three took off their hats.
One of them was a stranger to Adeline but the others she had known as long as she could remember. Chase was a lawyer who had been too indifferent to his profession to succeed in it. He had drifted quite naturally into the profession of horse dealing. He did not make a very good living at it but he was a single man who wanted little. If it had not been for his friend, Crowdy, he might often have been in financial straights, but Crowdy had the flair for picking a likely horse at a low cost, while Chase supplied the gentlemanly element that carried many a deal through. Now, with ceremony, he introduced the somewhat nervous buyer to Adeline.
“This young lady,” he said, “knows as much about horseflesh as any man. She’s carrying on the business with Wright here, while her father, Colonel Whiteoak, is overseas.”
“She,” declared Crowdy, “is a one in all respects.”
Adeline gravely shook hands with the stranger.
“Welcome to our stables,” she said, as she had heard her father say.
“This here gentleman,” said Wright, “has come to look at Rosina. He likes her looks but he thinks she’s high-strung. He’s buying for a lady friend who’s not much of a rider.”
“She’s as nervous,” said the stranger, “as seven thousand cats.”
Adeline gravely considered this. Then, “This is her horse,” she said. “Your lady friend couldn’t fall off her if she tried. Any more than she could fall off a rocking chair.”
“And she’s pretty as a picture,” put in Chase.
“And dirt cheap at the price,” added Crowdy. “Did you say to me the other day that someone has an option on her?”
“Well, no,” answered Adeline, “not exactly an option. But he’s coming back tomorrow.”
“Well, well, tomorrow, you say? Would you mind telling me his name?”
Adeline turned to Wright. “What is his name, Wright?”
“Miller,” answered Wright. “In the brewery business.”
“Would that be R.G. Miller?” asked the stranger.
“No, sir. This is J. J. Miller.”
“John James,” amended Adeline.
“A large portly man,” said Chase, “with a cast in his left eye.”
Crowdy tapped the thick palm of his left hand with the forefinger of his right. “My God, sir, I caution you, don’t let that man buy her. Your lady friend will never forgive you. You’ll miss the chance of a lifetime. I have no personal interest in this sale, mind you. I only do what I can to help Colonel Whiteoak who is off fighting his country’s battles while we’re safe at home.”
“That’s the truth,” said Wright, “and it comes from one who has ridden her in half-a-dozen shows.”
“Perhaps your lady friend doesn’t want a real show horse.” As Adeline spoke, a remote look came over her face.
“But that’s just what she does want. She may not ride at shows herself but she wants to show the animal and win prizes.”
Adeline turned to Wright. “Do you think it is light enough for me to put Rosina over a few jumps, just to show what she’s like?”
“It’s still bright in the west, miss.”
Still wearing the remote air, Adeline went with the men to the paddock where half a dozen white-painted hurdles lent an air of purpose. She mounted the mare and, in a preliminary canter, showed her style. The mare’s beauty and the child’s grace were well matched. The swallow on his flight was scarcely better poised. Then thudding over the turf they came and cleared the hurdles, one after the other, without a tick.
Crowdy turned to the prospective buyer. “Ever see the like of that? Ain’t she a winner?” But whether it was mare or child he designated he did not say.
“That’s a sight,” said Chase, “in these contemptible days, when the motor car has pushed the horse