llis,
I believe with a little tempting, a little coaxing, she'd almost have
a bet on Lucretia in your hands. Funny, isn't it?" And he gave a little
chuckle.

Allis hadn't heard her father laugh for a long time. It wasn't much of
a laugh, very dry, and very short lived, hardly lighting up his face at
all, but still it was the feeble pulsation of humor which showed that
the old John Porter spirit was not quite broken.

"About the betting, Allis, you must have Dixon come down here to see me,
for the horses are to go to his stable again, aren't they?"

"Yes, father."

"That's right. I thought we had arranged it that way, but I seem to
forget things since that bad tumble."

"You don't forget much now, father; you're getting stronger in every
way."

"Blarney, girl. But I don't mind; your blarney is like the sunshine,
that comes through the window every day at ten. Ah, I know to the very
minute when to look for it. But about Dixon. Have him come down, for we
must arrange to back Lucretia--she's worth it. She's been doing well,
hasn't she, girl? O God! why can't I go out into the open and see the
little mare do just one gallop? And then I'd like to sit and look at
the trees sway back and forth in the wind. Their swing is like the free
gallop of a good horse."

He dropped the brief, fretful remonstrance against fate with an
apologetic turning away of his head, and continued about the Trainer.

"Lucretia's in the Brooklyn, Allis; you know that, of course. If Dixon
starts her, the stake alone will be about enough to run for, for a
three-year-old has a tough job ahead in that mob of picked horses.
But you'll get a line on her there--I think she'll win with ninety-two
pounds up; but if she shows good form, then she'll have to be backed for
the Brooklyn Derby. Lucretia's the best three-year-old in the land, I
know. We'll have to arrange for that money. There will be a couple of
thousand to be had if it seems safe business. You and Dixon will judge
of that. You're taking Lauzanne, girl. Is it worth while?"

"Lauzanne is going to do great things for us, father. I'm sure of it."

"Still young, Allis. I talked like that when I was your age. Fancy and
horse racing go arm in arm always, and they're like an experienced man
of forty hobnobbing with the little love god; they're just about as well
mated."

Porter's irrelevant simile caused Allis to start, and Crane's relentless
eyes came and peeped at her through the narrow-slitt