e, a wait of uncertainty. Was her
sacrifice of womanly instinct to go for nothing? Dixon had hurried to
the scene of investigation; then he had come back after a little with
Mike, and the good news that they had been given the race. If it had not
been for prying eyes she would have knelt there at Lauzanne's feet and
offered up a prayer of thankfulness. She had done all a woman could do,
almost more; Providence had not forsaken her and her stricken father.

Then Mike had hurried her to the buggy just as Crane, leaving the beaten
Dutchman and Langdon, had come, asking Dixon where Miss Porter was,
that he might tender congratulations. He wanted to see the boy that had
ridden Lauzanne, also--wanted to take his hand and tell him what a grand
race he had ridden. But Dixon had been ready with excuses; the boy was
dead beat after the race--he was only a kid--and had gone to Dixon's
home. Miss Porter was perhaps in the stand, or perhaps she had gone home
also. Crane knew of Langdon's objection. It was a silly thing, he said,
due to overeagerness. He had taken no part in it, he assured Dixon. Alan
Porter, too, came into the paddock, asking for his sister; but fared
pretty much as Crane had. He would certainly find her at the cottage,
Dixon assured him.

That night Allis wired the joyful tidings to her father, and that she
would be home in the morning.

Dr. Rathbone's prophecy as to the proper medication for John Porter
stood a chance of being fulfilled in one day. Allis's telegram proved
that the doctor had understood the pathology of Porter's treatment, for
he became as a cripple who had touched the garment of a magic healer.

It was thus that Allis found him when she reached Ringwood. Oh, but she
was glad; and small wonder. What she had done was as nothing; it shrank
into insignificance under the glamourous light of the change that had
come over the home. What a magic wand was deserved success; how it
touched with fairy aspect all that drooped with the fearsome blight of
anticipated decay! And even then they did not know the full extent of
her endeavor. Mingled with her mother's gentle welcome, and her father's
full-throated thanks, was praise for the, to him unknown, boy that had
ridden Lauzanne so gallantly.

The girl found tears of thankfulness glistening in her eyes as she
listened to the praise that was wholly hers, though given in part to the
jockey. They had not even heard his name--it had not mattered before;
and n