t
virtues not always to be found in his brethren of the Turf. He never
drank, he never smoked, and, win or lose, he never swore. A great
raconteur, his stories were most amusing and never obscene. And when
late in life he married Patience Longstaffe, the daughter of the
well-known preacher of _God-First_ farm on the North of the Downs
between Lewes and Cuckmere, nobody was much surprised. As Mr. Haggard,
the Vicar of Cuckmere, said,

"Mat could always be expected to do the unexpected."

That Patience Longstaffe, the Puritan daughter of Preacher Joe, should
marry the old trainer was a matter of amazement to all. But she did; and
nobody had reason to think that she ever regretted it.

Patience Longstaffe became in time Ma Woodburn, though she remained
Patience Longstaffe still.

Mat and his Ma had one daughter between them, known to all and sundry in
the racing world as Boy Woodburn.

CHAPTER II

Boy Shows Her Metal

The Polefax Meeting was small and friendly; never taken very seriously
by the fraternity, and left almost entirely to local talent. Old Mat
described it always as reg'lar old-fashioned. The countryside made of it
an annual holiday and flocked to the fields under Polefax Beacon to see
the horses and to enjoy Old Mat, who was the accepted centre-piece.

The Grand Stand was formed of Sussex wains drawn up end to end; and the
Paddock was just roped off.

Outside the ropes, at the foot of the huge green wave of the Downs, were
the merry-go-rounds, the cocoanut-shies and wagons of the gypsies; while
under a group of elms the carts and carriages of the local farmers and
gentry were drawn up.

There, too, of course, was Mat's American buggy, a spidery concern, made
to the old man's design, seated like a double dog-cart, and looking
amongst the solid carts and carriages that flanked it like a ghost
amongst mortals. It was the most observed vehicle of them all, partly
because of its unusual make and shape, and partly because that was the
famous shay in which year after year Mat drove over the Downs from
Putnam's behind the horse with which he meant to win the Hunters'
Steeplechase.

That race, always the last item on the programme, and the most
looked-for, was about to begin.

The quality in the Paddock were climbing to their places in the wagons.
The voices of the bookies were raised vociferously. The crowd jostled
about them, eager to back Old Mat's old horse, Goosey Gander. They
believed in