an eye-lid. The crowd, deeply interested, watched in
silence. Utterly absorbed in the work in hand, Boy, as always, was
unaware of them because she was entirely forgetful of herself.

"Yes," she said simply.

The old man turned to the gypsy.

"What ye want?" he asked.

"She's yours for a tenner, sir."

He stiffened his lips.

Boy walked sedately past her father.

"Pound a leg," she said quietly in his ear.

"Four pound," said the old man, firmly. "Cash down--and accommodation."

He rustled the bank-notes in his pocket.

The gypsy frowned, and appeared to be engaged in a portentous spiritual
struggle. Then the clouds cleared suddenly.

"Done with you, sir!" he called, and hauled the old mare down the
widening lane through the crowd. She came reluctantly, every inch of her
resenting the necessity for motion.

Old Mat paid out five sovereigns into the other's outstretched paw.

"Four sovereigns for the mare--and a half for the halter, and a little
bit o' beer-money."

The crowd cheered and the gypsy danced a jig.

"You're a gentleman, Mr. Woodburn," he cried. "Now I'll tell you somefin
for yourself." He drew the old man aside and whispered in his ear,
ending with an emphatic: "S'truth, sir!"

The trainer grunted sceptically.

"Now, Boy," he said. "There she is. Take charge o' your cripple."

The girl, her face alight with pleasure, took the halter of the lagging
mare.

Old Mat gathered the reins and mounted to his seat. Monkey Brand took
his place at his master's side. Boy got up behind, the halter in her
hand.

The trainer raised his whip.

The buggy bumped over the grass, the old mare trailing behind with
outstretched neck. The girl folded her arms and looked down her nose
like a footman.

Silver, following on his pony, saw her face and chuckled suddenly.

This stern girl had a sense of humour after all.

* * * * *

Then the chaff became a cheer; and the Polefax Meeting was over.

CHAPTER V

Across the Downs

What Old Mat called his little bit of theayter--which his irreverent
daughter was wont to describe with characteristic brutality as sheer
swank--was quickly over.

As soon as the buggy left the fields and bumped down into the pack-horse
track which led up the shoulder of the Downs, Old Mat halted. Boy
slipped down from her seat, and the old man and Monkey Brand followed
more leisurely. Silver dismounted, too.

The little cavalcade wound