was novel and strange to
her; the concourse, the equipages, the people, the horses, even before
they arrived at the race grounds. There a good position was secured,
and Dolly saw the whole of that day's performances. Mr. St. Leger
attended to her unremittingly; he and his sister explained everything,
and pointed out the people of mark within their range of vision; his
blue eyes grew quite animated, and looked into Dolly's to see what they
could find there, of response or otherwise. And Dolly's eyes were grave
and wide-awake, intent, very busy, very lively, but how far they were
brightened with pleasure he could not tell. They were bright, he saw
that; fearless, pure, sweet eyes, that yet baffled him; no trace of
self-consciousness or self-seeking was to be found in them; and young
St. Leger stood a little in awe, as common men will, before a face so
uncommon. He ventured no direct question for the satisfying of his
curiosity until they had returned, and dinner was over. Indeed he did
not venture it then; it was his father who asked it. He too had
observed the simple, well-bred, lovely little maiden, and had a little
curiosity on his own part.

"Well, Miss Copley--now you have seen Epsom, how do you like it?"

Dolly hesitated. "I have been very much interested, sir, thank you,"
she said gravely.

"But how do you _like_ it? Did you enjoy it?"

Dolly hesitated again. Finally smiled and confessed. "I was sorry for
the horses."

"Sorry for the horses!" her host repeated. "What for?"

"Yes, what for?" added the younger St. Leger. "They were not ill
treated."

"No,--" said Dolly doubtfully, "perhaps not,--but they were running
very hard, and for nothing."

"For nothing!" echoed Mr. St. Leger again. "It was for a good many
thousand pounds. There's many a one was there to-day who wishes they
had run for nothing!"

"But after all, that is for nothing," said Dolly. "It is no good to
anybody."

"Except to those that win," said the old gentleman. "Except to those
that win!" Probably _he_ had won.

Dolly wanted to get out of the conversation. She made no answer.
Another gentleman spoke up, and opined, were it not for the money won
and lost, the whole thing would fail of its attraction. It would be no
sport indeed, if the horses ran _for nothing_. "Do you have no races
in--a--your country?" he asked Dolly.

Dolly believed so. She had never been present at them.

"Nothing like Epsom," said her father. "We shall have