keep on watching Marston."

John's engagement with Julia was at five in the afternoon. The days were
extremely hot, and it had not been thought wise to allow the colt his
exercise until the sun had declined somewhat. The Prince was green. He
was young. Conditions which older and hardened horses might not feel
would likely affect him seriously. He had been sheltered and pampered
since earliest colthood. Really he had not been given a chance to prove
what was in him. The run this afternoon was a part of the process of
hardening. The race wherein his name made one was to be a mighty game
for blood and brawn. It was no place for a weakling.

Old Peter, sly and wise with his many years, years which had been given
almost entirely to learning lore about horses, and acquainting himself
with their moods and disposition--Old Peter knew all this, and he was
making ready. With all his enthusiasm and confidence, he knew there was
scant hope of his beloved colt winning in three straight heats. The race
might be drawn out to four or five, or even six or eight, and then the
horse with the greatest endurance would be the horse to win. But Peter
knew what he knew. He knew that The Prince's sire, and his grandsire,
had been noted for their staying qualities, and though the colt was
slender of barrel and limb, yet hidden somewhere within that
satin-smooth skin was power to go indefinitely.

Glenning presented himself at Julia's door promptly. She received him
cordially, but with a sort of maidenly reserve which he had noticed ever
since that night when she had almost asked him to lift the veil which
hid his past. She was not quite as open and free as upon former
occasions. Her appearance was charming, as usual. She disdained
ornaments, a small cluster of some delicate flowers or a single blossom
which had mayhap struck her fancy, being the only attempt she ever made
to adorn herself beyond the delightfully simple costumes, which were
always graceful and airy. Today she came to John swinging by its ribbons
her hat--a boy's broad-brimmed straw--and wearing a gingham dress,
belted at the waist and becomingly ruffled.

The man's heart surged as his eyes beheld her.

"Oh, let's walk!" she exclaimed, as she caught sight of a horse and
buggy on the driveway.

"Certainly, if you wish. But the roads are dusty; even driving is
unpleasant."

He tried to speak naturally, but invisible fingers had him by the
throat, and his words were strained.