Though every settled township in the colony has its racecourse and its yearly meetings, this, the nearest to Adelonga, was a two-hours' drive distant, even with four fast horses; and it was nearly the time for the first event to come off when our party reached the ground.
The course lay in the ring of a shallow valley, hemmed in with low hills on one slope of which the vehicles of the "county families" of the neighbourhood were withdrawn a little apart from the space occupied by the bulk of the crowd, and such booths, merry-go-rounds, and other rural entertainments as the bulk of the crowd affected.
There was no grand stand, no platform even—except the judge's box, which was dedicated to-day to Mr. Thornley's use, and a gallery running along one side of the saddling-enclosure, where the betting men chiefly congregated. But this slope, rising rather steeply immediately behind the place where a grand stand would have been, was a favourable position, for ladies at any rate, from which to view the main proceedings; and here the Adelonga break was brought to anchor.
Two grooms were waiting to take out the horses, which were fed and watered on the ground in the prevailing picnic fashion, and "hung up" at the boundary fence, where scores of others were tethered.
Mr. Thornley looked about for the people he expected to join his party, found they had not arrived, and then set forth to the saddling-enclosure to see what horses were going to start and when.
Rachel continued to sit on the box, and thought it was delicious. She had a powerful field-glass all to herself, and through this she surveyed the units and groups that composed the company—women and children, a great many of them, in charge of sporting husbands and fathers of all ranks, all perfectly orderly and well-behaved, and all apparently enjoying themselves as much as she was.
Some people from a neighbouring buggy came up to speak to Mrs. Hardy, and to inquire after Mrs. Thornley's health; and a carriage full of young people further down enticed away the Thornley children and Miss O'Hara.
Before she was involved in any of these social proceedings, however, Mr. Thornley returned, and asked her if she would not like to go with him and see what was doing "down there"—pointing over his shoulder in the direction from whence he had come.
In a moment she had sprung lightly from her perch and was standing beside him, pleading eagerly for her aunt's permission, which was graciously given, with certain vague qualifications that she did not stop to listen to.
And then she tripped across the green springy grass, shy and fluttered, and charmed with her enterprise, blushing vividly under the stares of those dreadful men, and feeling in her innocent heart not a little proud of the distinguished position in which she found herself.