"Win what?" asked the vicar.
"That," said Boy, and flashed on her way.
When the day of parting came, word was sent round to the stables that nobody was to be in them at twelve o'clock. At that hour a slight cold figure crossed the yard swiftly, and entered the stables. The key was turned in the door. There was no sound from within, except the movement of the horses, to whom the girl was bidding good-bye.
Half an hour later the door was opened, and she came out, cold and frosty as she had entered.
Monkey Brand, standing in the door of the saddle-room, keeping guard over the stable-lads lest they should peep and pry, saw her come.
"She look very grim," he afterward reported to Old Mat.
"Keeps a stiff lip for a little 'un," whispered a lad peeping from behind the jockey's shoulder.
Monkey Brand rounded on him.
"If you'd 'alf her 'eart," he said, "you might be mistook for a man."
For three weeks thereafter Putnam's knew the girl no more; and it seemed that the soul had died out of the place. Monkey Brand moped, and swore the horses moped, too.