Immediately the way was clear, and at a spanking trot, the coach went bowling along, every horse-drawn or motor-driven vehicle, effacing itself in honour of the fine team. The crowd's eyes sparkled with pleasure and welcome at the sight, policemen saluted, women fluttered their handkerchiefs, men cheered, the while Godden cheerfully chirruped a return of their welcome and good wishes, but of all the people in the streets, those to whom the sight of the splendid horses gave the most joy, were the cabbies, who took off their hats to a man, and waved them with ecstatic delight, shouting themselves hoarse, and nearly falling off their boxes in the process.
It was a royal progress from start to finish—from the time the greys, that had not turned a hair, were changed, and four browns substituted, to the mixed team of two chestnut wheelers, black near leader, and grey on the off lead, that in turn gave way to one of perfectly matched black-browns. At every stage there was a big crowd, till at Brighton it ended in an extraordinary demonstration of enthusiasm, and through dense, cheering masses that only left a narrow lane for the coach's passage, the Metropole was reached.
Blocked in the crowd, Gay inclined an eager ear to the cheers that ran down Piccadilly. She would have loved to go all the way ... her thoughts swerved sharply to racing, which was dangerous, wicked even—did not the poor horses often break their hearts, either dying on the course, or quietly after the race in their stables?
And Trotting was apparently disgraceful (in England), but to drive a coach with such horses as she had just seen—why, that would be at once heavenly and right, thought Gay, as she listened to the echoes, and tried to imagine herself handling the ribbons of the Vanderbilt coach.
She longed for someone congenial to talk with, and as if in answer to her wish, Rensslaer, ducking under the horses' heads, suddenly appeared at her elbow, and Gay's enthusiasm boiled over.
"Even if it is only a passing excitement for a man to whose great wealth the newest crazes and the most costly distractions are mere commonplaces," she said, "anyway its a more noble one than any of the other American millionaires have thought of, and Mr. Vanderbilt deserves all the credit as a true sportsman that is already his, or I'm much mistaken."
Rensslaer smiled.
"Aren't you rather hard on millionaires," he said, "almost as hard as your favourite Roosevelt, who has a healthy hatred for the multi-millionaire,—says he is worse than a demagogue? He quotes some chap who declares that the multi's face has grown hard, while his body has grown soft, that his son is a fool, and his daughter a foreign princess, and his nominal pleasures at the best those of tasteless and extravagant luxury, but whose real delight, and real life-work, are the accumulation and use of power in the most sordid, and least elevating form!"
"Out of breath, aren't you?" said Gay. "Well, thank Heaven you're not a multi"—not knowing that Rensslaer was—"at least he would admit that you are doing good work with this wonderful Horse Show."
"By the way, I heard from Mr. Mackrell yesterday," said Rensslaer. "He is coming over for it."