"Most remarkable," the Professor concurred dryly. "It was your monetary good fortune, then, that decided you to make a hobby of Trotting?"
Carlton looked the Professor over as if he were some disagreeable specimen.
"Chiefly, I think, because I saw an opportunity of following the advice of Miss Gay, who had advised me to take up a hobby."
Gay nodded eagerly.
"Shortly after, I bought some more horses, and have had no reason to regret it—they have won a good few races, and just about paid their way. I've got my eye on the chief Trotting Prize—Champion Vase they call it"—he turned to Gay—"this year, and I think I shall go very close for it."
"How I should love to win that!" Gay cried eagerly. "Do you think I could buy anything good enough to have a chance too?"
"You're flying at high game for a beginner," laughed Mackrell, "but if you're really in earnest"—Gay nodded emphatically—"I'll keep my eyes open, and let you know if I hear of anything. You will have to give a stiffish price for a 'green' or unexposed horse with a record of 2.20 trotting or 2.10 pacing, probably about four or five hundred pounds."
The Professor gave a startled, hurried glance at his sister. He regarded all money spent on anything but comfort, and books, which ranked certainly before necessaries with him, as thrown into the gutter.
His and Gay's modest stable arrangements were limited when in town—for she only hunted in the country—to a handsome mare that she drove in a smart Ralli car, and which attracted no particular attention save as being driven by a pretty girl, except when the Professor accompanied her.
Then, clutching in an unsportsmanlike way at the reins, shutting his eyes at dangerous crossings, and screaming out impossible directions to which Gay turned a deaf ear, his antics convulsed all beholders, and made her blush for shame.