Bowing, Eugene Spencer drove off, leaving Sally rather sober and silent. Fox watched her and wondered, and Mrs. Ladue, in her turn, watched Fox. She could do that without being observed, now that Henrietta was gone. But the noise that told of that Sawny horse was coming, and they got into line.
CHAPTER IV[ToC]
Whatever the things in which Everett Morton had failed, driving was not one of them. There was some excuse for his not succeeding in any of the things he had tried: he did not have to. Take away the necessity and how many of us would make a success of our business or our profession? For that matter, how many of us are there who can honestly say that we have made a success of the profession which we have happened to choose? I say "happened to choose," because it is largely a matter of luck whether we have happened to choose what we would really rather do. Any man is peculiarly fortunate if he has known enough and has been able to choose the thing that he would rather do than anything else, and such a man should have a very happy life. He should be very grateful to his parents. I envy him. Most of us are the slaves of circumstances and let them decide for us; and then, perhaps too late, discover that which we had rather—oh, so much rather—do than follow on in the occupation which fate has forced us into. We have to labor in our "leisure" time in the work which we should have chosen, but did not; as if the demands of to-day—if we would succeed—left us any leisure time!
It is not to be supposed that Everett had such thoughts as these. He was concerned only with Sawny, at the moment, and with Mr. Gilfeather. He may have had the fleeting thought that he made rather a fine figure, in his coat and cap of sables and with his bored, handsome face. Indeed, he did. A good many people thought so. Even Sally may have thought so; but Sally did not say what she thought. As Everett made the turn at the head of the course, he looked around for Mr. Gilfeather, and presently he found him. Mr. Gilfeather was a hard-featured man, with a red face and a great weight of body, which was somewhat of a handicap to his horse. But if the horse expressed no objection to that and if Mr. Gilfeather did not, why, Everett was the last person in the world to raise the question.
"Try it again?" Mr. Gilfeather called, smiling genially.
Everett nodded. He did manage a bored half-smile, but it could not be called genial, by any stretch of the word.
They manœuvred their horses until they were abreast, and jogged down the course. They wanted it clear, as far as they could get it; and Mr. Gilfeather's horse fretted at the bit and at the tight hold upon him. Sawny did not. He knew what he had to do. And presently the course opened out clear for a good distance ahead.