Allis; "I feel that she will."

"She's got a big weight up," he answered. "She's a little bit of a
thing, and it may drive her into the ground coming down the Eclipse
hill. I expect they'll come at a terrible jog, too; they don't often
hang back on that course."

Now that the betting worry and the labor of getting an honest boy were
over--that the horses had gone to the post, and that the race rested
with Lucretia herself, Porter's mind had relaxed. Even at the time of
the very struggle itself tension had gone from him; he was in a
meditative mood, and spoke on, weighing the chances, with Allis as
audience.

"But they'll have to move some to beat the little mare's trial--they'll
make it in record time if they head her, I think."

"Isn't the horse that beat her the other day in, too, father?"

"The Dutchman-yes, but I fancy his owner is backing my mare."

"Father!"

"It wouldn't make any difference, though; she'd beat him anyway. If I'm
any judge, he's short."

Allis felt a rustle at her elbow as though someone wished to pass
between the seats. The faintest whiff of stephanotis came to her on the
lazy summer air. Involuntarily she turned her head and looked for the
harsh-voiced woman who had been verily steeped in the aggressive odor