"And me 'at, Miss." "Is this yours?" "Yes, Miss." She passed him the picture-hat. Albert received it with immobile face. "And me pig-tail." "You don't deserve it," said Boy. Silver approached. "Put 'em on, will you?" he said. Albert obeyed without demur and without a symptom of emotion. In a moment he had become a coarse caricature of his young mistress, ludicrously alike and yet worlds away. "Not so bad," commented the young man. "You could act, Albert?" "Yes, sir," said Albert, in whom diffidence was not a defect. The lad made for the door in his hat and pig-tail, and as though to manifest his quality gave a little coquettish flirt to the skirt of his coat as he went out. "You'll be wanted this morning, Albert, you and Brand," the girl called after him. "Yes, Miss." "Mare's Back. Twelve-thirty. Make-Way-There and Lollypop, trial horses. Stanley and Jerry know. Silvertail for me." "Yes, Miss." He closed the door behind him. Silver came toward the girl slowly and took her hand. "How are you, Boy?" he asked. The girl laid her firm, cool little hand lightly on his and let it rest there. Her eyes were soft in his, still and steady. She felt herself surrounded by his love as by a cloud, and dwelt in it with quiet enjoyment and content. It was a while before she answered. "I'm all right," she said. "You're through, aren't you?" "Yes; I'm free." "That's right," she said. "The rest doesn't matter." Together they went out into the sunshine of the Paddock Close. He stood a moment, filling his chest, and looking up toward the green wall of the Downs. "Let's go slow," he said. She accommodated herself to his stroll. "By Jove," he said slowly. "It _is_ a delight to get down here again. And I don't feel anything's changed really." "Nor has it _really_," replied the girl. CHAPTER XXXI God Almighty's Mustang Jim Silver turned out of the yard into the office. As the young man entered, the old trainer sat dumped in his chair, rosy, bald, with innocent blue eyes, like a baby without a bib, waiting for its bottle. His round head was deeper between his shoulders than of old, and his pink face was strained and solicitous. Some men said he was over eighty now. "Well, sir," he wheezed, "I see you take it good and game." "No good crying over spilt milk," replied Silver. The old trainer raised his hand as he settled in his seat. "Don't tell me," he said. "It's them there li'bilities. I was always agin 'em. Said so to Boy four year back. 'Cash in 'and's one thing,' I says. 'And li'bilities is another and totally different.'" He lifted a keen blue eye. "I understand from what Mr. Haggard tell me, you could ha' dodged 'em out o' some of it--only you was too straight." He held up a disapproving finger. "That's just where you done wrong, Mr. Silver. No good ever come o' bein' _too_ straight, as I often says to Mar. You're only askin' for trouble--same as the Psalmist says. And now you got to pay for it."