"My proposal, as you call it, is a foregone conclusion, dear Heron," Gay answered smartly, "and with all sisterly respect for you, I would remark that I invariably make up my mind--both our minds sometimes--beforehand, and acquaint you with the result after. Carlton Mackrell has promised me his assistance and advice, and as soon as I can get hold of a few good horses, I mean to start. The Trotting season's young yet--perhaps later on, as a special treat, I'll take you to see a race." "Mr. Mackrell?" he said irritably. "Well, well, a rich idler is bound to take up some fad, I suppose--but why be a sporting man, without two ideas in your head? An interesting animal, no doubt, of the same type as your friend, Chris Hannen, but-- "Oh," cried Gay with spirit, for she resented the sneer, "it's these 'interesting animals,' as you are pleased to call them, from the lofty heights of ineffectual science, who do the work of the world, the work that counts. It is the sportsmen of England who know how to rise to an emergency, and overcome it, old boy--these very same brainless men whom you so contemptuously patronise, by their pluck and determination, form the very bulwark of England when fighting has to be done!" "But I fail to see any object in sport," reiterated her brother obstinately, "especially horse-racing and--er--Trotting matches. Where does it lead to, and what good purpose does it serve?" "It improves the breed of a noble animal, and teaches the men who ride it self-reliance and resource," Gay flashed back, "to say nothing of making them _hard_--a soft man is every decent woman's abomination!" The Professor shifted his feet uneasily, and glanced at his watch; it was his invariable rule to run away when getting the worst of an argument. He had no power to hinder Gay from making ducks and drakes of her two thousand a year, and he sighed as he reflected that she was already more than a little original in some of her ideas and speech; but he also knew that the charm of the girl overshadowed all else, and that whatever she said or did, seldom drew forth a more severe censure than "Oh, that's Gay Lawless all over, you know," from anyone whose opinion mattered. Gay, in fact, possessed a soul which she described as "superior to public opinion or example--good or bad, especially good," and so long as what she said and did harmed no one, and she performed such duties as her station required of her, she felt answerable to none. When he had left the room with his usual silent shuffle, the girl, quite unconscious of the pretty picture she made, talked confidentially to her reflection in the glass. "Awful pity dear old Frank isn't more of an outdoor man," she said aloud, then her face grew serious as she remembered the fate of her four other brothers, all killed in the open, two fighting, and two in search of adventure.