"No fear o' that from one of _your_ stock, miss. I've heard tell of your father, an' a better plucked 'un with 'osses never lived. I'm always to be found here, miss, so if you'll drop me a line any time you want a drive, I'll be waitin' for you." With the promise of a speedy return, Gay took her departure, quite unaware that there had been an interested spectator of her work on the track, in the person of Mr. Rensslaer, who by accident was passing. He occasionally used the track in private for trying a horse when too far from his own place, and happening to look over the hoarding which enclosed the course, had seen Gay driving Silver Streak in his wagon, of which Tugwood had begged the loan. The sight had greatly amused him, and as she passed, he ducked his head, afraid of "scaring" the girl, for he saw at a glance that she was a complete novice at the game, though he expressed himself emphatically and aloud on her performance. "Now, that's what I call real sporting," he exclaimed, standing up in his wagon to get a better view, though even then his head barely reached the top of the hoarding. "Wonder who she is?" he soliloquised. "I'll go in, and inquire of Tugwood when she's finished her work out. Mighty pretty girl, anyway, though she don't look altogether as if she's enjoying herself. That's a nice pure-gaited one she's driving--for England." At the conclusion of the spin, and after Gay had left the place, Rensslaer continued his drive, turning in at the park gates, then made his way round to the stables, where Brusher Tugwood, hearing the approach of hoofs, left Silver Streak's box, and came out into the yard to see who it was. His grim old face relaxed into a respectful smile, and he pulled at his cap as the new-comer sprang out of his road wagon, looped up his reins, and adjusted a horse-cloth with the quick dexterity of the professional. Tugwood waited for developments, looking inquiringly at the powerful, straight-hipped horse in the wagon, and Rensslaer was quick to follow his glance. "That's old 'Marvel Girl,'" he volunteered, and gave her pedigree; then immediately, keen enthusiasts both, they fell to talking and comparing notes of doings on both sides of the Atlantic, Rensslaer walking Tugwood restlessly up and down, the idea of his original quest quite vanishing from his mind. "By the way," he said, suddenly remembering it, as he drew the "cooler" off his waiting horse and folded it up, "who is that young lady I saw going round the track a while ago in my wagon?" "That was my young mistress, Miss Gay Lawless, sir, and very kind it was of you to humour her with the loan of that wagon; she couldn't have done what she was so dead set on else. It was 'er first drive, though where you see it from, I don't know, sir."