"Why don't you race here?" exclaimed Gay in her impulsive way, and Carlton wondered how Rensslaer would reply without deeply offending her new-born craze for the sport. "Well," said Rensslaer, "I don't approve of letting pacers compete with trotters, and also, I don't like the mile-and-a-half handicap racing from standing post-- "I'm afraid you're proud," said Gay sadly, and at that moment the door opened to admit Chris, who, true to his creed, gave no sign of his deep disappointment at not finding Gay alone, though a little surprised to see who her visitor was. He, of course, knew Rensslaer well enough by sight and reputation, but took no particular interest in him, or his famous Elsinore stable, in which steeplechasers, as apart from jumpers, were conspicuous by their absence. Like the rest of the world, he judged Rensslaer by his Trotting records alone. When Gay had introduced him to Rensslaer, the latter went on with what he had to say in the quiet, chatting way that was so pleasant; he never laid down the law, but was always interesting without trying to be. "I must confess," he said, "that I like Class racing in mile heats. This means that trotters in any given race must belong to that "class"; for instance the 2.20 class is for horses which have not got a record faster than 2 minutes 20 seconds for a mile. The horses have a flying start, the race is trotted in heats of a mile each, with twenty minutes' interval between heats, the horse winning three heats first, getting first prize. Now, by the English handicap method, a fast horse has to start behind, and it "breaks his heart," and spoils a good horse, to have to try and make up several hundred yards to catch a little shuffling butcher's pony, who has been given that start of him. It is like making a man fight a boy, the man with his hands tied behind his back so that he cannot defend himself, and after a few such races a good horse gets sick of the whole thing, and is spoilt as a race Trotter." "Oh!" cried Gay, all the more indignantly that at the moment she caught Chris's eye with a world of meaning in it, "you are trying to put me off Trotting--and I _won't_ be put off! After all," she added naïvely, "I'm glad you are not racing, for I've set my heart on winning the Gold Vase." "I hope you may," he said heartily, feeling that every moment he liked her better. "But apart from racing, the fact is, your roads are not made for trotters and pacers, and if you want something showy, you prefer a hackney. In short, you run to dogcarts, not road wagons; you're a sociable people--and in my opinion nothing will ever establish Trotting as a favourite sport in England." Chris gave Gay a comical look, and picked up the _Looking-Glass_ (that he had already seen, much to his disgust) which lay on a table near.