"Thank God that's over!" he thought with a sigh of relief, for disagreeable as the duty was, at least his presence, and that of his wife, had effectively saved Gay from overt impertinence, and the running fire of chaff to which only a coster-lady would have been equal in reply. CHAPTER XXI AUNT LAVINIA Unhappy about Chris, worried at Carlton's self-expatriation, and deeply dissatisfied with her sporting experiment, Gay got into the way of going much oftener to the little South Street house than usual; she even accompanied Aunt Lavinia on some of her secret charitable errands, and found her own troubles recede to very trumpery affairs indeed, in the light of the real tragedy of the poor that underlies all, especially town life. She began to question her right to waste money as she did on Trotting and otherwise, and her ambitions seemed puerile, even common, as contrasted with those of this dear little lady, who was always sowing as flowers in the King's garden, the loving thoughts, the helpful deeds, that unlike earthly flowers, would never fade. And as Lavinia was growing old, and time was short, she sowed as hard as she could, and unhappy, selfish people looking at her, always busy, always happy, wondered what her secret was--Lossie would never learn it, but Gay perhaps got some inkling in those visits to the poor, where her bright face and warm heart served her well. It came as a great surprise to her to find that Chris, who in an unobtrusive way helped his less fortunate brothers of the pigskin far more than he could afford, assisted many poor people through Aunt Lavinia, and while she knew that racing men are proverbially generous, not to say princely, in their charities, she was greatly pleased at this new light on his character. "Chris has the loveliest disposition, and the tenderest heart in the world, my dear--it's as big as an ox's," said Lavinia one day, when she and Gay were returning from a visit where they had poured sympathy into a bereaved creature's bleeding heart, and incidentally food and firing into her larder and cellar. "Carlton Mackrell hasn't--and it's such a pity, as he's so rich, and could help so much--but that's how it always is in this world, and always will be." Gay turned her head aside to hide a blush of pleasure, for praise of Chris was very sweet to her--indeed, he was so constantly in her thoughts, that the merest shake brought his name to her lips. "He's always doing something kind to somebody--except me," she said. "He knows it breaks my heart for him to ride, and he will do it." "Poor boy," said Aunt Lavinia, and sighed, "he can't help it. That passion for horses is in the blood of his family. You can spill it if you like, but you can't get it out." "But it's rough on other people," cried Gay. "Chris gets all the fun, and those who love him the sorrow."