But Uncle Jack and Little Sister, with the help of old Uncle Wash, nursed it, petted it and helped old Betty to raise it. And the next spring their reward came in a nervous, high-strung but delicate looking little slip that was indeed a beauty. The General would surely relent now! But those who thought so did not know the old man. He merely glanced at the weanling and remarked again: "The damned little weakling! That old Betty should ever have played off on me like that!" He turned indifferently away. Whereupon both the filly and the little girl turned up their noses behind his back. The fall that the filly was three years old the big county fair came off, with pacing stakes for the best three-year-old. The purse was a thousand dollars, but greater still was the glory! The old General had entered a big colt named Princewood for the stakes. This colt had been carefully trained for two seasons and had already cost his owner more than he was worth. "But it’s the reputation I am after, suh," the General said to the driver, "the honor of the thing. Our farm has already taken it twice, you know." Now Uncle Jack was something of a whip himself. He could not ride because of a lame knee, so he became an expert in driving. The old General had failed to notice how all the fall he had been giving Betty’s filly special attention with a hot brush now and then. Wrapped up as he was in Princewood’s wonderful speed, he had not noticed that Uncle Jack had frequently called for his light road wagon, and that he and Little Sister, now six years old, had taken delightful spins down the shady places in the cool byways, where the footing was good and there was no gravel or stones, and nobody could see them when they asked the high-strung little filly "to step some," as Little Sister expressed it. Then at supper one night, when Colonel Goff had dropped in as he often did, the old General began to brag about Princewood’s wonderful speed and of the way in which his favorite grandson, Braxton Bragg, could drive him. "Why, Goff," said the General, "that boy is a wonder! He drove the colt to-day a mile with one hand in 2:25." Uncle Jack winked at Little Sister, and she had to cram her mouth full of peach preserves to keep from laughing. The General saw and guessed there was a joke on him somewhere, and being one of those who loved to joke others, but did not love to be joked himself, he flushed red and began to praise Braxton Bragg openly, hoping it would go home to his other grandson who sat so quietly at the table winking at Little Sister and with something evidently up his sleeve.... "Yes, suh," said the General after a while, "Princewood will simply eat up the field, and Braxton Bragg—ay, there’s a boy for you!—he’ll be a great soldier some day—Braxton Bragg will simply drive the hoofs off the whole bunch."