Old Peter, sly and wise with his many years, years which had been given almost entirely to learning lore about horses, and acquainting himself with their moods and disposition--Old Peter knew all this, and he was making ready. With all his enthusiasm and confidence, he knew there was scant hope of his beloved colt winning in three straight heats. The race might be drawn out to four or five, or even six or eight, and then the horse with the greatest endurance would be the horse to win. But Peter knew what he knew. He knew that The Prince's sire, and his grandsire, had been noted for their staying qualities, and though the colt was slender of barrel and limb, yet hidden somewhere within that satin-smooth skin was power to go indefinitely. Glenning presented himself at Julia's door promptly. She received him cordially, but with a sort of maidenly reserve which he had noticed ever since that night when she had almost asked him to lift the veil which hid his past. She was not quite as open and free as upon former occasions. Her appearance was charming, as usual. She disdained ornaments, a small cluster of some delicate flowers or a single blossom which had mayhap struck her fancy, being the only attempt she ever made to adorn herself beyond the delightfully simple costumes, which were always graceful and airy. Today she came to John swinging by its ribbons her hat--a boy's broad-brimmed straw--and wearing a gingham dress, belted at the waist and becomingly ruffled. The man's heart surged as his eyes beheld her. "Oh, let's walk!" she exclaimed, as she caught sight of a horse and buggy on the driveway. "Certainly, if you wish. But the roads are dusty; even driving is unpleasant." He tried to speak naturally, but invisible fingers had him by the throat, and his words were strained. She flashed a quick glance at him. "That's one reason why I proposed walking--because of the dusty roads. We'll go through, you know. Back through the garden, over a sparsely wooded upland, and down to the track. You did not know we were so near, did you?" "No; but that will be fine. Is the Major in the library? I should like to pay my respects, if nothing more than to greet him." "Yes; walk in. He's reading, and seems much improved. He'll be glad to see you." Major Dudley looked up from his book as they appeared for a moment in the doorway, side by side. He smiled, and essayed to rise. Then John was at his side, gently pressing him back into his chair. "Sit still, I beg you!" he said, taking the thin, soft hand of the old aristocrat. "I've only a moment, for Miss Dudley has promised to go with me to the track, and we mustn't delay. I'm glad to see you looking so well, Major." "My health seems excellent, suh! But I cannot undergo any exertion. My haht is gettin' a little tahed, it seems, but it's been workin' long enough to deserve a rest. Won't you take a chair, suh?" "Another time, thank you. The Prince is in fine trim, I believe?"