Saturday morning dawned. Dashes of sunlight at length began to dart through the rifts in the lifting clouds. It had rained heavily during the night, and the mistress, though she had ordered out her carriage for a drive to the race course, felt that the condition of the track would, no doubt, preclude the possibility of Cassandra’s start in the handicap. She remembered that the trainer had said, “if the track’s right.” However, she must go. The spell, the fascination that drew her thither seemed irresistible. Her aunt persuaded her to remain for lunch; but one o’clock found her gazing with intensity into the depths of the bewitching eyes, while she tenderly stroked the shapely little head that Cassandra had at sight of her thrust through the doorway of her apartment. “I was just starting,” said the trainer, who now addressed her, “for a last inspection of the track before deciding what’s best to do. You know, ma’am,” he continued, “this is to be a hard-fought race, and while I believe the little girl”—nodding at Cassandra—“is well conditioned to go the route of a mile and a quarter, and will stand the punishment, still, in heavy going the chances are all against her. There’s Helen Orland,” he went on, “and Empress and Annabel—the track to-day, ma’am’s to their liking.” The trainer paused, for he could not help but note unmistakable traces of disappointment on the face of the mistress. Indeed, nothing could have more delighted her now than merely the appearance of her “little pet” upon the track, if only to receive the words of praise from the spectators she felt sure she would. But, as it was a matter to be left entirely with the trainer, she now turned towards him, and handed him a roll of bills from her purse, saying as she did so: “You are doubtless in need of money for expenses. I shall send Thomas to you for your final decision.” So saying, she stepped into her carriage, which moved off in the direction of the clubhouse. “Gad!” said the trainer. “Five thousand dollars! This reminds me of old times, when the master was living. Only when he gave me a roll like this it was with instructions to keep my eyes on ‘Bookies,’ and make them keep their odds right.” The crowd had now commenced to flow into the grounds in droves and bunches. As the mistress, calm and collected, swept down the top balcony of the clubhouse to a position that commanded a full view of the course, admiring glances from every direction followed after her. Unattended as she was, and with manner of complete reserve and composure, she seemed wholly absorbed with her own thoughts. Seated in a group just to her left, and but a few feet in front of her was Colonel Townsend, an old gentleman, with Major Campbell and two others—evidently horsemen, all earnestly engaged in a discussion of horses and races in general.