After winning on Lauzanne Allis had dodged the admiring crowd of paddock
regulars that followed her. As Lauzanne was being blanketed she had
kissed the horse's cheek and given him a mighty squeeze of thankfulness.
How nobly he had done his part; good, dear old despised, misjudged
Lauzanne. He had veritably saved her father from disaster; had saved her
from--from many things.
She had slipped into her long coat and stood waiting for Mike to drive
her to Dixon's cottage when the rumor came of an objection. Then there
had been the misery of terrible suspense, a wait of uncertainty. Was her
sacrifice of womanly instinct to go for nothing? Dixon had hurried to
the scene of investigation; then he had come back after a little with
Mike, and the good news that they had been given the race. If it had not
been for prying eyes she would have knelt there at Lauzanne's feet and
offered up a prayer of thankfulness. She had done all a woman could do,
almost more; Providence had not forsaken her and her stricken father.
Then Mike had hurried her to the buggy just as Crane, leaving the beaten
Dutchman and Langdon, had come, asking Dixon where Miss Porter was,
that he might tender congratulations. He wanted to see the boy that had
ridden Lauzanne, also--wanted to take his hand and tell him what a grand
race he had ridden. But Dixon had been ready with excuses; the boy was
dead beat after the race--he was only a kid--and had gone to Dixon's
home. Miss Porter was perhaps in the stand, or perhaps she had gone home
also. Crane knew of Langdon's objection. It was a silly thing, he said,
due to overeagerness. He had taken no part in it, he assured Dixon. Alan
Porter, too, came into the paddock, asking for his sister; but fared
pretty much as Crane had. He would certainly find her at the cottage,
Dixon assured him.
That night Allis wired the joyful tidings to her father, and that she
would be home in the morning.
Dr. Rathbone's prophecy as to the proper medication for John Porter
stood a chance of being fulfilled in one day. Allis's telegram proved
that the doctor had understood the pathology of Porter's treatment, for
he became as a cripple who had touched the garment of a magic healer.
It was thus that Allis found him when she reached Ringwood. Oh, but she
was glad; and small wonder. What she had done was as nothing; it shrank
into insignificance under the glamourous light of the change that had
come over the home. What a magic wand was deserved success; how it
touched with fairy aspect all that drooped with the fearsome blight of
anticipated decay! And even then they did not know the full extent of
her endeavor. Mingled with her mother's gentle welcome, and her father's
full-throated thanks, was praise for the, to him unknown, boy that had
ridden Lauzanne so gallantly.
The girl found tears of thankfulness glistening in her eyes as she
listened to the praise that was wholly hers, though given in part to the
jockey. They had not even heard his name--it had not mattered before;
and now when her father asked for it, she answered that Mike called him
Al something. Her father, generous in his salvation, was most solicitous
as to a fitting present; a thousand dollars, or perhaps two, or even
more, if Dixon advised so. What had he promised the lad? But there
were so many things to talk over and settle, and laugh about, and
congratulate each other upon. Good fortune was a generous dame. They
were all like children in their happiness. \ “Yes, Alan had been there,”
the girl answered to a question from her father. Also it was a strange
happening, a distortion of fate that Crane had beaten them in the
Brooklyn with Diablo, and now they had beaten his horse, The Dutchman,
with Lauzanne the Despised. All was content after the turmoil of
endeavor. And of the horses, Lauzanne, who would gallop for no one but
Allis, would be brought back to Ringwood, to be petted and spoiled
of his young mistress for the good he had done. Lucretia, when
convalescent, would also come to the farm to rest and get strong.
In the midst of it all Dr. Rathbone came in, and of course, man-like and
doctor-like, with pretended pomposity, said: “I told you so. What did
I say? Now Mrs. Porter, no more scolding over the ways of horses, a good
horse is a delight, and a good daughter a joy forever.”
Dear old Dr. Rathbone, wise in his generation and big of heart!