The Horse Race
"I'm going to double the recipe, Maggie."
"Law, honey, yo' hadn't best. I 'lows it's more partickiler to get
good dat way."
"I can't help it. I want plenty of it so the judges can all have a
taste. They'll be sure to give me a prize."
Beth had on an apron in which she was almost lost. In her hand, she
held an open cook book from which she read:
"'The whites of five eggs.' Twice five is ten. Give me ten eggs,
Maggie."
The good-natured Maggie counted out the desired number.
"I'll break dem for yo', honey."
"No, Maggie, I must do it every bit myself or it wouldn't be fair. Oh,
dear me. The yolk has got into this one so it's no good. Another egg,
please, Maggie."
All ten of the whites were finally in one dish. Beth tried to beat
them and spattered them not only over herself but over the pantry floor.
"Whites of eggs are very slippery, Maggie."
"I wouldn't beat more'n half at a time, honey."
Beth accepted the suggestion and succeeded in getting a good stiff
froth from the eggs. Next, she measured out the other ingredients.
She tried to be careful, but somehow she spilled flour not only over
the pantry floor but also over herself.
"Beth, you are a powdered beauty," called a boyish voice from the open
pantry door.
"Why, Harvey, where did you come from?"
"Oh, I came to see you, and your mother told me I'd find you here.
What are you making?"
"Wait until I put this pan in the oven, and I'll tell you all about it.
Maggie," added Beth to the cook, "you're not to peep at my cake even.
Promise me."
"Law, honey, I won't even go into the kitchen if yo' don't want me to.
I'll stay here in de pantry until yo' calls me, but I fear you'll
forget it."
"No, indeed, I won't."
The precious cake was consigned to the oven, and then Beth joined
Harvey on the piazza.
"I've made an angel's cake, Harvey, and I'm going to get a prize for
it. Mamma says the only way to learn to cook is just to cook."
All this time, Harvey had been holding one hand behind him. Beth now
noticed that he was hiding something.
"What have you there?" she asked.
Harvey looked bashful. "Well, ever since I came so near burning you
up, I've been saving my money to buy you a present, and here it is."
Beth drew in her breath at sight of a beautiful dog collar. "Oh, it's
for Don, and what's this mark on it? 'Don. Owned by Beth Davenport.'
Oh, it's too lovely for anything. Where is Don? I must try it on him."
The prize cake was all forgotten. Away she and Harvey scampered.
Don was out near the stable. The collar fitted him exactly, and the
children talked and admired it for some time.
Suddenly Beth gasped, "Oh, my cake," and ran as fast as she could back
to the kitchen.
Upon opening the oven, an avalanche of smoke came forth. The cake was
burned to charcoal.
The heart-broken little cook sat down on the floor and cried bitterly.
Maggie stuck her head through the pantry window.
"For de law's sake--dat beau'ful cake. I knew I jes' ought to have
'tended it."
"Maggie, Maggie, why didn't you tell me it was time to look at it?"
"Sure, honey, didn't yo' tol' me I must have nuffin to do with it?"
"Yes, but----" the sentence ended in sobs.
"Never mind, Beth," said Harvey; "Maggie will make you another, won't
you, Maggie?"
"I don't want her to make me another. I was going to take a prize with
this one, and the judges won't give prizes for burnt cake, boo-hoo."
Suddenly Beth resolved not to cry over spilt milk. She jumped to her
feet.
"Harvey, run away. I'm going to make another cake, and I won't let it
burn. I'll get the prize yet."
Harvey reluctantly departed. Beth immediately went to work and made
another. When once it was in the oven, she watched it so carefully
that Maggie feared it would be spoiled by overzeal. For a wonder, it
was a great success. A professional cook could not have made a
better-looking cake.
By this time, it was growing so late that Beth did not wait to make
frosting.
She took her dress and cake over to the Fair building, which was about
a quarter of a mile from her home. She was in plenty of time to make
her entries.
Dollie was grazing in the pasture when Beth returned. This reminded
her of her great desire to ride Dollie, so she called the horse to her,
and she came running at the call. Dollie was always sure of sugar from
Beth.
Beth put her hand up against the horse and whispered:
"I wish I might ride you, Dollie. I know I could. I'll go and ask
mamma if I may."
Away ran Beth to her mother.
"Mamma, may I ride Dollie this morning?"
"No, dear, I'm going to use Dollie myself. I'm going to get Mrs.
Corner, who is to spend the day with me. We are going to the races
this afternoon."
"Won't you bring Laura back, too?"
"She probably can't come. She goes to school, you know."
"Mamma, will you let me ride Dollie sometime?"
"Yes, dear, sometime, but don't tease now."
Beth took this as a decided promise. She told Maggie, January, Harvey,
and Julia that she was to ride Dollie; that her mamma had said so. She
did nothing but talk about the matter the whole morning.
Mrs. Davenport returned with Mrs. Corner in time for luncheon. About
two o'clock Beth ran into the library where her mother and her guest
were having a cozy chat before starting for the races. She had thought
so much about her ride that she took it for granted that Mrs. Davenport
must know her thoughts.
"Mamma, I'm going now. May I?"
At this particular moment the conversation between the two women was
especially absorbing so that Mrs. Davenport hardly heeded Beth.
"May I, mamma?"
Mrs. Davenport glanced towards her for a second. She took it for
granted that Beth wished to play with either Julia or Harvey.
"All right. Run along, dear."
In the seventh heaven of happiness, Beth skipped up-stairs.
She decided that it would never do to ride in an ordinary dress, and
believed that her mother would not object if she borrowed her riding
habit. Beth knew just where to find it. The skirt was one of those
now old-fashioned affairs that almost swept the ground even on a
grown-up person.
However, Beth was not to be daunted. She heroically jumped into the
skirt, but found that the belt was almost twice too large for her.
This necessitated the use of a safety pin. She took a step towards the
bureau, and fell sprawling over the floor, tangled in yards of trailing
skirt. She tried to rise, and tripped again. For a moment, she rested
on the floor, thinking to herself that it must be a much harder matter
to manage a habit than a horse. Then, gathering up the unruly skirt in
both hands, she managed to reach the bureau where she pinned the skirt
tightly around her. But even now her troubles were not over.
The waist proved almost as big a problem as the skirt. She buttoned it
on over her own dress, but even then it was about twice too large for
her.
She looked at herself in a glass, and burst forth into hearty peals of
laughter.
"I declah"--already she pronounced "declare" almost like the
darkies--"I feel like a cat dressed up in clothes. It can't move
without tumbling all over itself, and neither can I."
She held up her arms and flapped them. They were almost lost in the
voluminous sleeves. Her hands were not to be seen at all.
"I never can manage a horse without hands," she murmured.
She overcame this difficulty by pinning up the bothersome sleeves.
Next, she jammed her mother's riding hat down on her curls. It, too,
was much too large for her, and had some blond frizzes sewn across the
front of it. The hat with its false front added the finishing touch of
rakishness to Beth. She, however, was as proud as a peacock over her
attire.
As fast as her awkward skirt would allow, she hurried in search of
January.
He was very much amused over her appearance.
"Missy, I declah, yo' looks like a rag bag dat needs some rags to fill
it out. Whaffor don't yo' get chuck full of somethin'?"
She would not heed such remarks, but said with great dignity:
"I wish the saddle put on Dollie."
"I'm skeered yo'r maw won't like me to."
"But she told me I might ride."
Still January hesitated.
"I dunno as I kin kotch Dollie."
"You can try. Hurry, January."
For once Dollie was easily caught and saddled. January helped Beth to
mount. Nobody but him saw the start. He was so much interested that
he walked down as far as the gate and opened it.
Dollie did not seem to wish to go for Beth, but the latter settled the
question with a switch cut by January. She headed Dollie in the
direction of the Fair grounds.
There was more driving than usual on the shell road, because of the
Fair and the races. Many a person turned, stared, and smiled to see
that quaint little figure on Dollie going along so primly.
A young lady, a cousin of Beth's, was spending the winter in
Jacksonville that year, and was very popular in society. On this
particular afternoon she, too, was driving on the shell road and
chanced upon Beth. She and her escort laughed so heartily over the
child's ludicrous appearance that Beth, at first, was inclined to be
offended. However, she drew Dollie up alongside of the carriage.
"Are you laughing because we're going slow? I'm not a bit afraid.
Say, Cousin Lulu, would you like to have a race with me?"
Lulu and her escort laughed harder than ever. Beth tried to look more
dignified.
"I bet I could beat you, Cousin Lulu. Are you afraid I would? Come on
and try."
The young man in the carriage leaned forward.
"Do you ride well enough for that?"
"Of course, I do."
This was hardly true, as she had never ridden at a fast pace in her
life. She did not think it necessary to own to this, however.
The young man was highly amused.
"Well, little lady, we'll try your skill. If you reach the Fair
grounds gate before we do, I'll give you a box of candy. Now when I
count three and say go, we'll both start. Now one, two, three, go."
Beth gave Dollie a cut with the switch. She was bound to win that box
of candy.
Dollie, surprised by the sudden blow, leaped forward, almost unseating
Beth who, however, managed in some way not to fall.
The young man had a fine horse which also started forward at a good
fast pace, and soon nosed ahead of his rival.
Dollie, not to be outdone, quickened her gait. Both horses began to
feel the contagion of the race, especially Dollie who had been, as
January said, a race horse in her day. Her mouth tightened on the bit.
Beth's blood quickened too. After she found she could cling on, she
was not a particle frightened but began to enjoy the sport.
The young man turned to Lulu, saying:
"She does well for such a little thing, doesn't she?"
He touched his horse with the whip. It went faster. Whereupon Dollie
took the bit so completely that Beth had no control over her. Her
racing blood was thoroughly aroused, and it would have taken an
extremely strong hold to quiet her. She simply flew, and Beth began to
be scared. The words of January flashed through her mind: "She'll go
so fast, you'll wish you hadn't got on her."
Nose to nose the horses sped over the hard shell road. The situation
grew critical for Beth.
She wondered what her mother would say if she were thrown and her
lifeless body were carried home.
"She will be so sorry that she scolded me yesterday. I wish I could
tell her that I know I deserved it. I don't want to die."
The world seemed more beautiful than ever now that death seemed near
her.
"Whoa, Dollie, whoa," she cried.
But Dollie paid not the slightest attention. With head curved well
down she sped as fast as in her palmiest racing days. Slowly but
surely she forged ahead of her fast rival.
"The horse is running away with the child. Stop her, stop her," cried
Cousin Lulu in alarm.
Her warning came too late.
They were now opposite the Fair grounds, which had a very high fence
surrounding them. There were two gates, one for pedestrians and the
other for carriages.
Dollie swerved in at the foot passageway and her helpless rider could
not stop her. People scattered in every direction before the runaway
horse. Even the gate-keeper stepped aside, dropping his tickets in his
fright.
"Oh, what shall we do? She'll surely be killed. She'll be dragged
from her horse. Her dress has caught on the gate," cried Cousin Lulu
with her heart in her mouth.
Beth let go the reins and held with one hand to the saddle pommel, and
with the other to Dollie's mane. This saved her. Her skirt tore loose
from the gate. Onward flew horse and child.
Cousin Lulu and her escort hastened after through the driveway. Far
ahead of them they saw Dollie and Beth flying towards the race track
with lightning speed.
Mr. Davenport chanced to come from the Fair building at this very
minute.
"Oh, Uncle James," screamed Lulu, "Dollie is running away with Beth."
He hardly understood, but saw the runaway horse now nearing the race
track and hastened after it.
With the long memory of a horse, Dollie recognized the track as a scene
of bygone triumphs, and made straight for it. No rider urged her on as
of old, no rivals were by her side; but Dollie of her own accord
started around that course at a breakneck speed with a little girl
clinging wildly to her mane.
People were already gathering on the grandstand and they held their
breath for very fear, Beth held hers also. Dollie needed all of her
breath for her solitary run. On, on, she flew. Beth clung closer,
while people sprang to their feet in their anxiety over the outcome.
By this time Beth was hatless. Her long curls and the clumsy torn
skirt were flying backwards.
On, on they came. People leaned far over the stand. Jockeys ran out
on the track. One of them cried enthusiastically:
"It is a beautiful run if only the little one isn't killed."
Dollie in truth was making a wonderful run for a horse that had no
competition. With long swinging strides she came around the track, and
her speed remained unabated. If people had not been so fearful for the
child's life, some one might have thought to time Dollie, and it is
very probable that it would then have been proved that she was fully
equaling her record if she was not breaking it.
Mr. Davenport ran up the track in an agony of fear, ready to head off
the runaway animal if it seemed advisable. The jockeys followed in his
wake.
"That is the child's father. How terrible it must be for him," said
some of the spectators.
Dollie's speed remained unabated.
When she was three-quarters of the way around, Mr. Davenport was almost
within hailing distance of his brave little girl who still clung to the
excited horse.
Mr. Davenport was undecided whether to try to stop the horse or not,
for fear a sudden stop might unseat his child.
Beth saw her father and grew excited.
"Oh, papa," she cried, taking her hand from the pommel to wave it to
him.
The action came near being fatal. Dollie was making the curve. Beth
swayed, and Mr. Davenport and many another spectator shuddered, fearing
she would be dashed to death. She, however, proved a better rider than
they expected. She was growing accustomed to the rapid motion of the
horse, and gained confidence thereby. She straightened herself,
clinging with one hand and gathering up the reins that had been hanging
loose, with the other. Then she pulled on them again, crying:
"Whoa, Dollie, whoa."
Dollie perhaps was tiring of her mad run, for she heeded the frantic
appeal. Gently as any well-regulated machinery, she slackened speed.
Delighted at the success of her horsemanship, Beth repeated the action,
crying:
"Whoa--nice Dollie." Then in a tumult of relief she shouted:
"Hurrah, I'm not going to die after all."
People on the grandstand heard the sweet childish cry of joy and saw
Dollie a moment after come to a standstill. Instantly a wild outburst
of enthusiasm followed. People clapped and stamped wildly, shouting
themselves hoarse. Mr. Davenport, too agitated for speech, rushed up
to Beth, and clasped her close to his heart. The jockeys clustered
around, and they too clapped their hands in approval.
"Why are all the people shouting?" asked Beth.
Mr. Davenport gave her a convulsive hug and answered:
"They are shouting for you, my dear."
For a few seconds Beth was quite overcome, and then she whispered to
her father:
"I guess they're not shouting for me, but for Dollie. I didn't really
want her to go so fast, but I couldn't stop her at first. In fact, I
thought I was going to be killed, sure. I am very, very glad I was not
thrown."
If she was glad, Mr. Davenport was more so, but he was still too
overcome to say much. Beth was rather surprised to have him hug and
kiss her so often, for generally he was not a demonstrative man.
Presently Beth said:
"Papa, I know how to ride now, don't I? And say, papa, I won a box of
candy from Cousin Lulu's beau."
One of the jockeys heard her. He grinned his approval and said:
"She's got pluck enough to be one of us. I reckon she's born with a
liking for horses. My, didn't the old mare go!"