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Poke Drury, the cheerful, one-legged keeper of the road house, swung back and forth up and down on his one crutch, whistling blithely with his guest of the chimney and lighting the last of his coal oil lamps and candles. "She's a Lu-lu bird, all right," acknowledged Poke Drury.
All eyes were on the track, which was being cleared for the first heat of another race. The free-for-all horses were being led away blanketed. The crowd cheered "Lu-Lu" as she went past, a shapeless oddity. The backers of "Mascot", the rival favourite, looked gloomy. The woman noticed nothing of all this. She was small, very pretty, still young, and gowned in a quite unmistakable way.
I lost all intention of drawin' sustenance out of the inhabitants, when all of a suddent up steps one of these brisk, smart, zippee-zippee-zizoo-ketch-me-if-you-kin young city fellers, the kind of lu-lu joker to go through a countryman like a lightnin' express through a tunnel, leavin' nothin' but the hole and a little smoke, and says he, in a hurry: "'Sorry to have kept you waitin', Mr.
He knew by bitter experience how unchangeable her whims were, how obstinately she clung to even the most absurd. She leaned forward breathlessly. The crowd hung silently on the track. "Lu-Lu" and "Mascot" were neck and neck, getting in splendid work. Half-way round the course "Lu-Lu" forged half a neck ahead, and her backers went mad.
I must go as soon as the free-for-all is over, if not before. I have backed 'Mascot'; you?" "'Lu-Lu'" she answered quickly it almost seemed defiantly. How horribly unreal it was this carrying on of small talk, as if they were the merest of chance-met acquaintances! "She belongs to a friend of mine, so I am naturally interested." "She and 'Mascot' are ties now both have won two heats.
But the slender, scholarly hand on her shoulder was trembling with the intensity of his repressed emotion. He did care, then. A wild caprice flashed into her brain. She sprang up. "See," she cried, "they're off now. This heat will probably decide the race. If 'Lu-Lu' wins I will not go back to you, if 'Mascot' does I will. That is my decision." He turned paler, but bowed in assent.
It didn't matter a pin to her whether "Lu-Lu" or "Mascot" won. What did matter! Had Vanity Fair after all been a satisfying exchange for love? He had loved her once, and they had been happy at first. She had never before said, even in her own heart: "I am sorry," but suddenly, she felt his hand on her shoulder, and looked up. Their eyes met.
"Lu-Lu" had won, and the crowd on the grand stand and the hangers-on around the track were cheering themselves hoarse. Clear through the noisy clamour shrilled a woman's cry. "Ah I have dropped my scorecard." A man in front of her turned. "I have an extra one, madame. Will you accept it?" Her small, modishly-gloved hand closed eagerly on it before she lifted her eyes to his face.
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