Dolman. Therefore, two men of strong beliefs were set on opposite sides
of the fence.

Even in the Porter household, which was at Ringwood Farm, was divided
allegiance. Mrs. Porter was possessed of an abhorrent detestation of
horse racing; also an assertive Christianity. The daughter, Allison,
had inherited the horse taint. The swinging gallop of a striving horse
was to her the obliteration of everything but sunshine, and the smile of
fields, and the blur of swift-gliding hedges, and the driving perfume of
clover-laden winds that passed strong into spread nostrils. For Alan
Porter, the son, there were columns of figures and musty-smelling
bundles of tattered paper money where he clerked in the bank. There had
been great unison in the Porter household over the placing of Alan. In
addition to horse lore, John Porter was a fair judge of human nature,
and, beyond doubt, there was a streak of velvet in Alan which would have
twisted easily in the compressive grip of the race course.

The Porter family were not the only dwellers of Brookfield who took part
in racing. Philip Crane, the banker, wandering from the respectable
highway of finance, had allowed himself to become interested in race
horses. But this fact was all but unknown in Brookfield, so the full
resentment of the place was effusively tendered to John Porter.

In his younger days some money had come to Philip Crane. The gambler
spirit, that was his of inheritance, had an instinctive truth as allied
to finance; but, unfortunately for Philip Crane, chance and a
speculative restlessness led him amongst men who commenced with the
sport of kings. With acute precipitancy he was separated from the
currency that had come to him. The process was so rapid that his racing
experience was of little avail as an asset, so he committed the first