None the less, the bank honoured it, being a kind bank, and not desirous
to emphasise too abruptly the fact that Fanny Fitz was overdrawn.

In spite of, or rather, perhaps, in consequence of this fact, it would
have been hard to find a smarter and more prosperous-looking young woman
than the owner of No. 548, as she signed her name at the season-ticket
turnstile and entered the wide soft aisles of the cathedral of horses at
Ballsbridge. It was the first day of the show, and in token of Fanny
Fitz's enthusiasm be it recorded, it was little more than 9.30 A.M.
Fanny knew the show well, but hitherto only in its more worldly and
social aspects. Never before had she been of the elect who have a horse
"up," and as she hurried along, attended by Captain Spicer, at whose
house she was staying, and Mr. Alexander, she felt magnificently
conscious of the importance of the position.

The filly had preceded her from Craffroe by a couple of days, under the
charge of Patsey Crimmeen, lent by Freddy for the occasion.

"I don't expect a prize, you know," Fanny had said loftily to Mr.
Gunning, "but she has improved so tremendously, every one says she ought
to be an easy mare to sell."

The sun came filtering through the high roof down on to the long rows of
stalls, striking electric sparks out of the stirrup-irons and bits, and
adding a fresh gloss to the polish that the grooms were giving to their
charges. The judging had begun in several of the rings, and every now
and then a glittering exemplification of all that horse and groom could
be would come with soft thunder up the tan behind Fanny and her squires.