"Might ha' done twenty year ago," muttered the trainer. He took off his
hat and made a floundering rush at the mare. She never so much as winked
an eye, pursuing her undeviating purpose with a steadfastness worthy of
a greater cause. Old Mat grunted.

"Look her over, Boy," he said.

The girl, who loved a bargain dearly as she loved a horse, was already
walking round the mare. Her father was in a complacent mood; and when he
was happy he would do the romantic and foolish things the girl's soul
loved.

"Like her, Boy?" the old man asked.

The girl pursued her critical survey, felt the mare's legs, looked into
her mouth, lifted an eye-lid. The crowd, deeply interested, watched in
silence. Utterly absorbed in the work in hand, Boy, as always, was
unaware of them because she was entirely forgetful of herself.

"Yes," she said simply.

The old man turned to the gypsy.

"What ye want?" he asked.

"She's yours for a tenner, sir."

He stiffened his lips.