career he had! One never hears of him nowadays. I wonder what became of
him?"

"Billy Garrison?" echoed Garrison slowly, "Why--I--I think I've heard of
him--"

He was cut short by a laugh from the girl. "Oh, you're good! Why, his
name used to be a household word. You should have heard it. But, then, I
don't suppose you ever went to the track. Those who do don't forget."

Mrs. Calvert walked slowly away. "Of course you'll stay for lunch, Sue,"
she called back. "And a canter might get up an appetite. William, I
meant to tell you before this that the major has reserved a horse for
your use. He is mild and thoroughly broken. Crimmins will show him to
you in the stable. You must learn to ride. You'll find riding-clothes
in your room, I think. I recommend an excellent teacher in Sue. Good-by,
and don't get thrown."

"Are you willing?" asked the girl curiously.

Garrison's heart was pounding strangely. His mouth was dry. "Yes, yes,"
he said eagerly.

The tight-faced cockney, Crimmins, was in the stable when Garrison,
in riding-breeches, puttee leggings, etc., entered. Four names were
whirling over and over in his brain ever since they had been first
mentioned. Four names--Sis, Waterbury, Garrison, and Crimmins. He
did not know whey they should keep recurring with such maddening
persistency. And yet how familiar they all seemed!