Caesar received tribute, as a matter of course. The doctor himself rode
to the races beside the Manners coach, leaning gallantly over the door.
My lady held court in her father's box, received and dismissed, smiled
and frowned, with Courtenay as her master of ceremonies. Mr. Dulany was
one of the presidents of the Jockey Club that year, and his horse winning
the honours he presented her with his colours, scarlet and white, which
she graciously wore. The doctor swore he would import a horse the next
season on the chance of the privilege. My aunt was furious. I have
never mentioned her beauty because I never could see it. 'Twas a coarser
type than attracted me. She was then not greatly above six and thirty,
appearing young for that age, and she knew the value of lead in judicious
quantity. At that meet gentlemen came to her box only to tally of Miss
Manners, to marvel that one so young could have the 'bel air', to praise
her beauty and addresse, or to remark how well Mr. Durlany's red and
white became her. With all of which Mrs. Grafton was fain to agree, and
must even excel, until her small stock of patience was exhausted. To add
to her chagrin my aunt lost a pretty sum to the rector by Mr. Dulany's
horse. I came upon her after the race trying to coax her head-dress,
through her coach door, Mr. Allen having tight hold of her hand the
while.

"And so he thinks he has found a divinity, does: he?" I overheard her
saying: "I, for one, am heartily sick of Dr. Courtenay's motions. Were
he, to choose, a wench out of the King's passengers I'd warrant our
macaronies to compose odes to her eyebrows." And at that moment
perceiving me she added, "Why so disconsolate, my dear nephew? Miss
Dolly is the craze now, and will last about as long as another of the
doctor's whims. And then you shall have her to yourself."

"A pretty woman is ever the fashion, Aunt Caroline," I said.