That pale sorrel, there. You remember his set-back. Give him an extra
year and he'll--look at his coupling!--watch him turn!--a cow-skin?--
he'll turn on a silver dollar! Give him a year to make up, and he'll
stand a show for the international. Listen to me. I've had my faith in
him from the beginning. Cut out that Burlingame crowd. When he's ripe,
ship him straight East."

Paula nodded and listened to Mr. Hennessy's judgment, her eyes
kindling with his in the warmth of the sight of the abounding young
life for which she was responsible.

"It always hurts, though," she confessed to Graham, "selling such
beauties to have them knocked out on the field so quickly."

Her sheer absorption in the animals robbed her speech of any hint of
affectation or show--so much so, that Dick was impelled to praise her
judgment to Evan.

"I can dig through a whole library of horse practice, and muddle and
mull over the Mendelian Law until I'm dizzy, like the clod that I am;
but she is the genius. She doesn't have to study law. She just knows
it in some witch-like, intuitional way. All she has to do is size up a
bunch of mares with her eyes, and feel them over a little with her
hands, and hunt around till she finds the right sires, and get pretty
nearly what she wants in the result--except color, eh, Paul?" he
teased.

She showed her laughing teeth in the laugh at her expense, in which
Mr. Hennessy joined, and Dick continued: "Look at that filly there. We
all knew Paula was wrong. But look at it! She bred a rickety old