thoroughbred, that we wanted to put out of her old age, to a standard
stallion; got a filly; bred it back with a thoroughbred; bred its
filly foal with the same standard again; knocked all our
prognostications into a cocked hat, and--well, look at it, a world-
beater polo pony. There is one thing we have to take off our hats to
her for: she doesn't let any woman sentimentality interfere with her
culling. Oh, she's cold-blooded enough. She's as remorseless as any
man when it comes to throwing out the undesirables and selecting for
what she wants. But she hasn't mastered color yet. There's where her
genius falls down, eh, Paul? You'll have to put up with Duddy and
Fuddy for a while longer for your trap. By the way, how is Duddy?"

"He's come around," she answered, "thanks to Mr. Hennessy."

"Nothing serious," the veterinarian added. "He was just off his feed a
trifle. It was more a scare of the stableman than anything else."




CHAPTER XIII



From the colt pasture to the swimming tank Graham talked with his
hostess and rode as nearly beside her as The Fop's wickedness
permitted, while Dick and Hennessy, on ahead, were deep in ranch
business.

"Insomnia has been a handicap all my life," she said, while she