home manufacture, others the product of Leichardt's Town tailors, so that there were all varieties from the honest brown and grey wincey to the Park turn-out with high hat and boots. The girls were, many of them, very coquettishly got up, and stephanotis was in favour for a breast-knot.
Outside, a good many men were lounging about discussing the merits of their horses, settling matters with their jockeys, and taking notes of the new competitors. There was a good deal of interest in the Baròlin horses. The breed was getting a name, and Trant, to use a colonialism, was "blowing" loudly about his chances of taking the Luya Cup, and cutting out Frank Hallett, who had won it the previous year, with his thorough-bred Gipsy Girl.
Mr. Blake came up and shook hands with Lady Horace and her sister.
"I have been waiting for you," he said to Elsie, as they fell back a little—"because I want to sit next you, if I may, and also because I want to ask you if you will ride a horse of mine, which is a perfect ladies' hack, on the course today. I heard you telling Lord Horace last night that you didn't like the one you rode from the Dell."
"Thank you," said Elsie. "I should like to ride your horse. But Mr. Frank Hallett has offered me one. I am the luckiest young woman in the world. Everybody has offered me horses."
"Then your only difficulty will be in selecting," said Blake.
"I like riding new horses," said Elsie.
"Then," said Frank Hallett, a little stiffly, but feeling that he was magnanimous, and that he could afford to be so, "you will perhaps be wise to accept Mr. Blake's offer. If it is the horse he rode yesterday you will be much better mounted than on mine.
He turned again to Lady Horace.
"Mr. Hallett is very generous," said Blake.
"Is it Osman?" said Elsie, ignoring the remark. "The horse that nearly knocked you against a tree that day at the Crossing."
