oked the butcher the night of the concert--I mean--"

"You're talking nonsense, Alan."

"I'm not, I know when a man's interested. Hello. Blest if the Boss isn't
coming this way--there's Crane. See, Allis? I've a notion to tell him
that his trainer is a crook."

"No, you won't, Alan--you're too young to gabble."

Philip Crane had evidently intended going higher up in the stand, but
his eye lighting on the brother and sister, he stopped, and turned in to
where they were sitting.

"Good afternoon, Miss Porter."

Allis started. Was the stand possessed of unpleasant voices? There was
a metallic ring in Crane's voice that affected her disagreeably. He was
almost a stranger to her; she hardly remembered ever having spoken to
him.

He turned and nodded pleasantly to Alan, saying, "May I take this seat?
I'm tired. The Cashier let you oft for the day, eh?" he continued. "Came
up to see your father's mare run, I suppose--I'm deuced sorry she was
beaten."

"What are they waiting for--why have they taken the horses' numbers down
again? Are they trying to steal the race from Lauzanne now?" It was the
woman's voice behind them, petulantly exclaiming.

Crane turned in his seat, looked over his shoulder, and raised his hat.

"The impatient lady is my trainer's sister," he explained in a modulated
tone to Allis. "A trainer is quite an autocrat, I assure you, and one
must be very careful not to forget any of the obvious courtesies."

Allis wondered why he should find it necessary to make any explanation
at all.

"I want to thank you, Miss Porter, for that reading about Crusader."

Allis's eyes opened wide.

"Yes, I was there," Crane added, answering the question that was in
them.

As he said this a man came hurriedly up the steps, spoke to a policeman
on guard, and searched the faces with his eyes. Catching sight of Crane,
he came quickly forward and whispered something in his ear.

"Excuse me, I must go--I'm wanted," Crane said to Allis.

As he turned, the Trainer's sister spoke to him.

"What's the matter, Mr. Crane--there's something going on up in the
Stewards' Stand?"

"I fancy there's an objection, though I don't know anything about it,"
he answered, as he went down the steps with the messenger.

Allis breathed more freely when he had gone. Somehow his presence had
oppressed her; perhaps it was the fierce stephanotis that came in
clouds from the lady behind that smothered her senses. Crane had said
nothing-