The turnouts in the ring consisted of one horse harnessed in front of another; and Montague was wondering what conceivable motive could induce a human being to hitch and drive horses in that fashion.  The conversation turned upon Miss Yvette, who was in the ring; and Betty remarked upon the airy grace with which she wielded the long whip she carried.  “Did you see what the paper said about her this morning?” she asked. “’ Miss Simpkins was exquisitely clad in purple velvet,’ and so on!  She looked for all the world like the Venus at the Hippodrome!”

“Why isn’t she in Society?” asked Montague, curiously.

“She!” exclaimed Betty.  “Why, she’s a travesty!”

There was a moment’s pause, preceding a remark by their young lady visitor.  “I’ve an idea,” said she, “that the real reason she never got into Society was that she was fond of her old father.”

And Montague gave a short glance at the speaker, who was gazing fixedly into the ring.  He heard the Major chuckle, and he thought that he heard Betty Wyman give a little sniff.  A few moments later the young lady arose, and with some remark to Mrs. Venable about how well her costume became her, she passed on out of the box.

“Who is that?” asked Montague.

“That,” the Major answered, “that’s Laura Hegan—­Jim Hegan’s daughter.”

“Oh!” said Montague, and caught his breath.  Jim Hegan—­Napoleon of finance—­czar of a gigantic system of railroads, and the power behind the political thrones of many states.

“His only daughter, too,” the Major added.  “Gad, what a juicy morsel for somebody!”

“Well, she’ll make him pay for all he gets, whoever he is!” retorted Betty, vindictively.

“You don’t like her?” inquired Montague; and Betty replied promptly, “I do not!”

“Her daddy and Betty’s granddaddy are always at swords’ points,” put in Major Venable.

“I have nothing to do with my granddaddy’s quarrels,” said the young lady.  “I have troubles enough of my own.”

“What is the matter with Miss Hegan?” asked Montague, laughing.

“She’s an idea she’s too good for the world she lives in,” said Betty.  “When you’re with her, you feel as you will before the judgment throne.”

“Undoubtedly a disturbing feeling,” put in the Major.

“She never hands you anything but you find a pin hidden in it,” went on the girl.  “All her remarks are meant to be read backward, and my life is too short to straighten out their kinks.  I like a person to say what they mean in plain English, and then I can either like them or not.”

“Mostly not,” said the Major, grimly; and added, “Anyway, she’s beautiful.”

“Perhaps,” said the other.  “So is the Jungfrau; but I prefer something more comfortable.”

“What’s Chappie de Peyster beauing her around for?” asked Mrs. Venable.  “Is he a candidate?”

“Maybe his debts are troubling him again,” said Mistress Betty.  “He must be in a desperate plight.—­Did you hear how Jack Audubon proposed to her?”