The band struck up a lively tune, the gray horse began a slow,
methodical gallop. The first rise of the horse bounded Little
Dimples to her knees, and the next to her feet.
With a merry little "yip! yip!" she began executing a fairy-like
dance, keeping time with her whip, which she held grasped in
both hands.
"Beautiful!" cried Phil, bringing his hands together sharply.
In fact, he had never seen such artistic riding. The girl seemed
to be treading on air, so lightly did her feet touch the rosined
back of the ring horse.
Little Dimples heard and understood. She flashed a brilliant
smile at Phil and tossed her whip as a salute. Phil had never
met her, but they both belonged to the same great family, and
that was sufficient.
His face broke out into a pleased smile at her recognition and
the lad touched his hat lightly, settling back against the
center pole to watch Dimples' riding, which had only just begun.
It made him laugh outright to see her big picture hat bobbing up
and down with the motion of the horse.
"Works just like an elephant's ear when the flies are thick,"
was the lad's somewhat inelegant comparison.
But now Dimples removed the hat, sending it spinning to the
ringmaster, who, in turn, tossed it to an attendant.
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