A Little Gipsy Lass by Gordon Stables

Frank Antony Blake had certainly not been hard upon the handsome banking account which his father had so generously placed at his disposal when he told him to go and have his fling for a few years, or until he should come of age. Perhaps Antony was neither better nor worse than the average modern son. For, of course, there are modern sons as well as modern fathers; but the sin of extravagance was not one that could be laid to this young fellow's charge. He liked to have one penny to rattle against another simply for comfort's sake. Luxuries he considered rather effeminate, and could do without them.

Now, however, he was going to let the wind into his banking account to the extent of purchasing a team of four as good horses as could be had in the Granite City, to which he paid a visit. He had been among horses all his life, and knew a horse at sight, and to him a horse was not merely 'an animal with a leg at each corner,' as it is to some. He advertised for what he wanted.