Encouraged by this Joanne put in her plea. “Won’t you take me down where I can see him, Grad?” she begged. “Of course he’s yours not mine, but as he is really one of the family I at least should be introduced to him. I’m afraid he’ll be lonely among entire strangers and we must make him understand that we are his friends.”
“All right,” responded her grandfather, rather glad of an excuse to visit the little charge so unexpectedly placed in his care.
A docile but fine-spirited little creature they found him, already in high favor with the sailors, the stewards and deck hands. He rubbed his nose against Joanne’s shoulder when she spoke caressingly to him, but turned from her with a low whinny when Dr. Selden spoke to him in Spanish. “Chico, chiquita, que bueno jaco,” he said.
“What did you say to him?” queried Joanne all intent.
“I said ‘Little one, what a good little pony.’”
“I believe he understood. You must teach me to say that to him. I mean to learn more Spanish; yes, I intend to be very proficient.”
Satisfied that they were leaving the pony in good hands the two went up on deck again. Before long the last lighter was relieved of its freight and soon the vessel was plowing through the blue waters leaving adobe houses and waving palmettos behind them. Joanne watched the little port fade from sight in a flare of sunset light, and then gave her attention to her fellow passengers whom she had scarcely noted before.
Her grandfather, a retired surgeon of the navy, her grandmother, a dainty little body, with Joanne, their only grandchild, had been spending the winter in the West Indies where they had gone mainly for Joanne’s health. She was a frail child from the first. Her father had died in the Philippines, her mother, none too robust, soon followed him, and the little girl was taken in charge by her grandparents who doted on her, but were perhaps a little over anxious and over particular, so that she was never allowed to rough it and knew little of the outdoor sports which most girls enjoy. She had studied at home with a governess, losing much time because of real or fancied illness, yet she had picked up much information from a grandfather who had travelled all over the world and knew many things not taught in books. By reading much Joanne had gained more knowledge, so she was by no means an ignorant young person in spite of having studied few school books.
Restless child that she was she paid many visits to the little pony between the time the vessel left her port and the following morning, sometimes alone, sometimes in her grandfather’s company. Between whiles she took careful survey of her fellow passengers hoping to see some one her own age of whom she could make a companion, but all appeared to be much younger or much older. The nearest approach to an acquaintance was begun with a lad a little older who smiled genially at her when she paced along the deck with her grandfather or rushed impetuously by herself as she tried to see how many circuits she could make within a given time.
This boy was sitting by a lady whom Joanne had noticed from the first. She, too, had smiled at the little girl who had smiled back. “I like that lady,” she told herself. “She is so handsome and has such kind eyes and such a lovely smile. I’d like to find out who she is. I suppose the boy is her son. I like him, too; he has the same kind of smile. He looks rather serious when the smile flashes out like the sun from under a cloud. I’d like to tell him about the pony.”