“Isn't she going?” asked Jewel soberly.
“No, not this time. She doesn't care, she's been there so much. Just see how cheerful and comfortable she looks!”
There was, indeed, a smile of almost cloying sweetness on Anna Belle's countenance, and she seemed to be seeing pleasing visions.
“I never saw such a good child!” said Jewel with an admiring sigh; then she put her hand in her grandfather's and they strolled out into the park and up the shady road. Just before reaching the bend around which lay the gorge, Mr. Evringham surprised his companion by breaking in upon her lively chatter with a tune which he whistled loudly.
It was such an unusual ebullition that Jewel looked up at him. “Why, grandpa, I never heard you whistle before,” she said.
“You didn't? That's because you never before saw me out on a lark. I tell you, I'm a gay one when I get started,” and forthwith there burst again from his lips a gay refrain, that sounded shrilly up the leafy path. They rounded the bend in the road, and the broker looked down into the eyes that were bent upon him in admiration.
“You whistle almost as well as Mr. Bonnell,” said the child.
“Give me time and I dare say I shall beat him out,” was the swaggering response. “Ah, here's your ravine, is it?”
“Yes, that's”—began Jewel, and went no further.
A couple of rods from where she suddenly came to a standstill was an object which for a moment rooted her to the spot. A small horse, black as jet, with a white star in his forehead and a flowing, wavy mane and tail, stood by the roadside. His coat, gleaming like satin, set off the pure white leather of his trappings. On his back was fastened a side saddle, and he was tethered to the rail of the light fence.