Mr. Evringham appeared not to see him. He was looking down the rocks and grass of the steep incline.
“Is there any sort of a path?” he asked, “or do you descend it as you would a cellar door? I think you might have told me, so I could change these light trousers.”
“Grandpa!” exclaimed Jewel in a hushed tone, pointing before her. “See that horse—just like the coal black steed the princess rides in a fairy story.”
“Why, that's so. He is a beauty. Where do you suppose the princess is?”
“She's probably gone down the ravine,” returned the child, her feet drawn forward as if by a magnet. “Let's not go down yet.”
The broker allowed himself to be led close to the pony, who turned his full bright eyes upon the pair curiously.
“Do you think I might touch him, grandpa?” asked the child, still in the hushed voice.
“If he's a fairy horse he might vanish,” returned Mr. Evringham. “Let's see how he stands it.” So saying he gave the shining flank some sturdy love pats. “Oh, he's all right. He's good substantial flesh and blood.”
“But the lady,” said Jewel, looking about, the pupils of her eyes dilated with excitement.
“Oh, I don't think a very big lady has been riding in that saddle. You can do as you'd be done by, I fancy.”