Upon this Jewel stroked the pony over and over lovingly, and he nosed about her in a friendly way.
“Grandpa, see him, see him! And oh grandpa, see his beautiful star, white as a snowflake!”
“Well, upon my word, if this isn't lucky,” remarked Mr. Evringham. “Here is some sugar in my pocket, now.” He passed some lumps to the child.
“Would it be right?” she asked, glancing down the ravine. “Had I better wait till the girl comes up?”
“She won't mind, I'll wager,” returned Mr. Evringham; so the child, thus encouraged, fed the coal black steed, who, for all his poetical appearance, had evidently a strongly developed sweet tooth.
“Hello, what's this!” exclaimed the broker, stepping to the fence and taking up something black and folded. When he shook it out, it proved to be a child's riding skirt.
“She's left it there,” said Jewel eagerly. “We ought not to touch it. It's very hard on clothes going down the ravine, and she's left it there. Don't you think, grandpa, you ought to put it back?” for to her great surprise her punctilious and particular relative was shaking the fine skirt about recklessly and examining it.
“Here's a name,” he said, bringing his prize to Jewel and showing her an oblong bit of white cloth, much as tailors use inside dresses. “What do you make of it?”
The child, disturbed by such daring, and dreading to see the owner of these splendid possessions scramble up the bank, looked reluctantly.
The name was a long one, but so familiar that she recognized it at once. “Evringham.”