Jewel called to him radiantly. “Oh, Zeke, what do you think?”
“I think it's great,” he responded. “Hello, little kid,” he said, as he came nearer and perceived the signs in the child's face. “Pony do any harm, Mr. Evringham?” he asked with respectful concern.
“No; Jewel cried a little, but it was only because I told her she could not sleep nights in Star's manger.”
The child gave one look of astonishment at the speaker's grave countenance, and then shouted with a laugh as spontaneous as though no tear had ever fallen from her shining eyes.
“See Essex Maid look at my pony, grandpa!” she said joyously. “She looks so proud and stuck up.”
“Look away, my lady,” said the broker. “You'll see a great deal more of this young spring before you see less.”
Zeke dismounted.
“Now then,” Mr. Evringham looked up at the child. “I'm going to let go your bridle.”
“I want you to,” she answered gayly.
Mr. Evringham mounted his horse. “We'll take a sedate walk through the woods,” he said. “Zeke, you might lead her a little way.”