This idea pleased Jewel very much, and in the fullness of time the feat was accomplished; but by the time the black pony had learned that he must lift his little hoof carefully and put it in his mistress's hand, before his lump of sugar was forthcoming, he wished, like the Lady Gertrude, that there had never been a yellow dog in the world.
When next Mrs. Evringham, Jewel, and Anna Belle settled in the ravine to the reading of a story, it was Jewel's turn to choose. When her mother had finished naming the remaining titles, the child hesitated and lifted her eyebrows and shoulders as she gave the reader a meaning glance. Mrs. Evringham wondered what was in her mind, and, after a minute's thought, Jewel turned to Anna Belle, sitting wide-eyed against a tree.
"Just excuse me one minute, dearie," she said; then, coming close to her mother's ear, she whispered:—
"Is there anything in 'The Talking Doll' to hurt Anna Belle's feelings?"
"No, I think she'd rather like it," returned Mrs. Evringham.
"You see," whispered Jewel, "she doesn't know she's a doll."
"Of course not," said Mrs. Evringham.
Jewel sat back: "I choose," she said aloud, "I choose 'The Talking Doll.'"
As Anna Belle only maintained her usual amiable look of interest, Mrs. Evringham proceeded to read aloud as follows:—