The child lifted her head quickly and gazed at him, "Grandpa, that almost couldn't—happen" she said, in amazement, catching her breath.
He nodded. "There's one thing pretty certain, Nature won't draw off the pond now that this has come to you."
"Me, me!" cried the child. Her lips trembled and she turned a little pale under the tan as she remembered how the pony came. Then her eyes, dark with excitement, suffused, and recklessly she flung herself upon the broker's neck while the boat rocked wildly.
Mr. Evringham waved one hand toward his daughter while he seized the mast. "Tell Harry we left our love," he cried.
"Dear me, Jewel, what are you doing!" called Mrs. Evringham.
"It's mine, mother, it's mine," cried the child, lifting her head to shout it, and then ducking back into the broker's silk shirt front.
"What do you mean?" asked Mrs. Evringham, coming gingerly out upon the wharf, which was such an unsteady old affair that she had remained on terra firma.
"Why, you see," responded Mr. Evringham, "the farmhouse boat wasn't so impossible for two old sea-dogs like Jewel and me, but when it came to inviting her lady mother to go out with us, I saw that we must have something else. Well, it seems as if Jewel approved of this."
He winked at his daughter over the flaxen head on his breast.
"What a fortunate, fortunate girl!" exclaimed Julia. "I can hardly wait to sit on one of those beautiful red cushions."