She knelt down on the grass by the pony, in her riding skirt, and Topaz instantly came near, hopefully. He had already learned that by sticking to her closely he was liable to have good sport; but this time business awaited him. Mr. Evringham watched the pony and dog, with the flaxen-haired child between them, and wished he had a kodak.
"Now, Star and Topaz, you're going to love one another," said Jewel impressively. "Shake hands, Topaz." She held out her hand and the dog sat down and offered a white paw.
"Good fellow," said the child. "Now I guess you're going to be surprised," she added, looking into his yellow eyes. She turned toward the pony, who was nosing her shoulder, not at all sure that he liked this rival. "Shake hands, Star," she ordered.
It took the pony some time to make up his mind to do this. It usually did. He shook his mane and tossed his head; but Jewel kept patting his slender leg and offering her hand, until, with much gentle pawing and lifting his little hoof higher and higher, he finally rested it in the child's hand, although looking away meanwhile, in mute protest.
"Good Star! Darling Star!" she exclaimed, jumping up and hugging him. "There, Topaz, what do you think of that?" she asked triumphantly. For answer the golden dog yawned profoundly, and Mr. Evringham and Jewel laughed together.
"Such impoliteness!" cried the child.
"You must excuse him if he is a little conceited," said the broker. "He knows Star can't sit up and roll over and jump sticks."
"Oh, grandpa." Jewel's face sobered, for this revived a little difference of opinion between them. "When are you going to let me jump fences?"
"In a few more birthdays, Jewel, a few more," he replied.