When Mr. Mordaunt went away, he took the letter with him, and he took something else with him also—namely, a [pleasanter] feeling and a more hopeful one than he had ever carried home with him down that avenue on any previous visit he had made at Dorincourt Castle.
When he was gone, Fauntleroy, who had accompanied him to the door, went back to his grandfather.
“May I go to Dearest now?” he said. “I think she will be waiting for me.”
The Earl was silent a moment.
“There is something in the stable for you to see first,” he said. “Ring the bell.”
“If you please,” said Fauntleroy, with his quick little flush, “I’m very much obliged; but I think I’d better see it to-morrow. She will be expecting me all the time.”
“Very well,” answered the Earl. “We will order the carriage.” Then he added dryly, “It’s a pony.”
Fauntleroy drew a long breath.
“A pony!” he exclaimed. “Whose pony is it?”
“Yours,” replied the Earl.