When he was gone, Fauntleroy, who had accompanied him to the door, went back to his grandfather.
“May I go to Dearest now?” he asked. “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.
“Mine?” cried the little fellow. “Mine—like the things upstairs?”