Malcolm looked a bit doubtful.
“Those Eastern horses are not like our little wild ponies,” he said. “Perhaps we ought to start Margaret with Tags.”
Virginia laughingly protested.
“Oh, brother, I wouldn’t ask Megsy to ride that stupid old horse. I am sure that Margaret could ride, well, say Star. I have ridden him several times, and next to my Comrade I think he is the prettiest pony that we have on the ranch.”
Just at that moment the brother and sister heard a merry hallooing, and, turning, they saw Margaret skipping toward them.
“Virginia,” she exclaimed reproachfully as she came up, quite out of breath, “why didn’t you waken me? I want always to get up when you do.”
“But it was before sunrise, and I know that you are not used to being up so early,” the other girl replied as she slipped an arm about the newcomer, who said enthusiastically:
“Oh Virg, what a pretty horse that red-brown one is. It looked up and neighed just as though it were trying to say ‘Good morning!’”
Virginia was about to explain that the graceful, alert little horse to which Margaret referred was her own dear Comrade that had been given her by her father when it was a colt, but, before she could speak, she heard Malcolm saying: “Sister and I were looking over the mounts just now trying to decide which one we would give to you for your very own.”
His ward turned toward him with eyes that glowed. “Oh, how kind you both are,” she exclaimed, appreciatively. “I would just love to have a pony all for my very own. May I choose any one that I wish?”