Smilingly he held out his hand for her to step upon, his glowing eyes lifted to hers. Startled she drew back, her eyes held and fascinated, however, by his intent gaze.
For a long instant they gazed, and then she breathed:
“Oh, Steve!”
Had the meeting occurred otherwise, she probably would never have taken the tall, broad-shouldered, handsome young fellow for the Steve of her childish memory, but she only saw and recognized those brown eyes lifted to hers as they used to be in the old days when he took her from Dobbin’s back, with the same tender light in them.
“Yes, Nancy, it’s Steve!” he exclaimed joyfully. “And you knew me after all these years!”
A smile that held something sweet and sensitive flashed assent, and then in reaction from the stir of undefined feeling, which she was not ready to acknowledge, her eyes danced with sudden humour. Keeping her saddle she glanced behind her to the pony’s back, and said:
“Where are our bags of meal?”
Steve laughed in responsive gaiety, and in spite of himself let his eyes rest upon her in kindling admiration.
“Oh, I see good grist which the mill of time has ground for you,” he said, and put out his palm again for her to step upon.