"I suppose you're not very particular, Bert, so long as he'll let you stay on his back," said Mr. Lloyd, smiling.
"That's about it, father," assented Bert.
"Be sure and get a nice, quiet pony that won't run away with Bert, or give him a nasty kick some time," interposed Mrs. Lloyd, with an anxious look, as she contemplated the possibility of some accident happening to her darling.
"Never fear, mother, I'll make sure of that," answered Mr. Lloyd, with a reassuring smile. "And for that very reason," he continued, addressing himself to Bert, "I may be some time in finding one just to suit. So you must be patient, my little man, and be willing to wait, so that when your pony does come, he may be a good one."
As it turned out, Bert had to wait several months, and the chill winter had given way to the warm sunshine of spring, and the boy's patience had almost given way altogether, when at last his father, on coming home one evening, announced, to his immense joy, that after much searching he had secured a pony that thoroughly suited him, and that this equine treasure would be brought to the house the next morning early.
If Bert was too much excited to sleep for more than half-an-hour at a time that night, who cannot sympathise with him? And if, when he did fall into a troubled doze, he had nightmare visions which soon woke him up again, who would dare laugh at him? In all his young life he had never been in such a fever of expectation, and long before dawn he was wide awake, with no hope of again closing his eyes, and tossed and tumbled about until it was light enough to get up and dress himself.
As soon as he had dressed he went down to the barn to assure himself for the twentieth time that the little stall was in perfect readiness; that there was no lack of oats in the bin or hay in the loft; that the brand-new halter was hanging in its place, waiting to be clasped upon the head of the coming pony, and thus he managed to while away the time until the breakfast bell rang.
The pony was to arrive shortly after breakfast, and, hungry as he was, Bert could scarcely be persuaded to taste his porridge, toast, or coffee, and he made the others laugh by jumping up to run to the door at the slightest suspicion of a sound in the street. At length, just when he had settled down again after one of these excursions, the door bell rang vigorously. Bert rushed through the hall, opened the door, and immediately there was a glad shout of "Hurrah! Here he is! Isn't he a beauty?" which brought the whole family to the door, and there they beheld the overjoyed boy with his arms clasped tightly round the neck of a brown pony that seemed to quite appreciate this little demonstration, while the groom looked on with a superior smile at Bert's enthusiasm.
The pony was indeed a beauty. He was of a rich brown colour, without a white spot upon him, just high enough for Bert to see comfortably over his back, and as round and plump as the best master could wish. His head was small and perfectly shaped, his neck beautifully arched, and he had large brown eyes that looked out upon the world with an intelligence almost human. He had the highest testimonials as to soundness of wind and limb, and sweetness of temper, and was altogether just the very kind of a pony to make a boy happy.
And yet all of his good points have not been recounted. He had a list of accomplishments quite as long as his list of virtues, for at some previous stage of his life he had, on account of his beauty and great docility, been put in training for the circus; and although for some reason or other he had never got so far as to make his appearance in the saw-dust arena, he had been taught a great many tricks, and these he was generally willing to perform, provided an apple or lump of sugar were held out as a reward.