"Did you see him kiss me, Polly?" he cried tremblingly.
"Yes, I saw him," was the solemn response.
"Isn't he a beauty? Look, Polly—he's got a white spot on every foot and one in his forehead and black as a coal all over—and Oh—what a saddle—a red belt and red martingales!"
He touched the saddle lovingly and circled the pony's neck with his arms.
The brother smiled again:
"Well, what do you think of that?"
The Boy was trembling now from head to foot, his heart in his throat as he slowly asked:
"You mean that—you'll—give—him—to me—for—all my own?"
"If you'll be a good boy, go to school and work hard—yes."
"All right, Big Brother," was the quick answer, "I'll go. Help me on him quick, and let me try him!"