“Oh, some one has bought Beauty!” Bab cried, in distress. “I am so sorry! How could Dorothy Morton ever have been willing to sell her?”
Barbara noticed that Grace, Ruth and Mollie were smiling broadly. Mr. Winthrop Latham, Aunt Sallie and Eunice had drawn near.
“Why shouldn’t Dorothy Morton sell Beauty to a girl who cares more for the horse than Dorothy does?” Ruth inquired.
Bab shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, very well!” she pouted. “If Dorothy thinks there is any other horse in the world to compare with Beauty, she deserves to lose her. My sweet little Beauty, good-bye!” Barbara cried.
The stable boy grinned. Everyone was smiling.
“What’s the joke?” Bab asked.
“Beauty is yours, Bab!” cried Mollie.
Bab looked at Mollie indignantly. “It isn’t fair to tease me, Mollie,” she declared. “You know how much I really care.”
“But Mollie is not teasing you, Bab,” Ruth interrupted. “Read that tag!”
Surely enough, on a card fastened by a blue ribbon to Beauty’s bridle, Bab read her own name and her sister’s.