"Oh, no, thank you, sister dear; the short walk will be good for me," returned Grace gaily, "for Elsie, too, I think, and for Ned; though he, I suppose, will prefer to ride his pony."
"Yes, of course I will," said Ned. "He needs to be taken home, anyway."
They made their adieus and passed out on the veranda.
A servant brought the pony up, and Ned was about to mount when the little steed remarked, "I think a young gentleman might feel ashamed to ride while his lady sisters must go afoot."
"You do!" exclaimed Ned, drawing back with a look of mingled surprise and chagrin. "Well, they said they wanted to walk—preferred it to riding; and—and besides they couldn't both ride on your back at once."
"Two do ride the same horse at once sometimes," seemed to come very distinctly from the pony's lips.
"Who is making you talk, I wonder?" cried Ned, turning to look about him. "Oh, Brother Max, it was you, wasn't it?" as he caught sight of his brother and sisters standing near.
"What was?" asked Max quietly.
"The person making the pony talk. I almost thought for a minute it really was the pony; though, of course, ponies can't talk. And I didn't mean to be selfish. Gracie won't you ride him home? Elsie and I can walk just as well as not."