t it back?" for to her
great surprise her punctilious and particular relative was shaking the
fine skirt about recklessly and examining it.

"Here's a name," he said, bringing his prize to Jewel and showing her an
oblong bit of white cloth, much as tailors use inside dresses. "What do
you make of it?"

The child, disturbed by such daring, and dreading to see the owner of
these splendid possessions scramble up the bank, looked reluctantly.

The name was a long one, but so familiar that she recognized it at once.
"Evringham."

She lifted her eyes to her grandfather. "It's the same as ours."

"There isn't another Evringham in Bel-Air," returned the broker. "The
fairies dropped this for you, I guess, Jewel. It certainly won't fit me.
Let's try it on."

He slipped it over the head of the dazed child and hooked it around her
waist.

"'It fitted her exactly,'" murmured Jewel. "They always say so in fairy
stories.

"Look here," said her grandfather. He put his hand into the stirrup and
drew out a folded bit of paper. He handed it to the child, who began to
wonder if she was dreaming.

DEAR JEWEL (she read),--I believe you expected Divine Love to send you a
horse. I have come to belong to you, and my name is STAR.

It was astonishing what a large, round penmanship the pony possessed.
There was no possibility of mistaking a word.

Jewel read the note over twice as she stood there, the long, scant
skirt, making her look tall. Mr. Evringham stood watching her. His part
in the comedy was played. He waited.

She looked up at him with eyes that seemed trying to comprehend a fact
too large.

"Grandpa, have you given me this horse?" she asked solemnly, and he
could see her hands beginning to tremble.

"Oh, am _I_ to get some credit for this?" returned the broker, smiling
and twisting his mustache. "I didn't expect that."

He knew her lack of motion would not last long, and was bracing himself
for the attack when, to his surprise, she pulled up the impeding skirt
and made a rush, not for him, but for the pony. Hiding her face on the
creature's satin shoulder, she flung her arm around his throat, and
seizing his rippling mane, sobbed as if her heart would break.

Mr. Evringham had not spent weeks in selecting and testing a horse for
his granddaughter without choosing one whose nervous system would be
proof against sudden assaults of affection; but this onslaught was so
energetic that the pony tossed his head and backe