ties.

But at the sound of the approaching "squad" Lady Gray turned an eager
face and called out, reprovingly:

"Oh! my dears, how slow you have been! If I were your age and had been
promised a horse for my very own, I shouldn't have tarried on the way!"

"Our very own? What do you mean, dear Mrs. Ford?" asked Dorothy,
hastening to bid her tardy "Good morning," before she more than glanced
across the fence.

"Just what I say, dear. Mr. Ford has had eight horses brought in for you
young folks to use. Each is to make a choice for herself or himself,
subject to change if any necessity for it. Your choice is to be your own
property and I hope will give you lots of pleasure. Captain Lem and some
of the other good horsemen will teach you anything you need to know.
Why, my dears! How astonished you look! Didn't you understand? Didn't
Leslie tell you?"

For, indeed, surprise had kept them silent. None had guessed of having a
horse of her "own," supposing from Leslie's words that they were only
to have the loan of an animal during their stay at San Leon. Alfaretta
broke the silence, explaining:

"No, he didn't say any such thing. He said we was to come choose horses
to ride, and when he said one was white I picked that out at once.
I--can't really believe you mean it, Mrs. Ford, though--course--Ma
Babcock--I never heard o' such folks--never--never--in my life. It
certainly does beat the Dutch. I--Alfy Babcock--Dolly Doodles--Jolly
Molly--Helena--to have horses of our own--it makes me cry! I, Alfy
Babcock, ownin' a whole horse! Oh! My!"

"Then I shall be very, very sorry the idea ever entered my husband's
mind, of making such a gift. We don't want tears--we just want
happiness, perfect happiness, up here at San Leon!" said beautiful Gray
Lady, smiling, and looking fairer than ever in this new delight of
making gifts, as freely as she wished. Her own life had grown so much
happier, these last months, that she longed only to "pass on" happiness
to all whom she knew. Alfy's tears really hurt her, for a moment, till
Dolly explained, with an arm about the weeper's waist:

"I reckon these must be what I've heard of as 'happy tears,' dear Lady
Gray. Alfy is too pleased to do anything else--even to say 'thank
you'--yet."

Queer little Alfy had dropped her head on Dorothy's shoulder and was
repeating in a low tone:

"A whole horse of my own! Mine, Alfy Babcock's! A whole horse--a
whole--livin'--horse--A--whole--horse!"

"We