Beth shook her head decidedly. “I don’t believe you could have played dolls with me if you were Janie’s age; Janie’s not as old as I am,” she said. She looked at Natalie and Alys’s charming costumes, at their dawning young womanhood with penetrating eyes. “You are too far-off,” she added. “Alys is farther off than Natalie, though she is younger. You have too much. When you get bigger you have to want something in order to love dolls. I can’t play with them, but I love to cuddle them.” “So do I, Beth,” said Natalie. Mrs. Cortlandt looked at Beth, wondering for the unnumbered time at the thoughtfulness that this simple little girl sometimes displayed. When it came to heart knowledge, Beth always seemed to understand profound things that she could not possibly know. “Yes, I guess you would like to cuddle them, Natalie,” said Beth, regarding her oldest cousin attentively. “Your eyes look cuddly.” Aunt Alida telephoned the stable after they reached home, to save time, and sent the girls thither in the car after they had put on their riding habits. Dirk proved to be at home and he joined the riding party. Tim had been bidden to ride beside Beth who, though she had by this time ridden several times in the park, was still lacking in self-confidence. Another groom accompanied Natalie and Alys, who were good riders, for such young ones, and who needed no more than an attendant should anything go wrong. “I can’t help being glad, Tim, that Trump is no taller,” said Beth, as she and faithful Tim turned in at the park entrance in the rear of the small cavalcade. “It would not be far to fall off, if I had to fall.” “No, Miss Beth, and I’m suspectin’ that had something to do with Mr. Cortlandt’s pickin’ the pony for you. That and his gentleness,” said Tim. He had become utterly devoted to Beth since he had esquired her. “She was that quaint and old-fashioned and sweet,” he told Mrs. Tim at home. “I thought it was, Tim. I’d be afraid on a real horse, but Trump is like a footstool. He trots beautifully, though, doesn’t he? And he is the sweetest thing! I’m afraid to begin to love him, because it will be spring so soon and I’ll have to go home and leave him. But I don’t have to _begin_ to love him, because I just worshiped him the moment I saw---- What is that, Tim?” cried Beth sharply, interrupting herself. “Sure it’s some kind of a to-do with a child,” replied Tim. Tim on his horse and Beth on Trump hastened forward; the rest of the party was already out of sight around a curve of the bridle path. A small crowd had collected at a point a short distance ahead of Beth and her escort; they saw the gray form of a tall park policeman dominating it. “I’ll have to run you in,” Beth heard the policeman say as she came up.