“Well, perhaps I would better,” she said simply, “I should be sorry not to have enough,” and she looked up into the big man’s face as confidingly as though she were seven instead of seventeen. “I’m sure you would be; so take this and be careful of it. It is a good deal of money to look after.” “I’ll be very careful, and I am _so_ much obliged to you.” Her small, gloved hand was impulsively offered. “Good-by, little lady, and accept my best wishes for your success.” CHAPTER III “POOR OLD NICK!” It was a short walk from the jeweler’s to the address given upon the horse-dealer’s card, and with heart beating high with hope Isabel quickly made her way there. But when the dealer had bought Nick he had known what he was about. Very little “doctoring” was required to bring the still handsome old horse up to “market shape” and palm him off for a much younger animal than he was. So it was no wonder that ere a week had passed dear Old Nick, who had never known a hard day’s work in all his happy life, and whose big, arching neck had never drawn anything heavier than a surrey, should find it burdened with a heavy, ill-fitting collar, and himself harnessed to a city express wagon, while the dealer patted his pocket, congratulating himself that in a few days he had been able to make a profit of fifty dollars. Accustomed all his life to kind treatment and the best of care, Nick could not comprehend anything different; and the look of surprise which came into the big, beautiful eyes when his funny little kittenish overtures to play or to be petted were met with harsh words or a blow was truly a revelation. When Isabel started upon her quest, he had been hard at work for over a month, and it had told upon the old horse. Under ordinary conditions a local city express usually keeps its horses busy, but when the Christmas rush begins it means early and late hours for horse and driver, meals snatched when and where they can be, and rushing to and fro in storm and shine. It is really no wonder that the men become worn out and impatient, and too often the poor horses must suffer in consequence. From the dealer, a good-natured German, Isabel learned who had become Nick’s owner and that his office was in Forty-second Street, so off she started once more. The day was growing bitter cold, and the light snowfall during the previous night had frozen upon the streets and walks, making it exceedingly uncomfortable for pedestrians, whether they traveled upon two feet or four. The sun shone brightly, however, and the spirit of Christmas-tide seemed to be abroad; for as the people slipped and slid along they laughed at one another’s mishaps. But for the poor horses it was a different matter. Those sharp-shod managed well enough, but those with smooth shoes were utterly wretched, and, while striving to keep their equilibrium, struggled along, straining and pulling, utterly exhausted by the double effort.