Upon this Jewel stroked the pony over and over lovingly, and he nosed about her in a friendly way. “Grandpa, see him, see him! And oh grandpa, see his beautiful star, white as a snowflake!” “Well, upon my word, if this isn't lucky,” remarked Mr. Evringham. “Here is some sugar in my pocket, now.” He passed some lumps to the child. “Would it be right?” she asked, glancing down the ravine. “Had I better wait till the girl comes up?” “She won't mind, I'll wager,” returned Mr. Evringham; so the child, thus encouraged, fed the coal black steed, who, for all his poetical appearance, had evidently a strongly developed sweet tooth. “Hello, what's this!” exclaimed the broker, stepping to the fence and taking up something black and folded. When he shook it out, it proved to be a child's riding skirt. “She's left it there,” said Jewel eagerly. “We ought not to touch it. It's very hard on clothes going down the ravine, and she's left it there. Don't you think, grandpa, you _ought_ to put 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.”