hands into her own looked up at him saucily. "You know you promised me
a new pony. I really must have one. Ethel says my Brandy is really out
of fashion, and I've seen such a beauty with four ducky little white
feet."

"Where, Puss?" He stroked her soft hair as he spoke, his fingers
lingering among the tresses.

"Oh, at the new stable. Ethel and I have been looking him over; she
says he's cheap at seven hundred. May I have him daddy? It looks so
poverty-stricken to be dependent on one mount."

Suddenly she stopped. "Why, daddy! What's the matter? You look half
ill," she said faintly.

Thayor caught his breath and straightened.

"Nothing, Puss," he answered, regaining for the moment something of
his jaunty manner. "Nothing, dearie. I must go and dress, or I shall
be late for our guests."

"But my pony, daddy?" pleaded Margaret.

Thayor bent and kissed her fresh cheek.

"There--I knew you would!" she cried, clapping her hands in sheer
delight.

Half an hour later, when the two walked down the sweeping stairs, her
soft hand about his neck, the other firmly in his own, they found