And then she did hear the click of a horse's hoofs, quite plainly.






CHAPTER THREE

PHYLLIS RIDES THROUGH

When Joy could see the rider she was relieved to find that he had no
intention of stopping. Then--a little too late--she sprang up and
ran after him; for the horse was a pony, and the rider a little boy,
laughing too gleefully not to be in mischief, and lashing the pony
on. He was having a perfectly wonderful time, apparently, and seemed
to have a safe seat; but he was certainly much too young to be
galloping through the woods at sunset alone.

Joy fell back panting from her vain chase.

"Why, he wasn't more than four or five," she said half-aloud. "What
_will_ his mother say?"

But the clatter of the light hoofs, and the delighted shouts of the
child, passed like an apparition, leaving Joy half wondering if she
had imagined it all. Though she was still a little concerned,
because somebody was very fond of that mop of flying dusky hair, and
the triumphant little voice that had echoed past her.