“No, we’d rather walk with you,” said the child heroically.

Julia smiled.  “I don’t want you.  There are birds and flowers.”

“Well, come down and see us off, anyway,” said Mr. Evringham; so the three moved over the grass toward the pond; two walking sedately and one skipping from sheer high spirits.

As they drew near the little wharf the child’s quick eyes perceived that there were two boats floating there, one each side of it.

“See that, grandpa!  There’s some visitor around here,” she said, running ahead of the others.  A light, graceful boat rose and fell on the waves.  It was golden brown within and without, and highly varnished.  Its four seats were furnished with wine-colored cushions.  Four slim oars lay along its bottom, and its rowlocks gleamed.  Best of all, a slender mast with snowy sail furled about it lay along the edge.

“Grandpa, p-lease ask somebody whose it is and if we could get in just a minute!” begged Jewel, in hushed excitement.

“Oh, they’re all good neighbors about here.  They won’t mind, whoever it is,” returned Mr. Evringham carelessly, and to the child’s wonder and doubt he jumped aboard.

“Pretty neat outfit, isn’t it?” he continued, as he stood a moment looking over the lines of the craft, and then lifted the mast.

“Oh, it’ll sail, too, it’ll sail, too!” cried Jewel, hopping up and down.  “Oh, mother, did you ever hear of such a pretty boat?”

“Never,” replied Mrs. Evringham.  “It must be that some one has come over from one of those fine homes across the pond.”

Privately, she was a little surprised by the manner in which Mr. Evringham was making himself at home.  He set the mast in its place and then, his arms akimbo, stood regarding Jewel’s tense, sun-browned countenance and sparkling eyes.

“How would it be for me to go up to the house and see if we could get permission to take a little sail?” he asked.

“Oh, it would be splendid, grandpa,” responded Jewel, “but—­but he might say no, and could I get in just a minute first?”

“Yes, come on.”  The child waited for no second invitation, but sprang into the boat and examined its dry, shining floor and felt its buttoned cushions with admiring awe.

“Hello, see here,” said Mr. Evringham, bending over the further side.  “Easy, now,” for Jewel had scrambled to see.  He trimmed the boat while her flaxen head leaned eagerly over.

Beautifully painted in shining black letters she read the name JEWEL.

The child lifted her head quickly and gazed at him, “Grandpa, that almost couldn’t—­happen” she said, in amazement, catching her breath.

He nodded.  “There’s one thing pretty certain, Nature won’t draw off the pond now that this has come to you.”

“Me, me!” cried the child.  Her lips trembled and she turned a little pale under the tan as she remembered how the pony came.  Then her eyes, dark with excitement, suffused, and recklessly she flung herself upon the broker’s neck while the boat rocked wildly.