Mrs. Hartwell-Jones had limped painfully down-stairs from her bright, chintz-hung bedroom at Sunnycrest, to be in readiness for the two o’clock dinner. She seated herself in one of the comfortable armchairs on the veranda to await the return of Mr. Baker and the twins.

Mrs. Hartwell-Jones had found these days of her unexpected visit at Sunnycrest very happy ones. She was often lonely, in spite of having her brain so full of people. Book friends, even when you make them up yourself, are not the same as real, living, loving people. If it were not that she felt a little in the way, because of her helplessness, she would have wished to stay longer. Her solitary two rooms in the village did not appear very inviting when compared to the busy farm with its constant movement of life and industry, its cheerful master and mistress and above all, the sound of children’s voices in the house.

When Mrs. Hartwell-Jones was much younger, many years before the beginning of this story, a very great sorrow had come into her life; her husband and dear baby were taken from her by a dreadful accident, and ever since her life had been sad and lonely, given up to trying to make others happy and in learning to bear her grief bravely and patiently. Since she no longer had a child of her own to care for, she set herself the task of making other children happy by writing stories for them. She was so successful in this that her readers were always begging for more, and some of Mrs. Hartwell-Jones’s most precious possessions were the letters written to her by little children, to thank her for her stories.

Mrs. Hartwell-Jones was thinking of all these things as she sat on the vine-covered veranda in the soft summer air, and perhaps was planning another story, when she happened to look down the road. She looked hard for a moment, then she got up suddenly and walking to the door as quickly as her lame foot would allow, called to grandmother to come and look, too.

A peculiar procession was turning in at the gate. First came grandfather, driving alone in the phaeton. Following was a man on horseback leading three other horses, splendid, strong looking animals; and last of all a girl in a pink cotton dress driving a pair of Shetland ponies harnessed to a tiny, low, old-fashioned basket-phaeton. Beside her on the seat sat Jane like an exalted mouse, while behind, perched on a miniature rumble, Christopher gyrated and squirmed ecstatically.

“It looks as if they had hired the circus to parade out here,” exclaimed Mrs. Hartwell-Jones to grandmother, in great astonishment.

The cavalcade drew up at the front steps and grandfather handed the reins to Joshua, who had seen the procession from the stable and had come on a run, wondering if Mr. Baker had bought the whole circus.

“Now, children, ‘I choose to tell,’ as you say,” said grandfather as Jane and Christopher began to babble in duet. “I thought it wiser, Mrs. Hartwell-Jones, to have you see the ponies for yourself before buying them and also to have Joshua examine them to be sure they are sound.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Mrs. Hartwell-Jones from the top of the steps, and looked more closely at the ponies.

She also looked at Letty without seeming to, and then turned and said something to grandmother in a low tone.

“This,” said grandfather, getting out of the phaeton and going to the side of the pony carriage, “this is Miss Letty Grey, who knows all about the ponies.”

“And isn’t the carriage great!” exclaimed Christopher, who could not keep still another instant. “I thought Letty would have to drive her chariot, and wouldn’t that have made a hullabaloo going through town! But Mr. Drake had this carriage that Letty used to use in the parade before they got the chariot. This is the one Letty used at Willow Grove.”

Mrs. Hartwell-Jones continued to look at the ponies, evidently thinking deeply. Jane sat, still and eager, watching Mrs. Hartwell-Jones with bright eyes. How she hoped she would buy the ponies, dear little Punch and Judy. Presently she slipped out of the carriage and mounted the veranda steps.

“They are so nice!” she whispered, tucking her hand into her grandmother’s. “And Letty drove them because she wanted to see you, Mrs. Hartwell-Jones. She wanted to see you because you write books.”

“Would you mind driving them up or down once or twice?” she asked Letty, who had been fidgeting the reins, overcome with shyness.

Grandfather had gone with Joshua and Mr. Drake to the farmyard, for the purpose of examining the other horses. Joshua was celebrated all over the countryside for his knowledge of horses.

“What a nice face that child has!” exclaimed Mrs. Hartwell-Jones to grandmother as Letty guided the ponies at a slow trot around the drive, Christopher still perched on the rumble. “Is she the little girl you spoke to me about?”

“Yes,” replied grandmother. “She does not look like a circus girl, does she?”

“She doesn’t want to be a circus girl any more,” spoke up Jane. “She wants to find some work to do. She hasn’t any home. She wants to work. And I told her,” she added importantly, “that I’d speak to you, grandmother, to ask if you knew of anybody who needed a maid.”

“A maid!” echoed Mrs. Hartwell-Jones, as if she had been given a new thought. “A maid—and no home!” She turned to grandmother. “Why would I not be the better one to carry out your plan, Mrs. Baker?”

Just then Letty drove up and stopped again. Mrs. Hartwell-Jones began to ask her questions about the ponies; whether they were afraid of trains, motor cars, or things like that.

“No, ma’am, they are very gentle,” replied Letty earnestly, overcoming her awe of the “author-lady” in her anxiety to do justice to the ponies. “They have so much sense and intelligence, from being taught things that they always listen to reason.”

Mrs. Hartwell-Jones smiled kindly.

“Their intelligence certainly has been cultivated,” she agreed, “but are they practical? I mean, will they be content to go jogging peacefully about country roads with a quiet old lady? They might miss the spangle and sawdust of the circus, you know. Or if they heard a band play, they might stand up on their hind legs, carriage and all, and begin to waltz.”

Jane and Christopher shouted with laughter at that suggestion. Even Letty laughed, and then reddened with embarrassment.

“I don’t believe they would do that,” she answered politely.

“If they’re anything like Letty, they’ll be glad to get away from the circus,” added Christopher. “Isn’t Letty funny, not to like the circus? I should think it would be bully—specially with such jolly little beasts as Punch and Judy to show off.”

“Those are the ponies’ names, you know,” put in Jane. “They are twins, grandmother, twin brother and sister, the same as Kit and me.”

It was grandmother’s and Mrs. Hartwell-Jones’s turn to laugh now. Then there were a great many more questions to be asked about the ponies, and everybody was so interested and excited that they forgot all about dinner—even Christopher—until Huldah came out the second time to say everything would be spoiled. Christopher was sent to the stable to fetch Jo Perkins to look after the ponies and grandmother invited Letty to stay for dinner.

“You must be very hungry,” said Jane, as she led Letty up-stairs to wash her hands. “I am always starved when I’ve been to the village. Huldah cooks awfully good dinners.”

It was impossible for any one to feel shy very long in that cheerful household, and Letty soon began to enjoy herself very much, although she was very quiet.

Mrs. Hartwell-Jones’s mind was still busy over that new idea that Jane’s speech had given her and she watched Letty very closely without seeming to do so.

“She is a very sweet-mannered child,” she reflected. “I find it hard to realize that she is only a little circus girl. She must have had a wonderfully good mother. I must manage to have a long talk with her.”

After dinner the real business began. Joshua examined the ponies carefully while the twins looked on with bated breath. Suppose Joshua should find something wrong with those delightful, charming little animals!

“But he couldn’t, oh, he couldn’t!” whispered Jane to herself over and over.

And Joshua didn’t.

Then the price must be settled upon. As this subject did not interest the children, and as they were forbidden to drive the ponies again because they must be rested for the return trip to the circus field, they carried Letty off to show her Juno’s puppies, the orchard, and their treasures and playgrounds generally.

“If I’d a-thought the lady would surely take the ponies,” said Mr. Drake when the transaction was satisfactorily concluded, “I’d a-druv over with another horse, so’s Letty an’ me could of got back and I could of left the ponies right now. But I guess my wife’ll be glad to have one more good sight of ’em. It’s strange how fond we all are of them ponies, mem; something like they was pet dogs. The little un,” pointing with his thumb in the direction in which Letty had disappeared, “she’ll most cry her eyes out, I guess. Poor little un, I’m afraid there’s a good many troubles ahead o’ her.” And he shook his head regretfully. He had a kind heart under his rough jacket.

“I was given to understand that the girl is to leave you?” said Mrs. Hartwell-Jones thoughtfully. “Is she no relation at all to you or your wife?”

“No, mem, none at all. Her big brother Ben was our prize tight-rope walker. A wonder, he was. But he fell an’ broke his neck; dreadful accident, mem. It happened only last summer. The little un took on dreadful. She always lived with her big brother; all her folks are dead and she hasn’t any friends but us. Folk ain’t very cordial to circus folk and their kin, for some reason, though you couldn’t find a nicer spoken child than Miss Letty there. After the accident we kept her on with us. She’s most astonishin’ helpful. My wife she sets great store by her, but Letty don’t seem to care for the rovin’ life. I guess she won’t mind parting company, ’cept for bein’ sorry to leave my wife an’ the kid. But it’s powerful uncertain what’s to become of her. My wife’ll do the best she can for her when we get to the city.”

“I was thinking,” said Mrs. Hartwell-Jones slowly, “that perhaps I could find a position for the girl. But I should like to talk to your wife first.”

“Yes’m?” replied the man hopefully. “I guess my wife could suit you all right about Letty’s character, mem. We’d like first-rate to see Letty get a good place of some sort, where she was treated kind and not worked too hard.”

“Mr. Baker,” said Mrs. Hartwell-Jones, turning to grandfather, “I’d like to ask a favor of you. Might Joshua drive the phaeton into the village—to where Mr. Drake has his tents—to bring me home? I think I should like to take a drive behind my new ponies to see how I am going to like them and the little carriage.” For the basket-phaeton had been bought, too.

Grandfather was only too delighted to put any carriage at all at Mrs. Hartwell-Jones’s disposal, and word was sent to Joshua at once, while Mrs. Hartwell-Jones limped into the house to consult with grandmother.

When Jane and Christopher learned that Letty was to drive Mrs. Hartwell-Jones into the village in the pony carriage they were very eager to go too, of course, but grandmother said no, they might not go. They would make too big a load in the pony carriage for so long a drive, and would crowd Mrs. Hartwell-Jones too much in the phaeton coming back. Christopher had a dozen or more arguments and different arrangements by which he and Jane could dispose of themselves for the excursion.

“I could drive the ponies, Jane could sit in the rumble and Letty could squeeze in between Josh and Mr. Drake in the phaeton,” he exclaimed, in a positive tone, as if no possible fault or objection could be found to so excellent an arrangement.

But grandmother was firm. The fact was that Mrs. Hartwell-Jones had confided her plan to grandmother and in order to think of carrying it out that lady required to have a long talk alone with Letty and with Mrs. Drake, the wife of the circus manager.

The “lady who wrote books” felt very hard hearted as she was helped carefully into the low pony carriage, at thus leaving Jane and Christopher behind. They took such a long, affectionate farewell of the ponies and Letty, and stared so wistfully at the little rumble! But she comforted herself with the thought that if her plan worked out properly, the children would have many opportunities during the summer for long drives and games.