"
"But--" Hilary turned to Pauline.
"Uncle Paul sent her," Pauline explained. "She came last Saturday
afternoon. One of the men from Uncle Paul's place in the country
brought her. She was born and bred at River Lawn--that's Uncle Paul's
place--he says."
Hilary stroked the glossy neck gently, if Pauline had said the Sultan
of Turkey, instead of Uncle Paul, she could hardly have been more
surprised. "Uncle Paul--sent her to you!" she said slowly.
"To _us_."
"Bless me, that isn't all he sent," Patience exclaimed. It seemed to
Patience that they never would get to the end of their story. "You
just come look at this, Hilary Shaw!" she ran on through the opening
connecting carriage-house with stable.
"Oh!" Hilary cried, following with Pauline.
Beside the minister's shabby old gig, stood the smartest of smart
traps, and hanging on the wall behind it, a pretty russet harness, with
silver mountings.
Hilary sat down on an old saw horse; she felt again as though she must
be dreaming.
"There isn't another such cute rig in town, Jim says so," Patience
said. Jim was the stable boy. "It beats Bell Ward's all to pieces."
"But why--I mean, how did Uncle Paul ever come to send it to us?"
Hilary said.
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