I was walking back to Brownstroke, and met the pony bolting down the road." Jack seemed suddenly very much interested.

"What sort of little girl was it ?" he asked.
"I can't exactly tell you.

She was so frightened I had hardly time to look at her.

But--" "What sort of pony ?" asked Jack.
"A grey one--and a jolly little animal, too!" I said.

"But why do you ask ?" "Only," said Jack, with a peculiar smile, "because it strikes me very forcibly the young person in question was my sister, that's all!" "What!" I exclaimed, in amazement, "your sister!--the little girl of the photograph! Oh, Jack, how extraordinary!" "It is queer," said Jack; "but it's a fact all the same.