When his father told him how pretty the little Stephen was, how dainty, how sweet, he began to picture her in his mind's eye and to be bashfully excited over meeting her.
His first glimpse of Stephen was, he felt, one that he never could forget.

She had made up her mind that she would let Harold see what she could do.

Harold could fly kites and swim and play cricket; she could not do any of these, but she could ride.

Harold should see her pony, and see her riding him all by herself.

And there would be another pony for Harold, a big, big, big one--she had spoken about its size herself to Topham, the stud-groom.