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She thanked Hunchie Slattery, patted Ida Bellethorne's nose, and ran out of the stable. But her head was full of the mystery of the striking name of "Ida Bellethorne." She felt she must tell somebody, and Bobby of course, who was her very closest chum, must be the recipient of her story as the cavalcade started homeward.
At breakfast time there were so many plans for exciting adventure discussed that Betty surely would have forgotten all about Ida Bellethorne's expected explanation had it not been for the lost locket. The possibility that Ida knew something about it had so impressed Betty that nothing else held her interest for long.
"This air," commented Dr. Pevy, "smells just now of a storm. And I think it may drizzle again. Now, if you are ready, my dear." He unbuckled Ida Bellethorne's bridle rein and made it a leading rein. He helped Betty into the sleigh and gave her the rein to hold. The mare led easily, and merely snorted when Standby leaned into the collar and started the sleigh.
Betty did not understand this; and just then the mare began to cough again and she was troubled by Ida Bellethorne's condition. "Is that the black mare, Slattery?" demanded a voice behind them. "Yes, sir," said the crooked little man respectfully, touching his cap.
"I would not wish to interfere with Miss Bellethorne's business engagement in Rio Janeiro; but I am anxious for her to authorize me, on behalf of her niece, to get legal matters in train for the recovery of that beautiful mare. I believe that she belongs every hair and hoof of her to our young friend here. There has been some trickery in the case." "Oh, Uncle Dick!" shrieked Betty.
She tugged with all her might at Ida Bellethorne's reins, and now, well breathed, the mare responded to the unuttered command. She came into a walk. Betty continued to stare at the heavily laden wires spanning the road, the heavier power wires above the sagging series of telephone and telegraph wires. In watching them so closely the girl discovered another, and even more startling fact.
But the crooked little rubber was more interested in Ida Bellethorne's history than he was in his own misfortune, which was an old story. "I was working in the Bellethorne stables when this mare was foaled. I was always let work about her. She's a wonnerful pedigree, Miss aw, yes, wonnerful! And she was named for an 'igh and mighty lydy, sure enough." "Named for a lady?" cried Betty.
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