Once at the great stables and paddocks, however, Betty’s mind was relieved on this point.  Louise had an errand from her father to Mr. Bolter and went away with Esther to interview the horse owner.  Mr. Littell was a builder and constructor and he bought many work horses of Mr. Bolter’s raising, as well as saddle stock.

If there was anything on four feet that Betty and Bob loved, it was a horse.  In the west they had ridden almost continually; their mounts out at Flame City had been their dearest possessions and they would have been glad to bring them east, both Betty’s Clover-pony and Bob’s big white horse, had it been wise to do so.

At Shadyside and Salsette, however, there had been no opportunity for horseback riding.  They had found pleasure in other forms of outdoor exercise.  Now, enabled to view so many beautiful and sleek horses, Betty, as well as Bob and the others, dismounted with delight and entered the long stables.

While her gray was being examined by one of the stablemen, Betty went along a whole row of box stalls by herself, in each of which a horse was standing quietly or moving about.  More than one came to thrust a soft muzzle over the door of the stall and with pointed ears and intelligent gaze seemed to ask if the pretty, brown-eyed girl had something nice in her pocket.

“Hi, Miss!” croaked a hoarse voice behind her.  “If you want to see a bang-hup ’orse—­a real topper—­come down ’ere.”

Betty turned to see a little crooked man, with one shoulder much higher than the other, who walked a good deal like a crab, sideways.  He grinned at her cheerfully in spite of his ugly body and twisted features.  He really was a dreadfully homely man, and he was not much taller than Betty herself.  He wore a grimy jockey cap, a blue blouse and stained white trousers, and it was quite evident that he was one of the stable helpers.

“This ’ere is the lydy for you to see, Miss,” continued the little man eagerly.  “She’s from old Hengland, Miss.  I come with her myself and I’ve knowed her since she was foaled.  Mr. Bolter ain’t got in ’is ’ole stable, Miss, a mare like this one.”

He pointed to a glossy black creature in the end box.  Before the animal raised her head and looked over the gate, Betty knew that the mare from England was one of the most beautiful creatures she had ever seen.

“Hi, now, ’ow’s that for a pretty lydy, Miss?” went on the rubber proudly.

“Oh!  See!  She knows you!  Look at the beauty!” gasped Betty, as the black mare reached over the gate and gently nipped the blue sleeve of the crooked little man.

“Knows me?  I should sye she does,” he said proudly.  “Why, she wouldn’t take her meals from nobody but me.  I told ’em so w’en I ’eard she was sold to Hamerica.  And they found Hi was right, Miss, afore hever they got ’er aboard the ship.  They sent for me, an’ Mr. Bolter gave me a good job with ’er.  I goes with Ida Bellethorne wherever she goes.  That’s the——­”