CHAPTER V
MEASLES
Betty Gordon's active mind could not let this incident pass withoutfurther investigation. Not alone was she interested in the beautiful blackmare and the girl in the neighborhood shop, but she wanted to know howthey came to have the same name.
Betty was a practical girl. Bob often said it was not easy to fool Betty.She had just as strong an imagination as any other girl of her age andloved to weave fancies in her own mind when it was otherwise idle. But sheknew her dreams were dreams, and her imaginings unreal.
It struck her that the name "Ida Bellethorne" was more suitable for ahorse than for a girl. Betty wondered all in a flash if the English girlwho had sold her the silk sweater in the neighborhood shop that morningand who confessed that she had come from England practically alone had notchosen this rather resounding name to use as an alias. Perhaps she had runaway from her friends and was hiding her identity behind the name of ahorse that she had heard of as being famous on the English turf.
This was not a very hard thing for Betty to imagine. And, in any case, herinterest was stirred greatly by the discovery she had made. She was aboutto speak to the little, crooked man regarding the name when somethingoccurred to draw her attention from the point of her first surprise.
The mare, Ida Bellethorne, coughed. She coughed twice.
"Ah-ha, my lydy!" exclaimed the rubber, shaking his head and stepping awayfrom the door of the stall that the mare should not muzzle his clothing."That's a fine sound--wot?"
"Is it dust in her poor nose?" asked the interested Betty.
"'Tis worse nor dust. 'Tis wot they call 'ere the 'orse distemper, Miss.You tyke it from 'Unches Slattery, the change in climate and crossin' thehocean ain't done Ida Bellethorne a mite of good."
"Is that your name? 'Hunches Slattery'?" Betty asked curiously.
"That's wot they've called me this ten year back. You see, I was a jockeywhen I was a lad, and a good one, too, if Hi do say it as shouldn't. But Igot throwed in a steeplechase race. When they let me out o' the 'orspitalI was like this--'unchbacked and crooked. I been 'Unchie ever since,Miss."
"I am so sorry," breathed Betty Gordon softly.
But the crooked little rubber was more interested in Ida Bellethorne'shistory 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 wasalways 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. "Don't you mean for a girl?"
"Aw, not much! Such a lydy, Miss! Fine, an' tall, and wonnerful to lookat. They said she could sing like a hangel, that she could. Miss IdaBellethorne, she was. She ought've been a lord's daughter, she ought."
"What became of her?" asked the puzzled Betty.
"I don't know, Miss. I don't rightly know what became of all the family. Ikept close to the mare 'ere; the family didn't so much bother me. Butthere was trouble and ruin and separation and death; and, after all,"added the rubber in a lower tone, "for all I know, there was cheating andswindling of the fatherless and orphan, too. But me, I kept close to thislydy 'ere," and he fondled the mare's muzzle again.
"It's quite wonderful," admitted Betty. But what seemed wonderful to her,the stableman did not know anything about. "I suppose the pretty mare isworth a lot of money?"
"Hi don't know wot Mr. Bolter would sell 'er for, if at all. But 'e paidfour thousand pun, laid down at the stables where she was kep' after thesmash of the Bellethorne family. She's got a pedigree longer than somelord's families, and 'er track record was what brought Mr. Lewis Bolter toHengland when she was quietly put on the market.
"Maybe they couldn't 'ave sold 'er to Henglish turfman," he added,whispering softly in Betty's ear, "for maybe the title to 'er would beclouded hand if she won another race somebody might go into court aboutit."
Betty did not understand this; and just then the mare began to cough againand 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.
Betty turned to see a gentleman in riding boots and a short coat with adog-whip in his gloved hand, whom she believed at once to be Mr. Bolter.Nor was she mistaken.
"She's a beauty, isn't she, my dear?" the horseman said kindly. "But I donot like that cough. I've made up my mind, Slattery. She goes to-morrow toCliffdale, and of course you go with her. Pack your bag to-night. I havealready telephoned for a stable-car to be on the siding in the morning."
"Yes, sir. Wot she needs is dry hair, an' the 'igher the better," said thecrooked man, nodding.
"They will put her on her feet again," agreed Mr. Bolter. "The balsam airaround Cliffdale is the right lung-healer for man or beast."
He went out and Betty heard the girls calling to her. She thanked HunchieSlattery, patted Ida Bellethorne's nose, and ran out of the stable.
But her head was full of the mystery of the striking name of "IdaBellethorne." She felt she must tell somebody, and Bobby of course, whowas her very closest chum, must be the recipient of her story as thecavalcade started homeward. It was Bobby whom Betty wanted to have theblue blouse just as soon as the shopgirl finished it.
"Now, what do you think of that?" Betty demanded, after she had delivered,almost in a breath, a rather garbled story of the strange girl and theblack mare from England.
"Goodness, Betty, how wonderful!" exclaimed her friend. "I do so want tosee that over-blouse you bought. And you say she is making another?"
"Is that all you've got to say about it?" demanded Betty, staring.
"Why--er--you know, it really is none of our business, is it?" askedBobby, but with dancing eyes. "You know Miss Prettyman told us that thegreatest fault of character under which young ladies labor to-day isvulgar curiosity. Oh, my! I can see her say it now," declared naughtyBobby, shaking her head.
"But, Bobby! Do think a bit! A girl and a horse both of the same name, andjust recently from England! I'm going to ask right out what it means."
"Who are you going to ask--the horse?" giggled Bobby.
"Oh, you! No, I can't ask the pretty black mare," Betty said, shaking herhead. "For she is going to be sent away for her health. She's got whatthey call 'distemper.' She has to be acclimated, or something."
"It sounds as though it might hurt," observed Bobby gravely.
"Something ought to hurt you," said Betty laughing. "You are forever andever poking fun. But I am going to see Ida Bellethorne in the shop andfind out what she knows about the pretty mare."
"Well, I'm sorry I didn't see the horse," confessed Bobby. "But I'll gowith you to see the girl. And I do want to see the blouse."
That, Betty showed her the moment they arrived at Fairfields and could runupstairs to the room the two girls shared while Betty visited here. Thelatter unfolded the orange-silk blouse and spread it on the bed. Bobbywent into exstacies over it, as in duty bound.
"Wait till you see the one she is making for you," Betty said. "You'lllove it!"
"What is that you are going to love?" asked a voice outside the open door."Measles?"
"Oh, Bob! Who ever heard the like?" demanded Betty. "Love measles, indeed.Why--What makes you look so queer?"
"Greatest thing you ever heard, girls!" cried Bob, his face very red andhis eyes shining. "I didn't really understand how much I had come to hatebooks and drill these last few weeks."
"What do you mean?" demanded Roberta Littell. "If you don't tell us atonce!"
"Why, didn't you hear? Telegrams have come. To all our parents andguardians. Measles! Measles! Measles!"
He began to dance a very poor imitation of the Highland Fling in the hall.The girls ran out and seized him, one on either side, and big as Bob wasthey managed to shake him soundly.
"Tell us what you mean!" commanded Betty.
"Who has the m
easles?" cried Bobby.
"Everybody! Or, pretty near everybody, I guess. The chaps who had it andwere quarantined when we came away from Salsette, gave it to the servants.And it has spread to the village. And Miss Prettyman's got it and a lot ofthe other folks at Shadyside. Oh, my eye!"
"Are you fooling us, Bob?" demanded Betty.
"Honor bright! It is just as I say. Of course, it all isn't in themessages the two schools have sent out to 'parents and guardians.' That isthe way the messages are headed, you know. But the Shadyside _Mirror_ hascome, too, and tells all about it. Opening is postponed for a fortnight.What do you know about that?" and Bob began his clumsy dance again.
Betty broke away and darted down the stairs. She scarcely touched thesteps with her feet she flew so fast, and if it had not been for thebanister she surely would have come to the bottom in a heap.
She ran out on the porch to find her Uncle Dick smoking a cigar andreading the paper in a warm corner. Like a stone from a catapult she flungherself into his arms.
"Oh, Uncle Dick! Uncle Dick! Now we can go!" she cried, seizing himtightly around the neck.
"Goodness, child!" choked Uncle Dick, fairly throttled by her exuberance."What is it? Go where, Betty?"
"To Mountain Camp! With you! All of us! No school for more than two weeks!Oh, Uncle Dick!" Then she suddenly stopped and her glowing face lost itscolor and her excitement subsided. "Dear me!" she quavered, "I 'member nowI had 'em when I was six, and they say you can't have 'em but once."
"What can't you have but once?"
"Measles," said Betty, sighing deeply. "I suppose after all I can go backto Shadyside. Maybe Mrs. Eustice will expect all of us that have had 'emto come."
Betty Gordon at Mountain Camp; Or, The Mystery of Ida Bellethorne Page 5
