"_I_ didn't invent the Bubble," he had said, explanatorily. "I only bought it. Then the inventor and I ran it together, in a sort of partnership, as long as he lived. 'Twas as good as a silver mine for a while. Nothing could stand against it, sir--nothing." But Etheridge was not interested in the Bubble. "I should like greatly to see your mare go," he said. "Here, boy, isn't that track in the field in pretty fair condition still?" "Yes, boss," answered the negro, whom he had addressed. "Why not let her go round it, Chase? It will do her good to stretch her legs this fine morning." Here a shadow in the doorway caused them both to turn their heads. It was Ruth Franklin. "Good heavens, Ruth, what are you doing here in the stables?" asked Etheridge, astonished. "I have come to see the horses," replied Ruth, confidently. She addressed Chase. She had already learned that she could count upon indulgence from him, no matter what fancies might seize her. "Here they are, then," Chase answered. "Come closer. This is Peter, and that is Piper. And here is the mare, Kentucky Belle. Your friend, the commodore, was urging me, as you came in, to send Kentucky round a race-course you have here somewhere." "Yes, I know; the old ring," said Ruth. "Oh, please do! Please have a real race." "But there's nothing to run against her, Miss Ruth. The pair are not racers." "You go to Cyrus Jaycox," said Etheridge to the negro, "and ask him for--for" (he could not remember the name)--"for the colt," he concluded, in an enraged voice. "Fer Tipkinoo, sah? Yassah." "Tell him to come himself." "Yassah." The negro started off on a run. "It's the landlord of the Old North," Etheridge explained. "He has a promising colt, Tippecanoe" (he brought it out this time sonorously). "No match, of course, for your mare, Chase. Still, it will make a little sport." His color had risen; his face was young with anticipation. "Now, Ruth, go home; you have seen the horses, and that is enough. Your mother would be much displeased if she knew you were here." For answer, Ruth looked at Chase. "I won't be the least trouble," she said, winningly. "Oh, do be! I like trouble--feel all the better for lots of it," he answered. "Come along with me. And make all the trouble you can!"