Up there above the hills and in the clouds, she felt entranced, spiritualized. It was with a feeling of depression that she saw they were spinning down until they hovered over a field, scudding smoothly and slowly along.
“You weren’t afraid!” exclaimed Larry triumphantly, as they walked along toward a little inn resting at the base of one of the undulating hills.
“No;” she answered, “only awed.”
“Was it anything like you expected?”
“No,” she replied.
A man came out of the inn to meet them.
“Halloa, Larry! Too bad I couldn’t have had a full house to see. The last tourist left on the train to-day.”
“Then you’ll have more room for us. This is Miss Lamont, Nat. Mr. Yates, the proprietor,” he explained to Pen. “Can you give us supper and put Miss Lamont up for the night? I have to fly back to my hotel. I’ll return by train in the morning.”
“Sure thing! House is yours.”
He showed Pen to a neat little room and told her “supper’d be on in a jiffy.”