“If she’s around she’ll surely be walking a ceiling or resting up on double flips. She’s the queerest girl. Hard work is her idea of loafing.”
All this increased Gloria’s suspicion. It sounded too much like circus ability to be anything else.
But no Jack was found in the gym, either walking ceilings, or doing double flips.
“Well, perhaps she is in some corner of the Wigwam, safe in the arms of the babes,” suggested Pat, rather disconsolately. “Let’s give up the hunt and go along the lake drive for a change. I really must work hard to make up some points, and perhaps a real lively walk will tune me up.”
“I need one myself,” agreed Gloria. “How is this pace?”
“Suits me. You do take lovely long steps for such a little girl.”
“I’m not little. I expect to be tall and imposing like Trix, some day,” announced Gloria.
“Isn’t the air wonderful?” Patricia Halliday was getting a better complexion with every stride.
“This is one fine feature of Altmount,” declared Gloria. “Even Barbend of my fairy childhood dreams, was not better supplied with beautiful walks.”
At a rapid pace the two students confronted the brisk November air. It was exhilarating, delightful.