“What?” asked Matty.
“Don’t mind him,” said Rodney. “You get it playing football, when you bruise your hip. Hello, there goes Kitty! Let’s call him in. Do you mind?”
“Of course not,” said the twins in unison.
So Rodney hurried to the gate and brought back Kitty, who, clad for walking, with his faithful pedometer at his belt, was very red of face and moist of brow.
“Had a dandy stroll,” declared Kitty as he joined the others in the summer-house. “Went all the way over to Finger Rock and back.”
“Finger Rock!” exclaimed Tad. “Why, that must be five miles!”
“Just about.” Kitty consulted his pedometer. “A little less, I think. This thing says nine and about a half. Fine day for walking, though.”
“Isn’t it?” agreed Matty. “And—and are your lungs pretty well, Phineas?”
Kitty nodded gravely. “Yes, thanks; can expand eight inches now. Never felt better than I do this fall. Think football is good for me, too. Think I can observe a slight—slight benefit.”