It was perhaps a half-hour later that Helen Blake came tripping into the gymnasium, radiant, sparkling, her crisp white dress touched here and there with blue that matched her eyes, in her hands a sunshade, a novel, and a mysterious little bundle.
"We were so sorry to lose you at breakfast," she began.
Wally led her to the cosey-corner, and seated himself beside her.
"I suppose it is a part of this horrid training. I would never have mentioned that foot-race if I had dreamed it would be like this."
Here at least was a soul that sympathized.
"The only hardship is not to see you," he declared softly.
Miss Blake dropped her eyes.
"I thought you might like to go walking; it's a gorgeous morning. You see, I've brought a book to read to you while you rest—you must be tired after your run."
"I am, and I will. This is awfully good of you, Miss Blake." Speed rose, overwhelmed with joy, but the look of Glass was not to be passed by. "I-I'm afraid it's impossible, however." The blue eyes flew open in astonishment. "Why?" the girl questioned.
"They won't let me. I—I'm supposed to keep to myself."