"Why do you want to run?"
"To win back the cowboys' treasure. My heart is touched," he
declared, boldly. Mrs. Keap smiled.
"I believe the latter, but are you sure you can win?"
"Abso-blooming-lutely."
"I didn't know you were a sprinter."
Speed shrugged his shoulders.
"Have you had experience?"
"Oceans of it!"
Mrs. Keap mused for a moment. "Tell me," said she, finally, "at
what intercollegiate game did you run last?"
"I didn't run last; I ran first." It was impossible to resent the
boy's smile.
"Then at what game did you last run? I hope I'm not too curious?"
"Oh no, not at all!" Speed stammered.
"Or, if it is easier, at what college games did you first run?"
Mrs. Keap was laughing openly now.
"Why the clear, ringing, rippling laughter?" asked the young man,
to cover his confusion.
"Because I think it is very funny."
"Oh, you do!" Speed took refuge behind an attitude of unbending
dignity, but the young widow would have none of it.
"I know all about you," said she. "You are a very wonderful
person, of course; you are a delightful fellow at a house-party,
and a most suitable individual generally, but you are not an
athlete, in spite of those beautiful clothes in your trunk.
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