"Was it Mr.
Speed's idea?"
"Yes. He wanted training-quarters."
"It's a joke, isn't it?"
"I don't think so. Mr. Fresno, why do you dislike Mr. Speed?"
Fresno bent a warm glance upon the questioner. "Don't you know?"
Helen shook her head with bland innocence. "Then you _do_
dislike him?"
"No, indeed! _I_ like him--he makes me laugh." Helen bridled
loyally. "Did you see those medals he wore yesterday?" the young
man queried.
"Of course, and I thought them beautiful."
"How were they inscribed? He wouldn't let me examine them."
"Naturally. If I had trophies like that I would guard them too."
Fresno nodded, musingly. "I gave mine away."
"Oh, are you an athlete?"
"No, but I timed a foot-race once. They gave me a beautiful
nearly-bronze emblem so that I could get into the infield."
"And did you win?"
"No! no! I didn't run! Don't you understand? I was an official."
Fresno was vexed at the girl's lack of perception. "I'm not an
athlete, Miss Blake. I'm just an ordinary sort of a chap." He led
her to a seat, while Jean enlisted the aid of Larry Glass and
completed the finishing touches to the decorations.
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