On the contrary, they actually increased it with each
fleeting block they covered.
"Here!" he panted, when they had thus put something more than a
half-mile behind them. "There isn't anybody has to have a doctor,
I guess! What's the use our walkin' so fast?"
In truth, Penrod was not walking, for his shorter legs permitted
no actual walking at such a speed; his gait was a half-trot.
"Oh, WE'RE out for a WALK!" Mr. Blakely returned, a note of
gayety beginning to sound in his voice. "Marg--ah--Miss
Schofield, keep your head up and breathe through your nose.
That's it! You'll find I was right in suggesting this. It's going
to turn out gloriously! Now, let's make it a little faster."
Margaret murmured inarticulately, for she would not waste her
breath in a more coherent reply. Her cheeks were flushed; her
eyes were brimming with the wind, but when she looked at Penrod,
they were brimming with something more. Gurgling sounds came from
her.
Penrod's expression had become grim. He offered no second
protest, mainly because he, likewise, would not waste his breath,
and if he would, he could not.
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