“I think we had better show Mr. Newbold our new running-track while we are waiting. He is so interested in such things, and he might suggest some improvements.” And then Newbold felt himself irresistibly compelled to walk on farther and farther. He wondered sadly why they thought _he_ knew anything about running-tracks for girls, and decided that his humorous remarks on the subject in his article had been a great mistake. “Do you think it’s a fair track?” inquired Miss Yale, anxiously, as they came in sight of it. “It is an eight-lap track, you see, and of course a great many girls only go around four times at first--girls get tired so absurdly easy! Now I suppose men think nothing of making two miles at a time--it is just play for them. Men are so strong--that is their greatest fascination, I think,” she ran on enthusiastically. “Haven’t you seen foot-ball players after a hard practice game start off and run two miles around the track, and seem to think absolutely nothing of it?” “Oh, that’s nothing,” said Newbold, unwarily and warmly. “Fellows are so different from girls, you know. A girl cries when she’s tired, doesn’t she? Well, a man just keeps going, you know, and doesn’t let it make any difference to him.” “I am so glad to hear that, Mr. Newbold,” said Miss Yale, with prompt and suspicious sympathy, and a sudden firmness of tone, “because I wanted dreadfully to ask you to try the track, but hated to do so, for I knew you were tired--at least you look so. But since you just keep going, and it doesn’t make any difference to you, why I would be so awfully obliged if you would run around three or four times. I want to see just how you hold your head and arms. I don’t believe we do it in the best way, you know.” It was a rare and pleasingly curious sight that Miss Yale and Miss Thayer and a great many other young women assembled near the track, apparently by a strange coincidence, looked upon. It is not often that one has the chance of seeing an immaculately dressed youth, with flushed and desperate countenance, tear madly around an eight-lap track in the presence of a number of flatteringly attentive young women. It occurred to Newbold as he dashed around and around that it would be far preferable to keep going until he fainted away or dropped dead, than to stop and encounter the remarks and glances of those young women. They would at least feel sorry for him in that case, he thought, gloomily. But even that modest and simple desire was not granted him. As he started on the fifth lap he heard Miss Yale call to him to stop. He had a wild inclination to pay no attention to her, but to keep going on and on, but as he got nearer he saw her step out toward him and put up a warning hand. “Thank you so much,” she said, warmly. “I think we have all had a lesson in running which we shall not forget soon. I hope you are not tired?” she went on, anxiously.