She laughed, leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knee, and her chin in her hand, so that the shadow of her hat shielded her eyes from the light. "I thought you looked surprised when you saw me to day."
"I reckon I did!" he exclaimed. "Who wouldn't of been?"
"Why?"
"Why?" he repeated, confounded by her simplicity. "Why?"
"Yes," she laughed. "That's what I'm anxious to know."
"Wasn't the whole town the same way?" he demanded. "Did you meet anybody that didn't look surprised?"
"But why should they?"
"Good Lord Admighty!" he broke out. "Ain't you got any lookin'-glasses?"
"I think almost all I have are still in the customs warehouse."
"Then use Mamie Pike's," responded the old man. "The town never dreamed you were goin' to turn out pretty at all, let alone the WAY you've turned out pretty! The Tocsin had a good deal about your looks and so forth in it once, in a letter from Paris, but the folks that remembered you kind of set that down to the way papers talk about anybody with money, and nobody was prepared for it when they saw you. You don't need to drop no curtseys to ME." He set his mouth grimly, in response to the bow she made him. "I think female beauty is like all other human furbelows, and as holler as heaven will be if only the good people are let in! But yet I did stop to look at you when you went past me to-day, and I kept on lookin', long as you were in sight. I reckon I always will, when I git the chance, too—only shows what human nature IS! But that wasn't all that folks were starin' at to-day. It was your walkin' with Joe Louden that really finished 'em, and I can say it upset me more than anything I've seen for a good many years."