But Old Man Smith didn't give it to her. He just sat and stared at her eyes.
Her eyes never moved from the shining bit of glass. They looked awful funny. Bigger and bigger they got! And rounder and rounder! And stiller and stiller!
It was like a puppy-dog pointing a little bird in the grass. It made you feel queer. It made you feel all sort of hollow inside. It made your legs wobble.
Carol's mouth was wide open.
So was Old Man Smith's.
Old Man Smith reached out suddenly and put the shining bit of glass right into Annie Halliway's hand. It fell through her fingers. But her hand stayed just where it was, reaching out into the air.
"Put down your arm!" said Old Man Smith.
Annie Halliway put it down. Her eyes were still staring very wide.
"Look!" said Old Man Smith. "Look!" He dropped several pieces of colored glass china into her lap.
She chose the handle of a red tea cup and a little chunk of yellow crockery. She stared and stared at them. But all the time it was as though her eyes didn't see them. All the time it was as though she was looking at something very far away. Then all of a sudden she began to jingle them together in her hand,—the little piece of red china and the chunk of yellow bowl! And swing her shoulders! And stamp her foot! It looked like dancing. It sounded like clappers.