"How, funny?"
"I don't know. Sort of cold and then hot and then cold—and kind of trembly. That's why I didn't hit Luther on the head instead of down on his back."
"Now, Cyrus Alton, you go straight home and tell your father just how you feel. Tell him all about it." Then, with increasing severity: "It's a shame you haven't got a mother. I believe it is because you are bad and that's the way God punishes you."
Then she turned away and started on again, Cyrus close behind. In front of her own home she stopped suddenly and wheeled about;—so suddenly that Cyrus walked against her. He took a backward step, and as they looked into each other's faces he said, quietly:
"No, it doesn't."
Ruth's eyes opened wide, in surprise. "Doesn't what?"
"It doesn't mean what you asked."
"But, Drowsy, I didn't ask anything!"
"You thought it, though."