The other said: "Isn't he funny!"
In one of these persons Cyrus recognized the girl who made faces at him in church. As they stood smiling, brimming over with mischief, he arose, lifted his hat and made a sweeping bow, as d'Artagnan might have saluted Anne of Austria. It was so well done, with so much grace and solemnity, that the two girls were startled. Things of that sort had never occurred in Longfields. The girls giggled. They believed he was "showing off" to amuse them. But he was not showing off. It was merely his usual manner of saluting ladies. When the hat was again on his head, he looked calmly at the girl with the eyes and inquired:
"Why did you call me stupid?"
For an instant she was taken aback. Then with a smile of defiance:
"Because you look stupid."
"But I am not."
"Well you look so, anyway; doesn't he, Martha?"
Martha nodded and giggled endorsement. But Ruth Heywood herself stopped giggling, and said more seriously:
"It's your eyes that are funny. They are half awake. They are so drowsy they make me sleepy to look at them. Can't you open them wider?"
Cyrus made no answer because he could think of nothing to say. But as the heavy lidded eyes looked into Ruth Heywood's, with their supernatural tranquility, it seemed to the maiden as if the accumulated wisdom of mankind was rebuking and despising her. The same expression came into her face that came there in church; a rapid change from bantering gayety to doubt and misgiving. But she wheeled about, with an air of indifference, and walked away, leading the devoted Martha. A little way off she turned her head and called to him: