"Why? How do you feel?"
"Oh, sort of--sort of--funny."
"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."