"Yes, but I hadn't spoken a word. How could you tell what I was going to say?" "Oh, I dunno. I can often do that." "Yes, you have done it before, but how do you do it? How do you know? Just guess at it?" "No. It sort of comes--as if--well--just the usual way--only without the words waiting to be spoken. I guess it's natural enough." "Natural enough! Why, it's most mysterious. Nobody else does it." "Oh, p'r'aps lots of people do it. We don't know everybody." "But if many people did it we should have heard about them. No, it's very mysterious. Why, Drowsy, I had just opened my lips to say your being such a liar now proves you will be a dishonest man and you said, before I uttered a word, 'No, it doesn't.'" Cyrus smiled. "I guess it must be a sort of telegraphing without wires, like that man Marconi has just discovered." For a moment they stood in silence, Ruth looking earnestly into the boy's slumbrous, half smiling eyes, trying vainly to explain the unexplainable. "It's all the harder to understand," she said, "because you could only see the back of my head. And this horrid storm was blowing between us." "Yes, it's funny, and I dunno much about it. But I believe I could get it if I wasn't seeing you at all; I mean, if you were way off, out of sight." "Really?" "Yes, sir! I believe I could. Let's try it some day. Will you?" "Yes, little Drowsy, when ever you say." Once more she laid a hand against his face. "Your cheeks are hot again. Now you go straight home and tell your father just how you feel, and have Joanna sew on that button. Will you?" "Yep. All right." He started off. About a dozen yards away he stopped and looked back. She was still standing where he left her, and was watching him. The obvious lack of confidence in his promise--or her air of authority with all this military discipline caused a momentary revolt. He picked up a handful of snow, rolled it quickly in a ball and threw it. She saw it coming, but merely bent her head and lifted an arm in protection. 'Twas a good shot. But the snowball, being soft, merely broke against her arm. Ruth lowered the arm and raised her head, slowly and calmly, as a Guardian Angel who is invulnerable to earthly weapons. She pointed toward his home. Cyrus raised his cap, moved it grandly through the air in a sweeping curve, bowed very low, then turned and marched away. He walked with no suspicion of pursuit. But Ruth had obeyed a sudden impulse. She started forward on a run, and when close behind him gave a sudden push with both hands. He tumbled forward into a drift and rolled over on his back. As he started to get up, she pounced on him with all her weight. Then with both knees on his chest she rubbed his face with snow. Had the assailant been another boy, Cyrus would have kicked and struck and fought him off. But you do not kick and strike your aunts, your mother or your best girl. So, he merely pushed and wriggled about, with eyes and mouth tight shut.