Even the sophomore was surprised into expressing his incredulity.
"Colored glasses on account of the glare of the snow," said Miss Cantillon.
"Fact, in Siberia. I read it in the papers."
"Isn't it wonderful the things she knows?" said Vivi admiringly. "Do you like brainy women?"
"That depends," said Skippy while he stopped to consider. "I don't know any."
"Oh what a dreadful cynical remark!" said Vivi with another admiring look. "Heavens, I shall be frightened to death what I say to you. I'm sure you're awfully clever yourself. Perhaps I'll have a chance. Clever men hate clever women, don't they?"
"There is certainly something about my particular style of beauty that's bowled her over," thought Skippy to himself.
"Oh I don't know," he said, fatuously unconscious of the virtues he conceded to himself. "Dolly Travers was quite clever, you know."
"Brute!" said Miss Balou for the second time.
"I think you'd be lots of excitement at a house party," said Miss Vivi, shaking her head. "Just for a few days. I think you'd give a girl the grandest sort of a rush, but as for believing a word you said--never!"
"What do you mean?" said Skippy, immensely puffed up.
"It shows in your eyes," said Vivi with a look of having at last deciphered the mystery. "Besides, girls have spoiled you. You have had things too easily. No wonder you're conceited."
Miss Cantillon was discoursing brilliantly on a crow that had been struck by lightning in Oklahoma and had fallen into a wheat field and set fire to the grain, which had precipitated a conflagration which had necessitated calling out the fire departments of two counties.
"You're offended now," said Vivi in a contrite whisper.
"Some one's given you an awfully bad opinion of me," said Skippy stiffly, frowning to show the displeasure he did not feel.
"Oh that!" said Skippy burying the memory with a wave of his hand.
"You see you _are_ a brute! Well I don't mind. I like your hands."
Skippy took a precautionary glance at the ends of his baseball fingers and then allowed them to come to rest on the tablecloth.
"Now you're trying to jolly me," he said astutely.
"No. I always notice hands the first thing. They tell so much about your character. I saw yours at once."