careful.... Don't get leaving themselves about like they used to."

Pa Blanchard had no suggestion. Such perilous ideas, so frequently
started by Jenny for his mystification, joggled together in his brain
and made there the subject of a thousand ruminations. They tantalised
Pa's slowly revolving thoughts, and kept these moving through long hours
of silence. Such notions preserved his interest in the world, and his
senile belief in Magic, as nothing else could have done.

Together, their pace suited to his step, the two moved slowly to the
door. It took a long time to make the short journey, though Jenny
supported her father on the one side and he used a stick in his right
hand. In the passage he waited while she blew out his candle; and then
they went forward to the meal. At the approach Pa's eyes opened wider,
and luminously glowed.

"Is there dumplings?" he quivered, seeming to tremble with excitement.

"One for you, Pa!" cried Emmy from the kitchen. Pa gave a small chuckle
of joy. His progress was accelerated. They reached the table, and Emmy
took his right arm for the descent into a substantial chair. Upon Pa's
plate glistened a fair dumpling, a glorious mountain of paste amid the
wreckage of meat and gravy. "And now, perhaps," Emmy went on, smoothing
back from her forehead a little streamer of hair, "you'll close the
door, Jenny...."

It was closed with a bang that made Pa jump and Emmy look savagely up.

"Sorry!" cried Jenny. "How's that dumpling, Pa?" She sat recklessly at
the table.