bereaved irony:

"That's _done_ it!"




CHAPTER IV: THE WISH


i

Waiting until she had a little recovered her self-control, Jenny
presently moved from the door to the fireplace, and proceeded
methodically to put coals on the fire. She was still shaking slightly,
and the corners of her mouth were uncontrollably twitching with
alternate smiles and other raiding emotions; so that she did not yet
feel in a fit state to meet Pa's scrutiny. He might be the old fool he
sometimes appeared to be, and, inconveniently, he might not. Just
because she did not want him to be particularly bright it was quite
probable that he would have a flourish of brilliance. That is as it
occasionally happens, in the dullest of mortals. So Jenny was some time
in attending to the fire, until she supposed that any undue redness of
cheek might be imagined to have been occasioned by her strenuous
activities. She then straightened herself and looked down at Pa with a
curious mixture of protectiveness and anxiety.

"Pleased with yourself, aren't you?" she inquired, more to make
conversation which might engage the ancient mind in ruminant pastime
than to begin any series of inquiries into Pa's mental states.