“I withdraw the darling,” said Pa.
“That’s a pious boy! Now again:—You were always—”
“You were always,” repeated Pa.
“A vexatious—”
“No you weren’t,” said Pa.
“A vexatious (do you hear, sir?), a vexatious, capricious, thankless, troublesome, animal; but I hope you’ll do better in the time to come, and I bless you and forgive you!” Here, she quite forgot that it was Pa’s turn to make the responses, and clung to his neck. “Dear Pa, if you knew how much I think this morning of what you told me once, about the first time of our seeing old Mr. Harmon, when I stamped and screamed and beat you with my detestable little bonnet! I feel as if I had been stamping and screaming and beating you with my hateful little bonnet, ever since I was born, darling!”
“Nonsense, my love. And as to your bonnets, they have always been nice bonnets, for they have always become you—or you have become them; perhaps it was that—at every age.”
“Did I hurt you much, poor little Pa?” asked Bella, laughing (notwithstanding her repentance), with fantastic pleasure in the picture, “when I beat you with my bonnet?”
“No, my child. Wouldn’t have hurt a fly!”
“Ay, but I am afraid I shouldn’t have beat you at all, unless I had meant to hurt you,” said Bella. “Did I pinch your legs, Pa?”
“Not much, my dear; but I think it’s almost time I—”