On dispersing for the Night, he noted, somewhat hurt, Anne's abrupt
Departure without kissing his Hand, and sayd, "Is she sulky or unwell?"
In our Chamber, found her alreadie half undrest, a reading of her Bible; sayd, "Father tooke your briefe Good-nighte amisse." She made Answer shortlie, "Well, what neede to marvell; he cannot put his Arm about me without being reminded how mis-shapen I am."
Poor Nan! we had been speaking of faire Proportions, and had thoughtlessly cut her to the Quick; yet Father knoweth, though he cannot see, that her Face is that of an Angel.
About One o' the Clock, was rouzed (though Anne continued sleeping soundly) by hearing Father give his three Signal-taps agaynst the Wall. Half drest, and with bare Feet thrust into Slippers, I hastily ran in to him; he cried, "Deb, for the Love of Heaven get Pen and Paper to sett Something down." I replied, "Sure, Father, you gave me quite a Turn; I thought you were ill," and sett to my Task, marvellous ill-conditioned, expecting some Crotchet had taken him concerning his Will.
'Stead of which, out comes a Volley of Poetry he had lain a brewing till his Brain was like to burst; and soe I, in my thin Night Cotes, must needs jot it all down, for Feare it should ooze away before Morning. Sure, I thought he never woulde get to the End, and really feared at firste he was crazing a little, but indeede all Poets doe when the Vein is on 'em. At length, with a Sigh of Relief, he says, "That will doe—Good-night, little Maid." I coulde not help saying, "'Twas a lucky Thing for you, Father, that Step-mother was from Home;" he laught, drew me to him, kissed me, and sayd, "Why, your Face is quite cold—are your Feet unslippered?"
"Unstockinged," I replyed.
"I am quite concerned I knew it not sooner," he rejoyned, in an Accent of such Kindnesse, that all my Vexation melted away, and I e'en protested I did not mind it a Bit.
"Since it is soe," quoth he, "I shall the less mind having Recourse to you agayn; onlie I must insist on your taking Care to wrap yourself up more warmly, since you need not feare my being ill."
I bit my Lip, and onlie saying Good-night, stole off to my warm Bed.
Returning from Morning Prayers with Anne this Forenoon, I found Mary mending a Pen with the utmost Imperturbabilitie, and Father with a Heat-spot on his Cheek, which betraied some Inquietation. Being presentlie alone with him, "Mary is irretrievably heavy," sighs he, "she would let the finest Thought escape one while she is blowing her Nose or brushing up the Cinders. I am confident she has beene writing Nonsense even now—Do run through it for me, Deb, and lett me heare what it is."