"Janet! You mustn't speak of your mother like that. She is ill. She lay awake the whole night and didn't touch a morsel of food all day."
"No doubt she enjoyed tormenting herself and blaming the result on me. But I don't believe that my absence was really a source of worry to anyone."
"Janet, I stayed up until three o'clock for you. And that was after leaving the bank late and stopping at the Montague Library to get the books you wanted."
"Of course, you did, you foolish old dear," said Janet, in an access of remorse.
She put her arms affectionately round his neck. It was not easy to get over her childhood idolatry of him.
"Kindness is a bad habit of yours, papa," she said. "You take to good deeds as some men take to gambling or to drink."
He smiled and patted her cheek tenderly. Her remark was not far from the truth. His morbid (and never wholly gratified) passion for approval made him intemperately anxious to please, and caused his good nature to be freely exploited by unscrupulous people, who repaid him with nothing but their contempt.
"That's like my own little Jenny. Now go up to Emily's room and make your peace with mother."
"Is that in my power?" said Janet, flaring up again and disengaging her arms from him.
Mr. Barr was torn between fear of his wife and affection for his daughter.