In the first place, he had become warmly attached to his daughter, of whom, moreover, he was vastly proud, so that he had felt the deprivation when she had gone back to Axmouth; and secondly, he was aware that he was afflicted with an incurable complaint, and the thought of dying in solitude without a loving hand to smooth his pillow filled him with dismay.
During the absence of Winefred he had thought much of this.
'Miss Jesse was wrong,' said he, 'in her allusion to my head of hair. I do not wear a wig. I have my hair dressed by a French barber before I leave the house, but it is my own hair. You may pull a lock if you doubt my word. I am positively not so old as some persons are disposed to make me. I may look a little aged—of late. I have had a trying life; and recent troubles of mind—relative to what the doctors have told me—have had their effect on me. May I ask you to favour me by pouring out the tea?'
Presently he said, 'I like crumpets. They crunch like hard biscuits, but have no deleterious effect on the teeth.'
'Are you fond of hard biscuits, father?'
'Of Abernethies I have always been fond. I even enjoyed a ship-biscuit once, when the world was young, and when—when I first knew your mother.' He sighed deeply.
'Were you thinking of her, papa?'
'To be honest, of Abernethy biscuits. I did relish them. I shall never eat one again.'
'Why not?'