He looked at the dedication for a longer time than he had looked at the title-page, and his hand trembled a little as he held the paper.
"I thought you wouldn't mind, father!" Henry said.
"Mind!" Mr. Quinn replied. "No, I don't, Henry. I ... I like it, my son. Thanks, Henry. I ..." He got up and moved quickly towards the window. "I'll just go in an' start readin' it now," he said.
2
He returned the manuscript to Henry on the following afternoon. "I've read worse," he said.
He walked to the end of the terrace and then walked back again. Then he shouted for William Henry Matier, who came running to him. He pointed to a daisy on the lawn and asked the gardener what the hell he meant by not keeping the weeds down.
"Ah, sure, sir!..."
"Root the damn thing up," Mr. Quinn shouted at him, "an' don't let me see another about the place or I'll shoot the boots off you! I don't know under God what I keep you for!"
"Now, you don't mean the half you say, sir!..."
"You're not worth ninepence a week!"