"Papa," she ventured to say, "have you heard all I have been saying?"
"Yes, child."
Silence again for a few minutes, then—"Catherine, did you ever know me do a good action in your life?"
"Dear papa, what a question."
"Did you ever know me, I say, to do one thoroughly generous, benevolent action, without regard to self in the slightest degree—such as I call—such as alone merits the name of a really good action? If you ever did, I can't easily forgive you."
"Dearest papa! what have I done? Did I ever say? Did I ever hint? Dear papa!" and she looked ready to cry.
"Did you ever?—no—I know you never did."
"Don't say so—don't think so badly of me, papa."
"I'm not thinking badly of you, child—God forbid; for well he knows if I ever did one really generous, benevolent action—one without reference to self.... Heaven bless thee, thou dearest thing, thy life seems only made up of such actions; but I say again, did you ever?—No; I know you never did—and I'll tell you why I know it."
"Ah, papa! What can you mean?"