"He doesn't act that way when he is glad about things.

You see," she added, with the air of a Mrs.Methusaleh, "Petunia and I know him better than you do, Mamma; we've had more chances to get--to get acquainted." Perhaps an hour later there was another knock at the kitchen door.
Mrs.Armstrong, when she opened it, found her landlord standing there, one of his largest windmills--a toy at least three feet high--in his arms.

He bore it into the kitchen and stood it in the middle of the floor, holding the mammoth thing, its peaked roof high above his head, and peering solemnly out between one of its arms and its side.
"Why, Mr.Winslow!" exclaimed Mrs.Armstrong.
"Yes, ma'am," said Jed.

"I--I fetched it for Babbie.

I just kind of thought maybe she'd like it." Barbara clasped her hands.
"Oh!" she exclaimed.