interfere with her impassioned putting-to-bed of her Kewpies.
She was dressed in a woolly bath robe, her hair braided in two stiff little braids that stack out aggressively at an angle. She covered and tucked up her dolls with still intensity, making sure they were tucked in head and foot, and that no amount of kicking on their part would disturb their well-adjusted bedclothes. Now and then she looked over her shoulder at her mother with the air of a dog with a bone.
There is nothing more concentrated, nothing more potentially fierce which occurs before our eyes than the common spectacle of a dog with a bone. Only that we are used to it, and because dogs are smaller than we, do our hearts fail to shake before the spectacle of the tearing and rending, the wild and defiant glances, with savagery only two steps off and the jungle just around the corner.
