frantic delight to the child; this nonsense; after her years
with her mother; after the poignant folk…tales she had had from
her mother; which always troubled and mystified her soul。
She shared a sort of recklessness with her father; a
plete; chosen carelessness that had the laugh of ridicule in
it。 He loved to make her voice go high and shouting and defiant
with laughter。 The baby was dark…skinned and dark…haired; like
the mother; and had hazel eyes。 Brangwen called him the
blackbird。
〃Hallo;〃 Brangwen would cry; starting as he heard the wail of
the child announcing it wanted to be taken out of the cradle;
〃theres the blackbird tuning up。〃
〃The blackbirds singing;〃 Anna would shout with delight;
〃the blackbirds singing。〃
〃When the pie was opened;〃 Brangwen shouted in his bawling
bass voice; going over to the cradle; 〃the bird began to
sing。〃
〃Wasnt it a dainty dish to set before a king?〃 cried Anna;
her eyes flashing with joy as she uttered the cryptic words;
looking at Brangwen for confirmation。 He sat down with the baby;
saying loudly:
〃Sing up; my lad; sing up。〃
And the baby cried loudly; and Anna shouted lustily; dancing
in wild bliss:
〃Sing a song of sixpence
Pocketful of posies;
Ascha! Ascha!〃
Then she stopped suddenly in silence and looked at Brangwen
again; her eyes flashing; as she shouted loudly and
delightedly:
〃Ive got it wrong; Ive got it wrong。〃
〃Oh; my sirs;〃 said Tilly entering; 〃what a ra