I have always had a suspicion that Aunt Dahlia, while invariably matey and bonhomous and seeming to take pleasure in my society, has a lower opinion of my intelligence than I quite like. Too often it is her practice to address me as 'fathead', and if I put forward any little thought or idea or fancy in her hearing it is apt to be greeted with the affectionate but jarring guffaw.
The narrator feels that Aunt Dahlia, despite her friendly and jovial demeanor, actually underestimates his intelligence. This suspicion is reinforced by her habit of calling him 'fathead,' which suggests a patronizing attitude. His attempts to share ideas often elicit a dismissive laugh from her, indicating that she does not take him seriously. This dynamic between them leads him to question how she truly views his intellect and capabilities.
The narrator's observations...
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All the things you can talk about in anyone's work are the things that are least important.
Race of Cain, ascend to heaven, And cast God down upon the earth!
