"Indeed not! I wouldn't think of liking anybody who deceived me as you have done. All these years you have left me under the impression that you are Pennsylvania Dutch and now Mother Bab says you are part Irish."
"Little saucebox! What about yourself? You can't make me believe that you are pure, unadulterated Pennsylvania Dutch. There's some alien blood in you, by the ways of you. Have you seen Phares this afternoon?" he asked irrelevantly.
"Phares? No. Why?"
"He went down past the field some time ago. Said he's going to Greenwald and means to stop and ask you to go to a sale with him next week. He said you mentioned some time ago that you'd like to go to a real old-fashioned one and he heard of one coming off next week and thought you might like to go."
"I surely want to go. Don't you want to come, too, David? And Mother Bab?"
But David shook his head. "And spoil Phares's party," he said. "Phares wouldn't thank us."
Phœbe shrugged her shoulders. "Ach, David Eby, you're silly! Just as though I want to go to a sale all alone with Phares! He can take the big carriage and take us all."
"He can but he won't want to." David showed an irritating wisdom. "When I invite you to come on a party with me I won't want Phares tagging after, either. Two's company."
"Two's boredom sometimes," she said so ambiguously that the man laughed heartily and Mother Bab smiled in amusement.
"Come now, Phœbe," David said, "just because you put your hair up you mustn't think you can rule us all and don grown-up airs."