"Nobody would be more heartily rejoiced, I'm sure, than I should," his sister answered, "if she would take a journey in that direction: only there isn't time to learn another play. So you'll have to ask him."
"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Will said. "It's your place."
"I'll never ask him to do any thing. He's too stubborn to live, and he treats me abominably."
"Then, you should heap coals of fire on his head by inviting him to take this part, that nobody but Sol Shankland would have anyway."
"When I heap coals of fire," she returned vigorously, "I want them to burn: I want at least to be able to smell the scorched hair."
"I think you will have that satisfaction," her brother replied, "if you'll walk into his office this afternoon, and tell him there is no one in the three towns can act as well as he can, and ask will he please be that drivelling idiot of a patriarch."
"I'll do nothing of the kind. Besides, I'm going to ride with Clarence Toxteth this afternoon."
"He's always dangling round you nowadays, it seems to me."
"Well, I can't help that, can I?"
"You could if you wanted to. If you married anybody for his money, Patty, I'd never speak to you again."