"There must be some way, Mr. Philip!" exclaimed Eliza, who had listened attentively. The intensity of her manner reminded Phil of other days.
"You should have more stables on the island," he returned. "It's very thoughtless of you."
"We can all help him, remember, Eliza," said Mrs. Wright—"you know I've told you—by thinking right."
"Goodness knows, I'd think anything that'd keep him here," returned Eliza bluntly. "He's as white as a candle, and it makes me sick to think o' the perspiration runnin' into his eyes. What d'you want me to think? I'll say the moon's made o' green cheese, if it'll do any good."
"No, it only does good to think the truth. It's law. You remember how I've told you that we live under laws and they aren't material ones? Our thoughts are our whole concern. Get thought right, and action takes care of itself. You're stopping up one of the channels through which good can come to you and yours. You consider Mr. Sidney one of yours, I'm sure."
Eliza averted her eyes uncomfortably.
"Yes," went on Mrs. Wright, smiling, "I'm speaking right out in meeting, because you've told me that Mr. Sidney knows of your antagonism."
"She's talkin' about the barrel," remarked Eliza dryly.
"Oh, the barrel!" laughed Phil. "I'd forgotten about that. So has Aunt Isabel, I fancy."
"I'll bet a cookie she went to your room and tried to get it," said Eliza, eyeing him shrewdly.