"Yes," he laughed; "I'm going to look for a cave with a skylight."
Eliza's thoughts were painfully busy. The constant dropping of the winter had made an impression on their adamant. Supposing there should be anything in what Mrs. Wright just said. Supposing God were to punish her for continuing to hate an enemy; punish her by holding back some benefit from her dear one's protégé.
She stirred around in her chair during a pause. "I've been thinkin' to-day," she said carelessly, "that I didn't exactly know what I was goin' to do with that barrel. I've got to bring it down from upstairs before Jennie gets here."
"Let me do that for you," said Phil quickly. "I've been honing to lift something heavy all the afternoon. I've felt as if I could lick my weight in wild cats ever since dinner."
He started up with such eagerness that Eliza mechanically arose and went to the stairs, Phil following; and Mrs. Wright, a hopeful light in her eyes, looked on.
"We've got to get these rooms ready for boarders," explained Eliza as they went up to the second story. "It's real clever of you to lug the barrel down for me."
Phil smiled covertly as he recognized the old bone of contention with the flourishing address he had executed, and he steered it down the narrow stairs successfully.
Eliza had preceded him nimbly.
As soon as she reached the living-room, Mrs. Wright approached her.