"Will I! Well, you can guess again, young man." Eliza's eyes flashed.
"Oh, pshaw," he said. "Don't make two bites of a cherry. If the barrel goes, you go."
Eliza met his gay, determined look with exasperation.
"This is persecution," she declared angrily; then added beseechingly, "Don't make me, Mr. Philip."
"I couldn't let you miss it," he returned. "We have the white hair of the black dog, but, you see, we have to burn it."
Eliza looked appealingly toward Mrs. Wright, whose face was expectant.
"Dear Eliza," she said.
"Don't you 'dear' me," snapped Eliza. "Come this way, Mr. Philip."
She marched out of the room, and Mrs. Wright seized and squeezed Phil's hand as he passed. He gave her a laughing look.