She felt her powerlessness, and that concession must precede victory.
“Then, give me the umbrella,” said Sam, who evidently distrusted her.
“You'll run off with it,” said Mrs. Payson suspiciously.
“No, I won't.”
“Well, there 'tis.”
“Come here, Pomp, and help me,” said Sam.
Pomp held aloof.
“She'll whip me,” he said, shaking his head. “She's an old debble.”
“Oh, you—you sarpint!” ejaculated the old lady, almost speechless with indignation.
“You can run away as soon as she gets out,” suggested Sam.