The blow made his half-filled glass jump and clinkle; so he emptied it slowly, then poured in four fingers more, forgetting to add water this time, and sullenly pushed the bottle across to Pearl. But Pearl was fretful. Her watery blue eyes were fixed upon the drumhead of the banjo, where it hung suspended above the melodeon.
"I did so paint them flowers. And well you know it. What's the good of bein' so mean? If you wasn't heeled you'd let me have it my way. Didn't I bring that banjo with me?"
"Hungh! Say you did. What does that prove?"
"I guess it proves somethin', all right."
"Proves you swiped it, likely."
"Me! I ain't that kind, thanks."
"If you're tryin' to get gay, cut it out!"
"Not me."
"Well, then—quit!"