"Play it, then, you mean thing," she cried, flouncing off the stool, "if it's going to do you any good!"
Sissy hardened. She had a way of becoming adamant on rare occasions that really struck terror to Split's facile soul, which resented a grudge promptly and as promptly forgot all about it.
"I don't care to play it," said Sissy, loftily.
"Well—I want you to—now."
"'Play it, then, you mean thing,' she cried, ... 'if it's going to do you any good!'"
"But I don't want to."
"Ain't you going to give me my lesson, then?" demanded Split, hoarsely. "I thought you were so anxious to help me!"
Sissy was mute. Hers was a strong position, she felt.
"D' ye expect me to get down on my knees?" Irene's wrathful voice rose, and her unstable temper rocked threateningly. A Madigan would willingly have been flayed alive rather than apologize in so many words.