They'd better not try.

This isn't a woman's problem, to be solved by argument.

It's a man's fight!" "But if you would just make up your mind, you could win." "Could I ?" His tone was amusedly skeptical, but his eyes were still somber.
"Even a woman," she said impatiently, "knows that is not the way to win a fight--to send for the enemy and give him all your weapons, and a plan of the fortifications, and the password; when you know there's no mercy to be hoped for!" He smiled at her simile, and at her earnestness also, perhaps; but that black gloom remained, looking out of his eyes.
"What made you send for it?
A whole gallon!" "I didn't send for it.

That jug belongs to Mose," he told her simply.
"Dick told me Mose had it; rather, Dick went into the kitchen and got it, and turned it over to me." In spite of the words, he did not give one the impression that he was defending himself; he was merely offering an explanation because she seemed to demand one.
"Dick got it and turned it over to you!" Her forehead wrinkled again into vertical lines.

She studied him frowningly.