"It is pretty easy to take," admitted Herb, as he proceeded to dispose
of his share in a workmanlike manner. "This is regular angel's food,
Bob."
"Yes, it was made especially for me," said Bob, trying to look like
an angel, but falling considerably short of the mark. It is hard for
any one to look very angelic with a big piece of apple pie in one
hand and a glass of milk in the other.
"Suppose you cut out the angel business and hand me over another piece
of that pie," suggested Jimmy. "If you're an angel, Bob, I hope to die
a horrible death from slow starvation, and I can't say any more than
that, can I?"
"You'd better speak nicely to me, or you won't get another piece,"
threatened Bob, holding a wedge of pie temptingly in Jimmy's
direction. "Am I an angel, Doughnuts, or not? Yes--pie. No--no pie."
"Of course you are, Bob, and you know I always loved you." Bob passed
him the pie, and Jimmy clutched it securely.
"Thanks, you big hobo," he grinned.
"There's gratitude for you," said Bob, appealing to the others. "He
knows the pie is all gone now, so he thinks he can insult me and get
away with it."
"So I can," said Jimmy complacently. "You know you could never get
along without my advice and help, Bob. You need somebody around you
with brains, to make up for Joe and Herb."
"That pie must have gone to your head," said Joe.
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