"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. "We'd better try to get him home where they can take care of him, Herb. He'll probably be telling us he's Napoleon, if we let him get a little crazier."
"I'm going right away, anyway," said Jimmy, hunting back of the door for his cap. "I worked so hard making that tuning coil that I'm all in. I'll need a good night's sleep to set me on my feet again. So long, fellows," and he went away whistling.
The others followed soon after, after agreeing to meet the next afternoon to mount the tuning coil.
As Bob and Joe were on their way home from school the following day they caught sight of Miss Berwick sitting on the porch of the hotel, enjoying the bright spring sunshine. She nodded to them brightly and invited them to come up on the porch. They were quick to accept the invitation, and as they dropped into seats beside her they were glad to note that there was more color in her cheeks than when they had seen her last.
"No need of asking whether you are feeling better," remarked Bob.
"One can tell that by just looking at you."