“I was thinking,” said Jimmy dreamily, “of a little word that I heard earlier in the evening. A very little word it was, but it means a lot in my young life. Only three letters. Let me see! P-i-e. Yes, that’s it. Pie. I knew I’d be able to recall it.”
“That’s a safe bet,” said Joe. “If you remembered your lessons half as well, you’d stand higher in your classes.”
Bob, recalled to his duties as host, hurried to the pantry, whence he returned bearing one of the apple pies for which Mrs. Layton was famous.
“Do you think you’d better eat anything so late at night, Jimmy?” asked Herb, with mock solicitude.
“I don’t think—I know,” returned Jimmy, with emphasis. “It may kill me, but at least I’ll die happy. But I don’t believe it will kill me. Do you remember what I did in that pie-eating contest up in the woods? Don’t forget that I’m a champion.”
Bob started to cut the pie into four equal pieces, when Jimmy intervened.
“Remember your promise, Bob,” he said. “I was to have twice as much as these crooks who robbed me of my doughnuts. Cut it into five pieces and give me two of them.”
“Your figuring is rotten, Jimmy,” declared Joe. “That would give you twice as much as either Herb or me, and so far it’s all right. But it would also give you twice as much as Bob, and that wasn’t in the bargain. He didn’t swipe one of your doughnuts.”
Jimmy looked perplexed. He was not especially strong in mathematics.
“That’s so,” he admitted. “Suppose then we cut it into six pieces. That will be two for Bob, two for me and one apiece for you crooks.”