He darted into the kitchen, bore off the tart from before Sally's envious eyes, and closed the door so that she could not be regaled even with a scent of the delicacy.
"I've jis' done gone now," said Clo, "so I'll rest a leetle afore I 'gins dinner. I'll jis' taste de tart to see ef it's good—it kinder eases my mind like."
"In course it does," said Dolf, and he cut the tart into four pieces, having an idea that the last slice would revert to him in the end.
They ate the pie and talked amicably over it, while in the end Dolf received the extra piece by earnestly pressing it on his companions, who in turn insisted upon his eating it himself.
"Mebby Sally'd like a taste," he said, virtuously.
"Sally, 'deed no!" cried Clo. "It's nuff fur her ter see such tings widout eatin' 'em—a lazy, good-fur-notin' piece."
"Den ter 'blige yer I'll dispose of it," said Dolf, and he did so in just three mouthfuls.
"If yer wants my 'pinion 'bout what's gwine on," said Clo, suddenly, as she rose to pile up the dishes she had been using preparatory to making poor Sally wash them in the kitchen; "it's jis' dis yer! Dis trouble's all missus!"
"Missus!" repeated Vic.
"Now what does yer mean?" cried Dolf.