“Say, Stuffer, why didn’t you try to win?” asked Andy, as he circled up to the stout youth. “Did you eat too much for dinner?”
“Eat too much!” snorted Stuffer. “With old Crabtree watching me? Not much! When I asked for more meat he wouldn’t let me have it. And I think I got the smallest dish of dessert, too!” grumbled the youth who was fond of good living.
“Pepper, you are all right,” said Jack, slapping his chum on the back. “That was well won!”
“And do I get the pie?” asked Pepper, with a smile.
“Certainly you do!” came from several of the others, who all loved the Imp. “But you have got to wait till we go to Cedarville.”
“Sure, an’ if he’ll be satisfied wid wan piece he’ll not have to wait at all, at all!” came from Hogan, with a twinkle in his eye.
“Why, what have you got up your sleeve, Emerald?” asked Jack.
“’Tis not up me sleeve at all, but in me pocket,” answered the Irish lad, and hauled forth a piece of brown paper containing a small cut of mince pie.
“Hullo, where did you get that?” asked several of the others, in astonishment.
“Got it from the kitchen, when nobody was looking,” answered Hogan. “It was on the table—set out, I think, for Snuggers’ dinner. I didn’t want to see him after gittin’ indigestion, so I—well, I made an appropriation, as the politicians say.”