“I didn’t say I would practice it,” responded Hippy, with a wide grin. “I merely stated that it was comforting to have around. Must I repeat that I believe in words, and lots of them.”
“We all knew that years ago,” jeered David. “I believe in words, too. Sensible words from Nora explaining how you and she happened to drift in here at the eleventh hour. You haven’t a sensible word in your vocabulary.”
“I have,” protested Hippy. “Nora, as your husband, I command you, don’t give David Nesbit any information.”
Nora dimpled. “I won’t tell David,” she capitulated. “I’ll tell Miriam and Anne and Grace.” The five Originals were still grouped together in the hall. “When David’s letter came we were just wondering how we would spend Thanksgiving with not one of the old crowd at home. Hippy handed me the letter. It came while we were at luncheon. ‘Let’s go,’ we both said at once. So we locked little fingers, wished and said ‘Thumbs.’ I said ‘salt, pepper, vinegar,’ but Hippy went on indefinitely with such pleasant reminders as ‘death, famine, pestilence, murder.’ He believes in words, you know.” She shot a roguish glance at her broadly-smiling spouse. “Finally I reduced him to reason and we planned to surprise you. This morning found two lonely Originals hurrying to catch up with their pals.” Nora surveyed her friends with a loving loyalty that brought her extra embracing from Grace, Anne and Miriam.
“We mustn’t be selfish,” reminded Grace. “The folks in the living room are anxious to welcome you.”
Hippy and Nora were escorted into the living room by a fond bodyguard, and were soon exchanging affectionate greetings with the older members of the house party. J. Elfreda Briggs had not gone into the hall on the arrival of Hippy and Nora. She could never be induced to intrude upon the more intimate moments of the Originals.
Hippy, with understanding tact, at once proceeded to draw her into the charmed circle. “Well, well!” he exclaimed. “Whom do I see? J. Elfreda, and in the clutches of the law, so I am told.”
J. Elfreda’s fear of intruding vanished at this sally. Her own sense of humor caused her to claim kinship with Hippy and his pranks and she answered him in kind.
“What I don’t see is how you ever escaped those same clutches,” put in David. “Don’t you have a hard time, usually, to convince the jury that you are not the defendant?”
“Not in the least,” responded Hippy, with dignity. “The jury knows me for what I am. Just let me tell you that if I were to have you arrested for slander there wouldn’t be the slightest chance of my being mistaken for the defendant.”