"No, I am stating plainly that you are exactly what you seem. That's why I am looking out for my share of the cakes."
"Always prompted by selfish motives," deplored Hippy. "How thankful I am that the sweet blossom of unselfishness blooms freely in my heart. It is true that I would eat all the cakes on that plate, but from a purely unselfish motive."
"Let's hear the motive," jeered Tom Gray.
"I would eat them all," replied Hippy gently, favoring the company with one of his famously wide smiles, "to save you, my beloved friends, from indigestion. It is better that I should bear your suffering."
"Thank you," retorted David Nesbit dryly, helping himself to the coveted cakes and passing the plate over Hippy's head to Mrs. Gray, "I prefer to do my own suffering."
"Oh, as you like," returned Hippy airily. "I have always been fonder of Mrs. Gray than I can say." He sidled ingratiatingly toward where Mrs. Gray sat, her cheeks pink with the excitement of having her Christmas children with her.
From the time Grace, Miriam and Anne stepped off the train into the waiting arms of their dear ones, their vacation had been a season of continued rejoicing. Mrs. Gray, who, Tom gravely declared, would celebrate her twenty-fifth birthday next April, was tireless in her efforts to make their brief stay in Oakdale a happy one. On Christmas night she had gathered them in and given them a dinner and a tree. She had also given a luncheon in honor of Anne and a large party on New Year's night. It was now the evening after New Year's and the morning train would take the boys back to college. Grace, Miriam and Anne would leave a day later for Overton. Nora and Jessica were to remain in Oakdale until the following week. It seemed only natural that they should spend their last evening together at the home of their old friend. Outside the "Eight Originals," Miriam had been the only one invited to this last intimate gathering.
"Now, Hippy, stick to the truth," commanded Mrs. Gray, shaking her finger at him, but handing him the plate at the same time. Hippy swooped down upon it with a gurgle of delight.
"It's the truth. I swear it," he declared, holding up one fat hand in which he clutched a cake.
"What made you give him the plate, Aunt Rose?" asked Tom reproachfully.