"Naughty, naughty, mustn't touch!" he exclaimed, eyeing Grace reprovingly.
"Let him alone, girls, and come over here," broke in David Nesbit. "He only does these things to make himself the center of attraction. He wants all the attention."
"Ha," jeered Hippy exultantly. "David thinks that crushing remark will fill me with such overwhelming shame that I shall drop the cakes and retire to a distant corner. He little knows what manner of man I am. I will defend my rights until not a vestige of doubt remains as to who is who in Oakdale."
"There is not a vestige of doubt in my mind as to what will happen in about ten seconds if certain people don't mend their ways," threatened Reddy, rising from his chair, determination in his eye.
"Take the cakes, Grace," entreated Hippy, hastily shoving the plate into Grace's hand. "Nora, protect me. Don't let him get me. Please, mister, I haven't any cakes. I gave them all to a poor, miserable beggar who—"
"Here, Reddy, you may have them," broke in Grace decisively. "It is bad enough to have an unpleasant duty thrust upon one, but to be called names!"
"I never did, never," protested Hippy. "It was a mere figure of speech. Didn't you ever hear of one?"
"Not that kind, and you can't have the cakes, again," said Jessica firmly. "Give them to me, Grace."
"Jessica always helps Reddy," grumbled Hippy. "Now, if Nora would only stand up for me, we could manage this whole organization with one hand. She is such a splendid fighter—"
"I'll never speak to you again, Hippy Wingate," declared Nora, turning her back on him with a final air of dismissal.