"If you had had any general principles you wouldn't have suspected me," parried Hippy.
"I won't even think about you the next time," was the withering reply. Nora rose and made her way to the other end of the veranda, perching on the porch railing beside Tom Gray.
"Come back, Nora," wailed Hippy. "You may suspect me."
"Isn't he too ridiculous for anything?" whispered Nora, smothering a giggle and trying to look severe. Her attempt failed ignominiously when Hippy, with an exaggeratedly contrite expression on his fat face, sidled up to her, salaamed profoundly, lost his balance and sprawled on all fours at her feet. A shout of merriment arose from his friends. Hippy, unabashed, scrambled to his feet and began bowing again before Nora, this time taking care not to bend too far forward.
"You are forgiven, Hippy," declared Miriam. "Nora, don't allow your old friend and playmate to dislocate his spine in his efforts to show his sorrow."
"You may stop bowing," said Nora grudgingly. "I suppose I'll have to forgive you."
Hippy promptly straightened up and perched himself on the railing beside Nora.
"I didn't say you might sit here," teased Nora.
"I know it," replied Hippy coolly. "Still, you would be deeply, bitterly disappointed if I didn't."
"Perhaps I should," admitted Nora. "I suppose you might as well stay," she added with affected carelessness.