“It isn’t proper to contradict,” said Nan, who was hastily eating up the jelly during the fray.
“Give them back, Demi,” said Tommy.
“That’s a fib, you’ve got them in your own pocket,” bawled Demi, roused by the false accusation.
“Let’s take ’em away from him. It’s too bad to make Daisy cry,” suggested Nat, who found his first ball more exciting than he expected.
Daisy was already weeping, Bess like a devoted servant mingled her tears with those of her mistress, and Nan denounced the entire race of boys as “plaguey things.” Meanwhile the battle raged among the gentlemen, for, when the two defenders of innocence fell upon the foe, that hardened youth intrenched himself behind a table and pelted them with the stolen tarts, which were very effective missiles, being nearly as hard as bullets. While his ammunition held out the besieged prospered, but the moment the last patty flew over the parapet, the villain was seized, dragged howling from the room, and cast upon the hall floor in an ignominious heap. The conquerors then returned flushed with victory, and while Demi consoled poor Mrs. Smith, Nat and Nan collected the scattered tarts, replaced each raisin in its proper bed, and rearranged the dish so that it really looked almost as well as ever. But their glory had departed, for the sugar was gone, and no one cared to eat them after the insult offered to them.
Miss Smith accompanied herself with a vigor which made the old desk rattle. [Page 135.]
“I guess we had better go,” said Demi, suddenly, as Aunt Jo’s voice was heard on the stairs.
“P’r’aps we had,” and Nat hastily dropped a stray jumble that he had just picked up.