“Cream-puff, Ruby?” invited Robin.
“No, thanks,” said Ruby, sulkily.
“Too bad!” said the commissariat department. She selected a fairly undamaged puff, and took it over to Ruby’s bed, holding it within an inch of her nose. The nose twitched longingly, but pride was stronger than hunger.
“I don’t want it, I tell you. Take it away!”
“Oh, I really couldn’t,” said Robin, lightly. “They’re ever so good, aren’t they, girls? I couldn’t bear you to go without any, when I really did risk my life and liberty to get them for you.” She laid the delicacy gently on Ruby’s pillow, disregarding a furious command to take it away, and capered back to the circle of girls, who were choking with laughter, between mouthfuls.
“All gone!” said Joyce, mournfully. “Oh, but they were lovely, Robin!”
“Robin Hurst!” said Betty, suddenly. “You never had one yourself!”
“Didn’t I?” answered Robin, innocently. “Well, that was an oversight on my part. Never mind, I really don’t much like squashed cream-puff. Next time I have the chance of—er—abstracting any, young ladies, I shall endeavour to pack them more neatly.”
“Oh, that’s a shame, Robin—when you ran all the risk. What beasts we are! And I had three!”
“I had all the fun—except what Ruby had,” laughed Robin. “It was worth it. And Ruby did enjoy herself so. Own up you’re beaten, Ruby, and eat that puff!”