Tom turned to us with a burning face.
“Isn’t Pa the big dunce!” he cried, his lips trembling with mortification. “I never knew anybody like him.” Then he stiffened, sort of proud-like, and his mouth went grim in its expression. “But if you fellows are thinking to yourselves that he’s ‘soft’ in his head, you’re dead wrong. It’s just his queer way,” he concluded. [[118]]
“Shucks!” said Scoop loyally. “We understand.”
Here Tom’s forehead clouded over.
“Ding bust it!” he cried. “We aren’t safe from Gennor by a long shot. And we won’t be until Aunt Polly and Pa are in Washington.”
We had dinner. Then Scoop and I and Tom went to the old mill to get our supply of beauty soap.
“Um …” scowled our disgruntled employer. “I thought you boys was plannin’ to come around early this mornin’?”
“We had other business,” said Scoop.
“A half day, I suppose, is better than nothin’. Think you kin sell ten boxes apiece this trip?”
“Easy,” said Scoop.