“And what becomes of your right side?” Katherine asked.
“It comes along after your left side,” Pee-wee explained.
“And doesn’t it ever, ever catch it?”
“No, so that’s why you go round in a circle; see? Now I’ll close my eyes and try to go straight. I’ll show you.”
The demonstration of this item of scout lore was highly satisfactory and very scoutish; for scouts are supposed to smile and Pee-wee’s escort of honor did more than that, they screamed. Closing his eyes, Pee-wee strode forward verging more and more toward the curb until he stumbled and went head over heels into the gutter, where his feminine admirers gathered about him, clamoring to aid the hero.
Pee-wee was equal to the occasion. “A scout is supposed to spread mirth,” he said, rising and brushing the mud from his regalia. He had certainly spread mirth as thoroughly as the mud was spread upon his scout uniform. “I’ll tell you something else about anatomy too,” he said. “Just then when I fell down in the mud it reminded me of it. Do you know how many muscles it takes to make a smile?”
“No, do tell us,” said Cousin Prudence as she brushed him off, laughing uncontrollably.
“Thirteen,” said Pee-wee.
“No wonder you were unlucky,” said Sympathea, shaking with laughter.
“It takes sixty-four muscles to make a frown,” Pee-wee continued. “So you’re doing a lot of extra work if you frown,” he added, pulling up his torn stocking.