The girls’ Humane Committee must have been of an economical turn, for they did not use sixty-four muscles, or anything like that number. They roared and screamed, and held their sides and brushed him off and readjusted his official junk upon his diminutive person, and just kept on laughing and laughing and laughing.
CHAPTER V—HE STORMS THE INNER FORTRESS
Having risen from the gutter like so many world heroes who began as poor boys, Pee-wee proceeded to expatiate on the honorable company which had come out of that lowly and muddy abode into the dazzling halls of fame.
“That’s where Mr. Temple began who started Temple Camp,” he said. “Wait till I see if I’ve got my money all right; I’ve got seven dollars and fifty-two cents not counting my ticket because my father paid for that. I’ll treat you all to sodas.”
“Oh I just couldn’t eat a thing while I’m laughing so,” Miss Dorothy Docile explained; “thank you just as much.”
“Can’t you eat when you’re laughing?” Pee-wee asked incredulously.
“No, can scouts eat while they laugh?”
“S-u-re, they can eat while they’re sleeping even. If you dream about eats they taste just as good don’t they?”
“Can they eat while they’re going around in a circle?” Sympathea asked mischievously. “You know we’re girl scouts, but we really don’t know much about girl scouting, because we’ve only just started. Don’t you think our Black Beauty award is a splendid idea?”
“Sure, I have lots of dandy ideas,” Pee-wee said; “but anyway you’ve got a right to kill snakes—snakes and mosquitoes. But I haven’t got any right to kill a lion.”