“Do you think you can jolly me?” said the head of the firm. “I’ll give you some carpet tacks to eat if you’d like them.”
“Oh, wouldn’t those be too scrumptuous,” another girl said. “Do you serve peanut glue with them?”
“I’ll give you some fried fish-hooks,” Pee-wee shot back with blighting sarcasm.
“Yes, but what we’d like most of all is the ground glass,” said another girl. “Is it chocolate or vanilla flavor?” At which they all giggled, while the man smiled broadly.
“What flavor glass are you going to have, Esther?” a girl asked.
“Oh, I think I’ll take cathedral glass,” caroled forth another; “I think it’s more digestible than window glass, if it’s properly cooked.” At which there was another chorus of laughter.
The terrible conqueror, who intended to subdue this bevy of giggling maidens and cast a blight upon their levity, stood behind his counter like a soldier making a last stand in a third line trench, while Pepsy, captivated by the mirthful assailants, laughed uncontrollably.
The head of the firm saw that this was no time for dallying measures, his own partner was laughing, and even Wiggle was barking uproariously at Pee-wee as if he had shamelessly gone over to the enemy.
“Oh, it’s just—too excruciatingly funny for anything!” one of the girls laughed. “I never in my life heard of such—Oh, look at him! Look at him! Hold me or I’ll collapse!”
Pee-wee had come around from behind the counter, tripped on his long white apron and gone sprawling on the ground, and the faithless Wiggle, taking advantage of this inglorious mishap, started pulling on the apron with all his might and main. Loyal Pepsy was only human, and tears of laughter streamed down her cheeks, and the neighboring woodland echoed to the sound of the unholy mirth in the auto.