A large frying fork which Pee-wee used as a sort of magnet to attract trade was still in his hand and by means of this he caught his white paper cap as it blew away, piercing it as if it were a fresh doughnut. It was indeed the only instance of triumph for him in the tragic affair. He arose, with Wiggle still tugging at his apron, his face decorated with colorful earth, his eyes glaring defiance.
The driver of the auto, who seemed to be a kindly man, put an end to this unequal and hopeless struggle of the scout, by ordering a round of lemonade and purchasing fifty cents’ worth of doughnuts. “When you have a few minutes to spare,” he said in a companionable undertone, “stroll up the road and look about; the scenery is beautiful.”
“What do you mean?” Pee-wee demanded .
“And be sure to take some salted spark plugs with you in case you get lost in the woods,” one of the girls chirped teasingly as the auto started. And the victim distinctly heard another say, as the big car rolled away: “It’s a shame to tease him; he’s just too cute for anything. I could just kiss him. But it was so excruciatingly funny.”
CHAPTER XVI
A REVELATION
“What are you laughing at?” Pee-wee demanded to know, as soon as he had regained his poise and dignity. “You’re as bad as they are.”
“I couldn’t help laughing,” Pepsy said remorsefully, “’specially when you fell down. You said you were going to handle them.”
“That could happen to the smartest man,” Pee-wee said in scornful reproval; “that could happen to—to—to Julius Caesar.”
“He’s dead, you ask Miss Bellison,” said Pepsy timidly.