“I’ll answer fer him doin’ that,” said Uncle Eb.
“Sure I will,” said Pee-wee proudly.
“Walter, do you know what Pepsy’s secret was? You remember she said she had a secret that would make lots and lots of people come and buy things from you?”
“Girls are—” Pee-wee began. He was going to say they were crazy, but remembering the one that lay upstairs he caught himself up and said, “they’re kind of—they think they have big ideas when they haven’t. I should worry about their secrets.”
“But some of Pepsy’s ideas and plans have been very big, Walter,” his aunt said ruefully. “You see we know her better than you do. She’s very, very queer; I’m afraid no one understands her.”
“I understand her,” said Pee-wee. “She believes in bad luck days.”
Aunt Jamsiah paused a moment, considering; then she went straight to the point. “Pepsy wants to do right, dear, but she will do wrong in order to do right—sometimes. We have always been a little fearful of her for that reason. She—she can’t argue in her own mind and consider things as—as you do.”
“I know lots of dandy arguments,” Pee-wee announced.
“You know, Walter, her father was a—he was a—not a very good man. And Pepsy is—queer. Last night she made a dreadful mess in the cellar. She was at the kerosene; oh, it makes me just sick to think of it. She had some rags soaked with kerosene. Some of them were found out by the well. The others—” Aunt Jamsiah lifted her handkerchief to her eyes and wept for a moment, silently.
“What others?” Pee-wee asked.