Mr. Jensen came up mopping his forehead. “Any lemonade left?” he asked.
“There’s about one glass,” Pee-wee said.
In accordance with his invariable daily custom, Mr. Jensen bought up the remainder of stock, drank several glasses of cider, and chatted with the partners.
“Ain’t heard of any rivals, have you?” he asked.
“We’ve got the whole detour eating out of our hands,” said Pee-wee, which was literally true.
“Makin’ money fast, huh? You takin’ good care of this little gal of mine?”
Pepsy smiled at him and he put his arm around her and kissed her and said, “If he don’t take good care of you, you just come and let me know.” Then he winked at Pee-wee.
When he was gone something reminded Pee-wee to look into the big lemonade cooler and make sure that it was empty. It was not quite empty, there being about ten lemon pits, a slice of rind, and a small piece of ice left in the bottom of it. But this was worth going after and Pee-wee went after it. With all his strength he raised the goodly cooler to a position above his head and tilted it to his mouth. His arms trembled under its weight, and his hands slipped upon its cold, beady sides. The several drops of highly diluted lemonade trickled down into his mouth but the flavory pits and rind remained at bay at the bottom of the cooler.
They would not roll but they might fall. Pee-wee held the cooler up to a perfectly perpendicular position above his upturned face. Then, oh, horrors! The wet cooler slipped through his hands and the curly head of Pee-wee Harris disappeared within it. If the postman who found him wrestling valiantly with a banana and clinging with the other hand, could only have seen him in this new and terrible predicament!
And thus the curly head and terribly frowning countenance of Scout Harris disappears out of our story into a new realm of joy....