"Scouts can do anything," Pee-wee said. I guess after what had happened he wanted to let those girls know that just because a scout fell down, it didn't prove he wasn't smart.
"Hurrah for P. Harris," I said.
"Oh, is he P. Harris?" one of the girls said; "Oh, isn't that glorious! Is he the one that stirs soup?"
By that I knew they must have seen one of the handbills.
"Oh, we're all coming to-night to see him stir it," she said; "our camp is just across the lake from Ridgeboro. Don't you think Ridgeboro is a poky old place? We'll canoe over. We're camping over the holiday and we call our camp, Camp Smile Awhile. Isn't that just a peachy name?"
Connie said, "I should think a girls' camp ought to be named Camp Giggle a Lot."
"Oh, aren't you perfectly terrible!" one of them said; "the idea! Is it ten cents to get in? Have you really got a railroad car of your very own? Oh, I think that's just simply scrumptious. I wish I were a boy."
"That's nothing," Pee-wee said; "we hike hundreds of miles. Once we got lost on a mountain—we didn't care. We were lost two days. We could have been lost three if we'd wanted to."
"Only what's the use of being extravagant?" I said.
"Once I fell down a cliff forty feet high," Pee-Wee said; "that's nothing."