"Girls can do lots of things, too," Pee-wee piped up, oh, so nice and gallant; "do you mean to tell me girls aren't monkeys—too?"
"Don't, you'll start my head aching again," I told him.
"Oh, you said we were monkeys," Pug Peters said; "you're perfectly horrid."
"I mean, because on account of climbing," he said; "because they know how to climb. I mean, you know, the ones that know how to climb——"
"Baboons," Westy said.
"Sure," Pee-wee piped up; "No, not baboons, you make me sick!"
"We accept your apology," I told him.
Every time Pee-wee opens his mouth he puts his foot in it—and then blames somebody else.
Late in the afternoon we left the girls at their camp. We said we'd come over to see them next day—that was Columbus Day. But the way it happened, we didn't see them again until a long time afterwards, and that's going to be in another story. So if you like girls, you'd better be sure to get the next story. Gee whiz, I used to make fun of girls, but anyway, I like them a lot. Pee-wee says they're so kind of hospital; he means hospitable. And I'll always remember Camp Smile Awhile, you can bet. Because we had more than a good smile there; we had a good laugh. Girls are all right.
Then we hiked along the woods' path that led around the lake, back to Ridgeboro. Our car looked mighty nice and cosy, you can bet, as we came along.