She said, “Why, of course we will, we’ve got oceans of flour.”
“Then we agree,” he said. “On behalf of the Boy Scouts of Temple Camp we pledge ourselves one and all separately and collectively——”
“And unanimously,” Pee-wee shouted. “Make ’em do it unanimously.”
“And conclusively and finally,” Brent said, “and thoroughly and left-handedly.”
“No, not left-handedly,” Pee-wee shouted. “I had enough of that.”
“We promise,” Brent said. “No scout hand shall touch that wasps’ nest. It shall remain as it is, a monument to the resourcefulness and heroism of P. Harris.”
“Now will you start to cook the jelly cones?” Pee-wee wanted to know. “Because, gee whiz, I’ve heard so much about them, and anyway I’m good and hungry, so will you start making them—pretty soon?”
Brent said, very calm like, “I have no intention of touching yonder nest. I would not tamper with the handiwork of Scout Harris. I have but one thought now and that is to see him circumvent jelly cones as he circumvented wasps. But just for information I would like to inquire—perhaps you girls would be willing to step a little closer—I was wondering what that tin thing is that our hero used to plug up the hole.”
“Oh, it’s the thing we make the cones with!” cried Stella Wingate. “Look, Marjorie, see what he did! He put the cone maker into the wasps’ nest! How in the world are we ever going to make jelly cones now?”
“Ask P. Harris,” Hervey said; “a scout is resourceful.”