“And leave it in the oven till it’s nice and hard and crisp,” Marjorie said. “Then we fill them with jam; they’re perfectly delicious. Of course, we make a lot of them and stand them up in the pan and let them crisp all at once. They really ought to be left in till they’re brown. Oh, I’m so sorry you can’t try them. Isn’t it exasperating? When you see them crisping in the pan they look like a lot of little tents—like an encampment. A friend of ours, Sophronia Simpe, invented them. We just come out here in the woods and gorge ourselves with them every Saturday.”
Warde said, “Well, I guess this will be an off Saturday. We’re sorry, but we made a promise and, as Pee-wee very truthfully remarked, the wasps are good and mad by now and if we pulled that little tin wedge out——”
“Oh, we wouldn’t have you to do it for worlds.” Stella said. “Do you think we want to be overwhelmed with wasps?”
“Oh, positively not; say not so,” I said. “Not after our brave young hero sealed them up so nicely. They must be pretty mad by now.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t take any chances with them,” Brent said.
“Safety first,” Hervey said. “Let them rage; we’re safe.”
Then, all of a sudden, Pee-wee went up in the air. “Now I know you’re all crazy,” he said. “Do you mean to tell me that tin wedge or whatever you call that thing, can’t be pulled out very quietly——”
“And break a solemn vow?” Brent asked him. “How about a scout’s honor?”
“You make me tired!” he yelled. “It shows how much you know about physics, I mean ethics, I mean about how a thing can be all right if when you first said it, it wasn’t why you didn’t know how it was going to turn out.”
“It’s as clear as shoe-blacking,” I said. “Why didn’t you explain all that before?”