“Come here girls—come ‘Mr. Peter Pan’ and see the shining beauties!” she added, as they came from the tent with hastily arranged toilets.
“Well, I’m glad you are all so tickled to death over our prospective breakfast,” she continued, while the laughter increased, “but I must say the joke—if there be one—seems rather jejune.” Little “Peter Pan” squeezed five little sympathetic fingers into the tightly closed palm of the perplexed girl, led her with gentle determination behind a clump of scrub-pines, drew her fluffy head down to her lips and whispered softly: “I heard Mr. George whisper to Uncle Jim that they were ‘squaw-fish,’ but if I can I’ll try to help you eat them.”
Bess gathered the child into a loving embrace and together they went to supper to face the jolly ridicule.
“I’m the sorriest of all,” chimed in “Peter Pan,” “’cause there’s only one thing that’s better than trout.”
“And what is that other?” questioned Bess.
“Why, it’s doughnuts with the holes fried shut.”
Some fairy must have brought some for breakfast next morning, for there they were, round, fat and golden, with only little puckers where the holes used to be. A tell-tale patch of flour on Bess’ cheek gave away the secret of the early riser.