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Updated: May 12, 2025
Gloomer telling lies. Pepsy tried to burn down the orphan home once, for some trifling grievance. We can't take the responsibility of the poor child any longer. I'm afraid that any minute Beriah Bungel will want to take her arrest her. I know she's your partner, dear, but it would be better for us to send her back to the state home where she will probably be kept than to let her be arrested.
"Yes, and when you grew up you got the peppermint sticks and doughnuts and things," Pee-wee shot back. At this Darius Dragg and Nathaniel Knapp laughed uproariously. Constable Bungel saw but one way out of his rather embarrassing situation and that was the old approved device of a box on the ears. The official slap sounded loud in the little post office and left Pee-wee's cheek and ear tingling.
This, you will know, was little Whitie Bungel, who seemed not at all disconcerted at being elsewhere than in his own home. He had been moved about so much without any exertion on his own part that he was quite at home anywhere.
"How can you get well quick when snails are slow?" Pee-wee asked. "That shows that Licorice Stick is crazy. It would be better to make it with lightning-bugs." "Lightning-bugs mean there are ghosts around," said Pepsy, "the lightning-bugs are their eyes. But anyway, just the same, nobody can fix Whitie Bungel, because the doctor from Baxter said so, and he knows because he's got an automobile."
"Hello, little orphan Annie," he said. "Bungel was telling me the wagon is coming for you pretty soon. Over the hill to the poorhouse. Ever hear that song? What's that you've got there, a soldier? Watcher doing with him? Lucky kid, I'd like to be a soldier." "What were you, a slacker?" Pee-wee shouted.
A low, melodious horn politely reminded Simeon Drowser, who stood gaping in the middle of the road, to withdraw to a safer gaping point. He retreated to the platform in front of the post office and consulted with Beriah Bungel, the village constable, about this sumptuous apparition. Only a couple of hundred feet remained now between the refreshment parlor and this party of mirthful victims.
He was going to save Pepsy from that place and make her the sharer of the fortune that was within their grasp. He made this resolve with the same generous impulse as that which had caused him to put two hundred and fifty dollars within the reach of Mr. Bungel who had boxed his ears. "I'm lucky," he said to himself as he trudged down to the post office; "I'll fix things all right.
Then spoke Beriah Bungel, sticking his thumbs into his suspenders so that his rusty-colored coat flapped open showing his imposing badge, "They wouldn' never come this way, they wouldn', when they got th' highway ter go on. They hit inter th' highway from Barter, that's what they done. Them fellers hez con-federates waitin' across th' state line with Noo York license plates.
There was one person in Everdoze, and only one, who neither followed nor witnessed this triumphal march, which had something of the nature of a pageant. This was a little lame boy, very pale, who sat in a wheel chair on the back porch of the lowly Bungel homestead. The house was up a secluded lane and did not command a view of the weeds and rocks of the main thoroughfare.
Little did that stiff, serious little figure know that the much-needed money which Mrs. Bungel had been wise enough to take from her husband, had come from the same source. Pee-wee searched in vain for any sign of hands in those enveloping blankets.
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