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Updated: June 4, 2025
"Pepsy wants to do right, dear, but she will do wrong in order to do right sometimes. We have always been a little fearful of her for that reason. She she can't argue in her own mind and consider things as as you do." "I know lots of dandy arguments," Pee-wee announced. "You know, Walter, her father was a he was a not a very good man. And Pepsy is queer.
For, as he told Pepsy, "a scout has to be kind and forgiving, and besides when I go to the carnival I can plug him in the face with a baseball two or three times and then we'll be square." If many people went to the carnival they must have approached it from the other direction. It was a small carnival and probably did not attract much interest outside of Berryville. A few stragglers passed Mr.
Pepsy had a fever all that night, but toward morning she fell asleep, and Aunt Jamsiah, who had watched her through the night, tiptoed into the little room under the eaves and out again to tell Pee-wee that he had better wait, that all Pepsy needed now was rest. "Can't I just look at her?" Pee-wee asked.
To translate some little red flashes of light and read a secret in them was utterly beyond the comprehension of poor Pepsy. Here was a miracle indeed, compared with which the prophecies and spooky adventures of Licorice Stick were as nothing. And to win two hundred and fifty dollars by such a supernatural feat was staggering to her simple mind.
To her consternation he went straight up to the kitchen door, yes, of Constable Beriah Bungel's humble abode! Pepsy stood behind him in a kind of daze and heard his resounding knock as in a dream. Then suddenly to her dismay and terror she saw Beriah Bungel himself standing in the open doorway looking fiercely down at the little khaki-clad scout. "Mr.
"Visiting here, hey?" "I live in Bridgeboro, New Jersey; I'm here for the summer." Deadwood Gamely sat on the fence still looking, about him and whistling. Then, instead of bursting forth in derisive merriment as Pepsy dreaded he would do, he made an astonishing remark. "I tell you what I'll do," he said.
But Pee-wee was not to be deterred by sentiment and false hope. "Don't you want us to have two hundred and fifty dollars?" he asked scornfully. "Don't you want us to buy those tents?" This was too much for Pepsy. She grasped Pee-wee's hand, following him reluctantly, as she gave a wistful look back at their little wayside shelter.
"It means what you begin a sentence with," Pepsy sobbed. "You don't want it to be a success," he charged scornfully. "You're a mean thing to say that," she sobbed, "and I do I do I do want it to be a success and and even if it isn't we'll have lots of fun if it's just us two. Because anyway we can make believe, and that's fun." "What do you mean, make believe?" Pee-wee demanded.
"You stayin' wib Uncle Eb?" he asked. "I seed yer yes' day. I done hear yer start a sto." "A what?" Pee-wee asked, as they walked along together. "A sto you sell eats, hey?" "Oh, you mean a store," Pee-wee said. "I help you," said the lanky stranger; "me'n Pepsy, we good friends. She hab to go back to dat workhouse, de bridge it say so. Dat bridge am a sperrit." "You're crazy," Pee-wee said.
So I chose the word incomprehensibility, and I " "Is that girl pretty?" Pepsy wanted to know. "She's got a wart on her finger. It's the best one I ever saw," Pee-wee said. "She's afraid to get in a boat, that girl is." "I hate her," Pepsy said. "What for?" Pee-wee inquired. "Because she has a wart? Don't you know it's good luck to have warts?"
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