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Updated: May 4, 2025
"Good turns are the same as bad turns, only different. Do you see? I bet you can't say automatically while you're sucking a lemon stick." "Is it a a scout stunt?" Pepsy asked. Pee-wee performed this astounding feat for her edification, catching the liquid by-product with true scout agility. Whether from scout gallantry or scout appetite, he did not put Pepsy to the test.
"Can't something be a kind of a thing that could happen to somebody who's dead if he was very smart, only if he wasn't dead. We got a dollar and ten cents from them, didn't we?" "Yes, but did you did you handle them?" Pepsy asked fearfully. "There are different ways of handling people," Pee-wee said; "you can't handle people that are crazy, can you? I can handle scoutmasters even."
Don't you think you'd better take that back?" Pepsy waited, fearful, breathless. "Sure I will," said Pee-wee; "the next scarecrow I meet I'll apologize to him." Deadwood Gamely paused. His usual procedure in an affair of this kind would have been to advance quickly, ruffle his victim's hair in a goading kind of swaggerish good humor and send him sprawling.
"What is the secret, Pepsy?" Aunt Jamsiah asked gently; "maybe I can help you." "I won't tell I won't tell anybody," Pepsy sobbed. They were accustomed to these outbursts of her tense little nature and said no more. Pepsy went up to her little room under the eaves, catching each breath and trembling. No wonder they had not understood her at that big brick orphan home. No wonder she had hated it.
Then she heard the voice again, far off through the woods, up along that highway. It was just an innocent automobile, "You have to go back." Pepsy rose to her feet with a start, reeled, reached for a tree, and clutched it. "I'll stop it, I'll I'll make it it stop I'll tear it I'll pull them off," she said. "I I won't go back I won't, I won't, I won't!"
But she believed that somehow they would come when the scout waved his magic wand. "And I'll make cookies," she said, "and all the things to eat and you can print the signs " "And shout to the people going by," Pee-wee concluded enthusiastically. "You have to yell ALL HOT! THEY'RE ALL HOT! Just like that." Few could resist this, Pepsy least of all.
This is what the letter said: DEAR WALTER: Your uncle has been pestering me to write to you but Pepsy has been using the pen for her school exercise and I couldn't get hold of it till today when she went away with Wiggle, perch fishing. Licorice Stick says they're running in the brook most wonderful but you can't believe half what he says.
"I like all the scouts on account of you," she said. He told Pepsy about tracking and stalking and signaling and the miracles of cookery which his friend Roy Blakeley had performed. "Can he cook better than you?" Pepsy wanted to know, a bit dubiously. "Yes, but I can eat more than he can," Pee-wee said. And that seemed to relieve her.
"You leave that feller to me," Pee-wee said. "I can handle Roy Blakeley and all his patrol and they're a lot of jolliers they think they're so smart." "I like you better than all of them," Pepsy said. "Sometimes I'm kept after school too, you can ask Miss Bellison." "One thing sure, I like you well enough to be partners with you," Pee-wee said. "Do you want me to tell you something?
If Pepsy's red hair had been short enough it would have stood on end; as it was her fingers tingled with mingled appeal and confidence in the head of the firm. Would it stop? Oh, would it stop? The suspense was terrible. "F r resh doughnuts!" called Pee-wee in a sonorous voice. "Ice cold lemonade! It's ice cold! Get your fudge here!" Pepsy looked admiringly upon her hero.
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