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Pee Wee Harris

<h2> CHAPTER XI </h2> TWO IS A COMPANY—THREE IS BAD LUCK Pee-wee and Pepsy were not agreed about allowing this third person to buy into their enterprise. Pepsy was suspicious because she could not understand it. But Pee-wee, quick to forget dislikes and trifling injuries, was strong for the new partner. "He's all right," he told her, "and scouts are supposed to be kind and help people and maybe he wants to reform and we ought to help him get into business." "He's a smarty and I hate him and three is bad luck," was all that Pepsy could say. Then she broke down crying, "Miss Bellison hates him, too," she sobbed, "and—and if people sit three in a seat in a wagon one of them dies inside of a year. Now you go and spoil it all by having three." "You get three jaw breakers for a cent," Pee-wee said. "Lots of times I bought them three for a cent, and I bought peanut bars three for a cent too, and I never died inside of a year, you can ask anybody." "I don't care, I want to have it all alone with you," she sobbed. "If we count Wiggle in that will make four," Pee-wee said, "and none of us will die. If the customers die that doesn't count, does it?" Pepsy did not hear this rather ominous prediction about those who would eat the waffles and the taffy. Her hate and her tears were her only arguments, but they won the day. "He's got a Ford," Pee-wee said in scornful final plea, "and he can put up money enough for us to buy lots of sundries and pretty soon we'll have money enough to start other refreshment places and he can be the one to ride around he'll be kind of field manager. It shows how much girls know about business," he added disgustedly. "I bet you don't even know what capital means." "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. "Aren't we going to make enough to buy the tents? That shows how much you know about scouts. If scouts make up their minds to do things they do them—and they don't make believe. I'll give in to you about that feller but you have to say we're not going to just make believe and play store, because that's the way girls do. You have to say you're in earnest and cross your heart and say we'll make a lot of money—sure." Pepsy just sobbed. Her staunch little heart (when she would listen to it) told her how forlorn was the hope of "really and truly" success along that by-road through the wilderness. But the imagination which could be terrified by the rattle of that planking on the old bridge was quite equal to finding satisfaction in "playing store" and in seeing customers where there were none. Pee-wee believed that anything could be done by power of will. She would find the utmost joy in pretending. No, not the utmost joy, for the utmost joy would be to buy the tents. ... "You have to say we're not pretending like girls do" he insisted relentlessly as she buried her head in her poor little thin arm and sobbed more and more. "You have to say it. Do you cross your heart? Is it going to be a success? Are we going to make lots of money—sure? You have to say we're not just fooling like girls. Do you say it? You're not just playing?" "N—no." "Cross your heart." Her freckly hands went crossways on her heaving breast. "It's business just like—like Mr. Drowser's store. Is it?" She nodded her head. "Say If I cross my heart and don't mean what I say, I hope to drop dead the very same day. Say that?" So she sobbed out those terrible words. "And you promise not to let him come in?" she added, provisionally. He promised and then suddenly she raised her head with a kind of jerk, as if possessed by a sudden, new spirit of determination. Her eyes were streaming. She looked straight into his face. There was fire enough in her eyes to dry the tears. "If—if you wish a thing you—you get—you get it," she gulped. "Because I wished and wished to go away from that—that place—and now I made up my mind that we're going to—going to—make a lot of money for—for you—I just did." She did not say how they were going to do it. <h2> CHAPTER XII </h2> THE ADVERTISING DEPARTMENT The next morning Pee-wee strode forth and made the magnanimous sacrifice heroically. He found Deadwood Gamely in front of Simeon Drowser's village store, talking with two men who sat in an auto. The auto was so large and handsome that it looked out of place in front of Simeon Drowser's store, and the men who occupied it looked like city men. It encouraged Pee-wee ( or rather confirmed his assurance of success) to see this sumptuous car in Everdoze, for it proved that people did come to that sequestered village. He pictured these two prosperous looking business men with frankfurters in their hands, their mouths dripping with mustard. Pee-wee was nothing if not self-possessed, his scout uniform was his protection, and he strode up and spoke quite to the point to the young fellow who leaned against the car with one foot on the running board. "We decided not to take you in as a partner," he said, "because we want to have it all to ourselves and I came to tell you." Deadwood Gamely seemed rather taken aback, but whether it was because of this refusal of his offer, or because Pee-wee's loud announcement embarrassed him before the strangers it would be hard to say. Seeing that the diminutive scout no longer held the deadly stencil brush he removed Pee-wee's hat with a swaggering good humor, ruffled his hair, and said (rather disconcertedly), "All right, kiddo; so long." Pee-wee had anticipated an argument with Gamely and he was surprised at the promptness and agreeableness of his dismissal. Two things, one seen and one heard, remained in his memory as he trudged back to the farm. One was a brief case lying on the back seat of the auto on which was printed WALLACE CONSTRUCTION CO. The other was something he heard one of the men say after he had returned a little way along the road. "I didn't think you were such a fool," the man said, evidently to young Gamely. Within a few seconds more the auto was rolling away. It seemed to Pee-wee that Gamely had told the men of his proposal to join the big enterprise and that they had denounced his wisdom and judgment. But Pee-wee was not the one to be discouraged by that. "Maybe they know all about construction," he said to himself, "but that's not saying they know all about refreshment shacks. I bet they don't know any more about eats than I do." Which in all probability was the case. On the way back to the farm, Pee-wee noticed in a field the most outlandish scarecrow he had ever seen. It was sitting on a stone wall, and it must have been a brave crow that would have ventured within a mile of that ridiculous bundle of rags. The face was effectually concealed by a huge hat as is the case with most scarecrows, and all the cast-off clothing of Everdoze for centuries back seemed combined here in incongruous array. What was Pee-wee's consternation when he beheld this figure actually descend from the fence and come shambling over toward him. If the legs were not on stilts they were certainly the longest legs he had ever seen, and they must have been suspended by a kind of universal joint for they moved in every direction while bringing their burden forward. Upon this absurd being's closer approach, Pee-wee perceived it to be a negro as thin and tall as a clothes pole, and so black that the blackness of sin would seem white by comparison and the arctic night like the blazing rays of midsummer. This was Licorice Stick whose home was nowhere in particular, whose profession was everything and chiefly nothing. "I done seed yer comin'," he said with a smile a mile long which shone in the surrounding darkness like the midnight sun of Norway. His teeth were as conspicuous as tombstones, and on close inspection Pee-wee saw that his tattered regalia was held together by a system of safety pins placed at strategic points. The terrible responsibility of suspenders was borne by a single strand consisting of a key ring chain connected with a shoe lace and this ran through a harness pin which, if the worst came to the worst, would act as a sort of emergency stop. Licorice Stick was built in the shape of a right angle, his feet being almost as long as his body and they flapped down like carpet beaters when he walked. "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. "What's the use of being scared at an old rattly bridge. If you want to help us I'll tell you how you can do it. I made a lot of signs and you can tack them all up on the trees along the road for us if you want to. I'll show you just how to do it." No one was at the shack when they reached it for Pepsy was about her household duties, so she had no knowledge of this new recruit in their enterprise. Pee-wee's conscience was clear in this matter, however, for he had enlisted Licorice Stick as an employee, at the staggering salary of twenty-five cents a week; there was no thought of his being a partner. The willing assistance of his new friend would leave his own time free for more important duties, and the advertising work once done, Licorice Stick was to devote his time to catching fish for the "sto" and other incidental duties. Pee-wee now arranged his advertising masterpieces in order for posting. The imposing type on the cards impressed Licorice Stick deeply. He could not read two words but he seemed to sense the sensational announcements, and the arrow which Pee-wee had made on each card to indicate the direction of the shack was regarded by him as a sort of mystic symbol. "This is the way you have to do," Pee-wee said; "now pay attention, because it pays to advertise. There are two cards for each sign, see?" "Dey's nice black print," Licorice Stick said with reverent appreciation. "En dey's de magic sign, too." "That tells them where the place is," Pee-wee said. "Now, you keep the cards just the way I give them to you and always tack them up with the arrow pointing this way see? Here's a hammer and here's some tacks. When you come to a nice big tree or a wooden fence or an old barn, you're supposed to tack them up; and be sure to do it the way I tell you. Now, suppose you're going to tack up the first card—the one on the top of the pile. You tack it up and right close under it you tack up the next one, and it will say:" FRANKFURTERS SIZZLING HOT —> "Mmm—mm!" exclaimed Licorice Stick, as if a hot frankfurter had actually been produced by this ingenious card trick. "Then you go along a little way," said Pee-wee, "till you come to another good place, maybe a fence or something, and you tack up the next one and right underneath it you tack up the next one; always take the next one off the top of the pile, see." ICE CREAM <— COLD AND COOLING Pee-wee repeated, holding the next two cards up. This palate tickling sleight-of-hand seemed like a miracle to the smiling, astonished messenger. Pee-wee seemed a kind of magician summoning up luscious concoctions with a magic wand. The fifth and sixth cards were held together for a moment and lo, Licorice Stick listened to the mouth-watering announcement that peanut taffy was sweet and delicious. No "sperrit" of Licorice Stick's acquaintance had ever cast a spell like this. They had called in weird voices but they had never contrived a menu before his very eyes. He went forth armed with the hammer and tacks and a pile of mysterious cards, a little proud but trembling a little, too. There was something uncanny about this; he would see it through but it was a strange, dark business. He shuffled along the road, peering fearfully into the woods now and again when suddenly a terrible apparition appeared before him. He stood stark still, his eyes bulging out of his head, his hands shaking and cold with fear. ... <h2> CHAPTER XIII </h2> PEPSY'S SECRET "Sally Knapp says we ought to have some barrels to put the money in," said Pepsy as they were decorating their little wayside booth on the day of the grand opening. "I don't care what she says." She was feeling encouraged, and cheerful for indeed the little summer-house looked gay and attractive in its bunting drapery and flaunting pennants. Failure could not lurk in such festal array, the tin dishpan full of greasy doughnuts, the homemade rolls and fresh sausages (which were better than any common wayside frankfurters) would certainly lure the hungry thither. The world would seek these things out. And were not the people of the grand carnival at Berryville to pass here that very day, followed, no doubt, by gay pleasure seekers? To be sure there were no auto accessories yet, for there was no capital, but there was lemonade and candy and cider and homemade ice cream and there was Scout Harris wearing a kitchen apron ten times too big for him, tied with a wonderful, spreading bow in back, and a paper hat spotlessly white. The advertising department had not reported but no doubt the woods were calling to the wayfarers in glaring red and black, or would as soon as the wayfarers put in an appearance. Pepsy wore her Sunday gingham dress embellished with a sash of patriotic bunting. "Don't you care what the girls say," Pee-wee advised her as he sat on the counter eating a piece of peanut taffy by way of testing the stock, so that he might the more honestly recommend it. "I wouldn't let any girls jolly me, I wouldn't. Lots of girls tried to jolly me but they never got away with it." "Did that girl that was kept after school try to jolly you?" Pepsy asked. "I wouldn't let any girls jolly me," Pee-wee said, ignoring the specific question and speaking with difficulty, because of the stickiness of the taffy. "They think they're smart, girls do; I don't mean you, but most of them. I know how to handle them all right. They try to make a fool of you and then just giggle, but the last laugh is the best, that's one sure thing." "I told her she was a freshy," Pepsy said, "and that she wouldn't dare talk like that in front of you because you'd make a fool of her." "I should worry about girls," Pee-wee said. "I'm not worrying about our refreshment shack anyway," Pepsy said, "because now I know it will be lots and lots of a success. And maybe you can buy four or five tents and lots of other things. Every night in bed I keep saying: It has to succeed, It has to succeed, and I make believe the floor on the bridge says that instead. But sometimes it says I have to go back. When the wind blows this way I can hear it loud. I know a secret that I thought of all by myself; I thought about it when I was lying in bed listening. And I can make us get lots of money, I can make it, oh, lots and lots and lots of a success. So I don't care any more what people say. I told Aunt Jamsiah I knew a secret and I could make us get lots of money here and she said I should tell her and I wouldn't." "Till you tell me?" Pee-wee asked. "No, I wouldn't tell anybody." "You ought to tell me because we're partners." "I wouldn't tell anybody," she said, shaking her head emphatically so that her red braids lashed about; "not even if you gave me—as much as a dollar. ..." <h2> CHAPTER XIV </h2> SUSPENSE Soon the gorgeous chariot containing the carnival paraphernalia came lumbering along en route for Berryville. It was a vision of red and gold with wheels that looked like pinwheels in a fireworks display. The one discordant note about it was the rather startling projection of the heads and legs of animals here and there as if the wagon were returning from a hunt in South Africa. But these were only the disconnected parts of a merry-go-round. Upon the white and silver wind organ which arose out of this ghastly display sat a personage in cap and bells with face elaborately decorated in every color of the rainbow. He was distributing printed announcements to the gaping citizens of Everdoze. Not so much as a frankfurter or a glass of lemonade did the people of this motley caravan buy. It was late in the afternoon and Pee-wee and Pepsy were feeling the tedium of waiting when suddenly the sound of merry laughter burst upon, their ears and somebody said, "Oh, I think it's perfectly adorable to be on the wrong road! I just adore being lost! And I never saw anything so perfectly excruciating in my life!" "It's an auto full of girls," said Pee-wee, adjusting his paper hat upon his head; "they come from the city, I can tell; you leave them to me." "I never saw anything so adorably funny in all my life," the partners now heard. "I just have a headache from laughing." "I know that kind," said Pee-wee; "they've got the giggles. You leave them to me." Pepsy was ready enough to defer to the master mind, the more so because this approach of their first probable customers gave her a kind of stage fright. She was seized with sudden terror and the dishpan full of doughnuts shook in her hands as she placed it in full view by Pee-wee's order. The auto was evidently picking its way along the hubbly road in second gear. "We'll find a place where we can turn around somewhere," said a man's voice good humoredly. "Not till we've gorged ourselves with food," the voice of a girl caroled forth. Pee-wee gave his white paper cap a final adjustment, stood the pan of taffy enticingly in full view and waited as a pugilist waits, for the adversary's next move. "I am going to have a saucerful of ground glass, the latest breakfast food," a female voice sang merrily. At which there was a chorus of laughter. "What did she say?" Pepsy asked. "Girls are crazy," Pee-wee said. Pepsy fumbled nervously with the Several glasses of lemonade which stood temptingly ready on the counter and glanced fearfully but admiringly at the genius of this magnificent enterprise. It was the biggest moment in her poor little life and Pee-wee was a conquering hero. She placed the fudge within his reach and waited in terrible suspense to see him operate upon this giggling band of lost pilgrims. Nearer and nearer the car came and now it poked its big nickel plated nose around the bend and advanced slowly, easily, along the narrow, grass grown way. It looked singularly out of place in that wild valley. 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. 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. She would not have dared to obtrude into the negotiations which seemed at hand. She gazed wistfully at a half dozen girls in fresh, colorful, summer array as only a little red-headed orphan girl in a gingham dress can do. She gazed at the big, palatial touring car with eyes spellbound. It was thus that the Indians first gazed upon the ships of Columbus. "Hot frankfurters," shouted Pee-wee from behind his counter. "They're all hot! Here you are. Get your fresh sweet cider! Five a glass. Doughnuts six for a dime. All fresh." <h2> CHAPTER XV </h2> SIX MERRY MAIDENS "What kind of nuts did you say?" called a girl merrily, as the car stopped. "Doughnuts," said Pee-wee. "We thought maybe everybody here were nuts," laughed the man who was driving. "I'd like a nice saucerful of ground glass," laughed one of the girls. "Can you serve carbon remover with it?" "Oh, isn't he just too cute." another girl said. "Could we get a little of your delicious tire tape, we're so hungry? What are you all going to drink, girls? We'll have six glasses of carbon remover, if you please, and, let's see, we'll have six plates of ice cream hot out of the oven." "Do you think you can jolly me?" said the head of the firm. "I'll give you some carpet tacks to eat if you'd like them." "Oh, wouldn't those be too scrumptious," another girl said. "Do you serve peanut glue with them?" "I'll give you some fried fish-hooks," Pee-wee shot back with blighting sarcasm. "Yes, but what we'd like most of all is the ground glass," said another girl. "Is it chocolate or vanilla flavor?" At which they all giggled, while the man smiled broadly. "What flavor glass are you going to have, Esther?" a girl asked. "Oh, I think I'll take cathedral glass," caroled forth another; "I think it's more digestible than window glass, if it's properly cooked." At which there was another chorus of laughter. The terrible conqueror, who intended to subdue this bevy of giggling maidens and cast a blight upon their levity, stood behind his counter like a soldier making a last stand in a third line trench, while Pepsy, captivated by the mirthful assailants, laughed uncontrollably. The head of this firm saw that this was no time for dallying measures, his own partner was laughing, and even Wiggle was barking uproariously at Pee-wee as if he had shamelessly gone over to the enemy. "Oh, If, It's just—too—excruciatingly funny or anything!" one of the girls laughed. "I never in my life heard of such—Oh, look at him! Look at him! Hold me or I'll collapse!" <div class="fig"> <ANTIMG alt="p080 (99K)" src="images/p080.jpg" width-obs="100%" /> </div> Pee-wee had come around from behind the counter, tripped on his long white apron and gone sprawling on the ground, and the faithless Wiggle, taking advantage of this inglorious mishap, started pulling on the apron with all his might and main. Loyal Pepsy was only human, and tears of laughter streamed down her cheeks, and the neighboring woodland echoed to the sound of the unholy mirth in the auto. A large frying fork which Pee-wee used as a sort of magnet to attract trade was still in his hand and by means of this he caught his white paper cap as it blew away, piercing it as if it were a fresh doughnut. It was indeed the only instance of triumph for him in the tragic affair. He arose, with Wiggle still tugging at his apron, his face decorated with colorful earth, his eyes glaring defiance. The driver of the auto, who seemed to be a kindly man, put an end to this unequal and hopeless struggle of the scout by ordering a round of lemonade and purchasing fifty cents' worth of doughnuts. "When you have a few minutes to spare," he said in a companionable undertone, "stroll up the road and look about; the scenery is beautiful." "What do you mean?" Pee-wee demanded. "And be sure to take some salted spark plugs with you in case you get lost in the woods," one of the girls chirped teasingly as the auto started. And the victim distinctly heard another say, as the big car rolled away: "It's a shame to tease him; he's just too cute for anything. I could just kiss him. But it was so excruciatingly funny." <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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