They had been driving the cows home during this learned
exposition on scouting. Two things were now perfectly clear
to Pepsy's simple mind. One, that she would be loyal at any
cost, loyal to her new friend, and through him to all the
scouts. She knew them only through him. They were a race of
wonder-workers away off in the surging metropolis of Bridgeboro.
She could not aspire to be one of them, but she could be loyal,
she could "stick up" for them.

The other matter which was now settled, once and for all, was that
it was all right to throw a tomato at a person you hated provided only
that you hit the mark. Aunt Jamsiah had been all wrong in her anger at
that exploit which had stirred the village. For to throw a tomato at
the son of Lawyer Gamely was aiming very high.

The son of Lawyer Gamely had a Ford and worked in the bank at
Baxter City and was a mighty sport who wore white collars and red
ties and said that "Everdoze was asleep and didn't have brains
enough to lie down," and all such stuff.

Pee-Wee let down the bars while the patient cows waited, and Scout
Wiggle (knowing that a scout should be helpful) gave the last cow a
snip on the leg to help her along.

Here, at these rustic bars, ended Pepsy's chores for the day and in
the delightful interval before supper she and Pee-Wee lolled in the well
house by the roadside. Wiggle, with characteristic indecision, chased
the cows a few yards, returned to his companions, darted off to chase
the cows again, deserted that pastime with erratic suddenness, and