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."