"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!"

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.