THE OUTSIDER
Pee-wee was not magnanimous in victory. He regarded Hope Stillmore as a
quitter and he had no use for quitters. He did not see much of her
during the balance of the season. She and her mother did not return to
the farm because there was no room there. Probably her pride would have
kept her from going back in any case.
Once, when Pee-wee hiked up to Snailsdale Manor with Ray and Fuller for
a raid upon the ice cream parlor, he saw her sitting alone on the lawn
of the Snailsdale House, and she beckoned to him to come up. Perhaps she
hoped that he would bring his companions. But the two soldiers of
misfortune, as they called themselves, did not pause and Pee-wee went up
alone.
“I’m sure it’s very kind of you to come up and speak to poor me,” she
said.
“We’re on our way to get sodas,” said Pee-wee. “I suppose you told those
two boys _terrible_ things about me.”
“I told them how you said they were lovely fellers,” said Pee-wee.
“Oh, you _didn’t_ tell them _that_!”
“Sure I did.”
“I just bet they think I’m horrid.”
“They’re great for having adventures,” Pee-wee said, “and they have no
use for quitters. Anyway they’re having too much fun to bother with
girls.”
“I think it was very _rude_ for you to just leave them that way. What
will they _ever_ think? I thought scouts were supposed to be so _very_
polite.”
“Didn’t you call me?” Pee-wee said.
“Yes, but you just ran away and left them.”
“I’ll go and tell them that you want to see them,” said Pee-wee,
starting to go.
“Don’t you do anything of the kind. But it would have been proper for
you to have _asked_ them to come up with you.”
“If you want to meet them I’ll tell them so,” Pee-wee said relentlessly;
“only I don’t think they’ll come up, because they stick up for me and
they haven’t got any use for you on account of you being a deserter. Gee
whiz, those fellers have no use for deserters, that’s one thing.
“But anyway I’m not mad at you. I bet you have to admit those fellers
can play tennis. Everybody likes them, that’s sure. Pocahontas Gamer,
she’s a camp-fire girl, down at our house, she says she likes them
because they’re reckless. They’re pals with me, those fellers are, and
do you know what we’re going to do next week? I bet you’ll say we’re
crazy. We’re going to hike to Westover, that’s down beyond the
Snailsdale branch, and we’re going into the ticket office and we’re
going to point to one of the pigeon-holes where there are tickets and
we’re going to buy three tickets out of that pigeon-hole and then we’re
going to wherever those tickets say—even if it’s to—to—to—the North
Pole—we don’t care, because we’re happy-go-lucky, see?
“And when we get out at the station, do you know what we’re going to do?
I bet you don’t know. We’re going to go to the third house and stay
there for a week. Because the way you have the most fun is not knowing
where you’re at—that’s what they said. See? That’s why you’re not having
any fun, because you know where you’re at.
“You know how it is with scouts? When they go camping they’re supposed
not to take any stuff that they don’t need, because it’s a nuisance. And
you’re not supposed to carry a lot of plans in your brains either,
because they weigh a lot and they’re only in the way. That’s what those
fellows said. And, gee whiz, you can see they’re right because if you’re
top heavy with a lot of ideas and plans and things in your head, that
means you’re more likely to tumble off cliffs and precipices and things,
aren’t you?
“That’s what they said, those fellers. And my mother said I could go
with them no matter how far it is. And we’re going to stay a week when
we get there only we don’t know where, because destinations are a
nuisance. Gee whiz, I’m never going to bother with those again. That’s
one thing I have no use for—destinations.”
Pee-wee seemed to have been completely converted to this new and novel
theory of travel. He was resolved that never again would he know where
he was going, if he could prevent it. He had even thrown away his
compass (which was of no use anyway) and he studiously averted his gaze
whenever he saw any moss near a tree.
“Do you hate destinations as much as you hate quitters?” Hope asked,
rather wistfully.
“Destinations and quitters, those are the two things we have no use
for,” he acknowledged with great alacrity. “And anyway you couldn’t meet
those fellers, because they haven’t got any time. The only way anybody
can ever meet them is to bunk into them; they’re kind of sort of like
comets. You can’t meet them on purpose. Do you know what they’re going
to do now? They’re going to count four stores from the green and then
they’re going in to ask for sodas. Even if it’s a hay and feed store or
the post office, they’re going in to ask for sodas.”
“I think it’s perfectly ridiculous,” said Hope; but all the while she
seemed very curious about that pair of adventurers who had so captivated
Pee-wee.
“Did you ever hear that time was made for slaves?” Pee-wee asked her.
“Well, places are made for slaves too, that’s what Ray and Fuller said.
They have no use for places.”
“They must be very odd,” Hope said, with ill disguised interest.
“Anyway that’s best,” Pee-wee argued like the new disciple of a cause,
“because if you hadn’t cared where you were you wouldn’t be here; you’d
be down at the farm having a lot of fun, that’s one sure thing.”
This argument seemed rather to impress Hope. It made her homesick for
the farm to talk with Pee-wee. She did not care so much now about the
gay times there. She was thinking of Pee-wee and his unfailing joy in
everything. She had planned to capture the “two perfectly lovely
fellows” and instead Pee-wee had captured them. Apparently the “two
perfectly lovely fellows” had not the least thought of her. And now she
liked them all the more for that. She liked them because they were
reckless and care free and happy-go-lucky. She began to realize that
real fun consisted in doing the kind of things that they did.
She had had her chance to be an adventurer on a caravan and she had
chosen another destination and lost out while the people down at Goodale
Farm were having the time of their lives. Perhaps she began to see that
if one cannot find fun in one place it is useless to search for it in
another; that it is better to carry your fun with you, like Fuller
Bullson and Raysor Rackette, and then it will be always handy when you
want it. Don’t bother with ready-made fun, gotten up to sell, but make
your own like Scout Harris.
Hope wished now that Pee-wee would remain a little longer and talk with
her; it seemed so natural to hear him rattle on. She felt that she would
just like to go exploring in the woods with him again. Most of all she
felt that she would like to meet those two boon companions of his. She
would like to tell them that their ideas were _just perfectly
wonderful_. But that, of course, was out of the question, since these
two never went anywhere on purpose. They could not be bothered doing
that. She wondered if she would ever meet them....
Pee-wee caught up with his two friends near the green. They were on the
point of counting four stores from the corner. It turned out to be a
grocery store and they all filed in and seated themselves on three
stools along the counter.
“We’re after soda,” said Fuller Bullson seriously.
“Soda?” said the proprietor. “Certainly.” He placed upon the counter
three enormous boxes of washing soda.
“Stung,” said Fuller. “Carry these home, Scout, the joke is on us. Let’s
try the third store beyond the second tree.”
They all filed soberly out, Pee-wee carrying the washing soda.