With Pee-wee refusing to explain there was just the shadow of a chance
that he might be cruelly misjudged. For after all, photographs do not
lie, and unfortunately Cousin Prudence and her friends knew little of
“stage plays.” Grove and Artie, having created the sensation they had
counted on, were quick to set Pee-wee right before the multitude.
“He was in a show,” said Artie before Pee-wee had a chance to stop them.
“You’re not supposed to tell! You’re not supposed to tell!” Pee-wee
shouted. “On account of Aunt Sophia getting shocked! You’re not supposed
to tell!”
“We should worry about Aunt Sophia,” said Artie; “if she never does
anything worse than brand a horse with a cold iron in a play--”
“She can’t, she’s got rheumatism,” Pee-wee shouted.
“Oh, was it in a play?” Miss Dorothy Docile carolled forth. “Isn’t that
just perfectly lovely!”
“I _knew_ there was something _romantic_ about him, even before I saw
him,” said Sympathea.
“Oh, just to think he’s an _actor_ like Douglas Fairbanks,” said Miss
Kindheart.
“We won’t say a word to Aunt Sophia, will we, Prudence?” Sympathea said.
“You all have to _promise_ you won’t say a _word_ to Aunt Sophia. That’s
the dark chapter in his history and we won’t breathe a _word_ of it to
_anyone_. Oh, isn’t it perfectly _angelic_ to have a dark chapter in
one’s history?”
“I’ve got darker ones than that,” said Pee-wee; “once I was out all
night being kidnapped in an automobile, only I found I wasn’t being
kidnapped after all.”
“It was so dark,” said Artie; “it was a kind of a pinkish brown.”
The meeting had now resolved itself into a “social” which was the way
that meetings in the lecture room usually ended and the three scouts
were the “lions” of the occasion. The great actor and friend of animals
was the hero of the evening and ate four plates of ice cream and a
couple of dozen cookies to show his sympathy for “dumb creatures.” His
tender heart beat joyfully (on his left side) and so overcome was he
that his eyes filled with tears when he ate a stuffed green pepper.
There seemed no danger of Aunt Sophia learning the terrible truth about
her nephew and, with her baleful influence removed, the social end of
the meeting became a real scout affair.
“The trouble with you girls is you don’t think of anything but animals,”
Artie said. “If you were real scouts you’d have seen that the tree in
that picture wasn’t a real tree and that the stable was only painted.”
“That’s deduction,” Pee-wee interrupted loudly, as he wrestled with a
mouthful of cake; “that shows you’re not real scouts, because real
scouts know everything, I don’t mean everything but they know all about
trees and things as well as animals and you can be cruel to trees and
that shows you’re a regular scout--”
“By being cruel to them?” Prudence laughed.
“There are other things in scouting besides animals,” Grove said. “Don’t
get off the track when you start to be scouts--”
“Lots of times I got off the track,” Pee-wee said.
“Sure,” said Artie, “and every scout isn’t an aviator because he goes up
in the air.”
“I’ve been up in the air a lot of times,” Pee-wee persisted.
“Sure, he’s a regular elevator,” said Artie.
The two scouts had, indeed, arrived in North Deadham at a most
propitious moment, just when the little struggling Girl Scout
organization was in danger of being turned into a humane society. The
girls were treated to a glimpse of real scouts and real scouting, the
fun, the banter, the jollying, the breeziness of the all-around scout
spirit. And thus the blighting hand of Aunt Sophia was stayed. Pee-wee
took the Black Beauty badge and prized it (there were very few things
that got past him), but the badge did not monopolize the thoughts and
activities of the North Deadham girls any more.
The three scouts remained at the village over the week-end and on Monday
morning set forth on their hike to Temple Camp.