SIX MERRY MAIDENS
“What kind of nuts did you say?” called a girl merrily, as the car
stopped.
“Doughnuts,” said Pee-wee.
“We thought maybe everybody here were nuts,” laughed the man who was
driving.
“I’d like a nice saucerful of ground glass,” laughed one of the girls.
“Can you serve carbon remover with it?”
“Oh, isn’t he just too cute!” another girl said. “Could we get a little
of your _delicious_ tire tape, we’re so hungry? What are you all going
to drink, girls? We’ll have six glasses of carbon remover, if you
please, and, let’s see, we’ll have six plates of ice cream hot out of
the oven.”
“Do you think you can jolly me?” said the head of the firm. “I’ll give
you some carpet tacks to eat if you’d like them.”
“Oh, wouldn’t those be _too scrumptuous_,” another girl said. “Do you
serve peanut glue with them?”
“I’ll give you some fried fish-hooks,” Pee-wee shot back with blighting
sarcasm.
“Yes, but what we’d like most of _all_ is the ground glass,” said
another girl. “Is it chocolate or vanilla flavor?” At which they all
giggled, while the man smiled broadly.
“What flavor glass are you going to have, Esther?” a girl asked.
“Oh, I think I’ll take cathedral glass,” caroled forth another; “I think
it’s more digestible than window glass, if it’s properly cooked.” At
which there was another chorus of laughter.
The terrible conqueror, who intended to subdue this bevy of giggling
maidens and cast a blight upon their levity, stood behind his counter
like a soldier making a last stand in a third line trench, while Pepsy,
captivated by the mirthful assailants, laughed uncontrollably.
The head of the firm saw that this was no time for dallying measures,
his own partner was laughing, and even Wiggle was barking uproariously
at Pee-wee as if he had shamelessly gone over to the enemy.
“Oh, it’s just—too _excruciatingly funny_ for 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. And the victim distinctly heard another say, as the big car
rolled away: “It’s a _shame_ to tease him; he’s just too cute for
anything. I could just _kiss_ him. But it was so excruciatingly funny.”