CHAPTER XIII

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PEPSY’S SECRET

“Sally Knapp says we ought to have some barrels to put the money in,” said Pepsy as they were decorating their little wayside booth on the day of the grand opening. “I don’t care what she says.”

She was feeling encouraged and cheerful for indeed the little summer-house looked gay and attractive in its bunting drapery and flaunting pennants. Failure could not lurk in such festal array, the tin dishpan full of greasy doughnuts, the homemade rolls and fresh sausages (which were better than any common wayside frankfurters) would certainly lure the hungry thither. The world would seek these things out. And were not the people of the grand carnival at Berryville to pass here that very day, followed, no doubt, by gay pleasure seekers?

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.”

“I should worry about girls,” Pee-wee said.

“I’m not worrying about our refreshment shack anyway,” Pepsy said, “because now I know it will be lots and lots of a success. And maybe you can buy four or five tents and lots of other things. Every night in bed I keep saying:

It has to succeed,
It has to succeed,

and I make believe the floor on the bridge says that instead. But sometimes it says I have to go back. When the wind blows this way I can hear it loud. I know a secret that I thought of all by myself; I thought about it when I was lying in bed listening. And I can make us get lots of money, I can make it, oh, lots and lots and lots of a success. So I don’t care any more what people say. I told Aunt Jamsiah I knew a secret and I could make us get lots of money here and she said I should tell her and I wouldn’t.”

“Will you tell me?” Pee-wee asked.

“No, I wouldn’t tell anybody.”

“You ought to tell me because we’re partners.”

“I wouldn’t tell anybody,” she said, shaking her head emphatically so that her red braids lashed about; “not even if you gave me—as much as a dollar....”

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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