The other matter which was now settled, once and for all, was that
it was all right to throw a tomato at a person you hated provided only
that you hit the mark. Aunt Jamsiah had been all wrong in her anger at
that exploit which had stirred the village. For to throw a tomato at
the son of Lawyer Gamely was aiming very high.
The son of Lawyer Gamely had a Ford and worked in the bank at
Baxter City and was a mighty sport who wore white collars and red
ties and said that "Everdoze was asleep and didn't have brains
enough to lie down," and all such stuff.
Pee-Wee let down the bars while the patient cows waited, and Scout
Wiggle (knowing that a scout should be helpful) gave the last cow a
snip on the leg to help her along.
Here, at these rustic bars, ended Pepsy's chores for the day and in
the delightful interval before supper she and Pee-Wee lolled in the well
house by the roadside. Wiggle, with characteristic indecision, chased
the cows a few yards, returned to his companions, darted off to chase
the cows again, deserted that pastime with erratic suddenness, and
returned again wagging his tail and looking up intently as if to ask,
"What next?" Then he lay down panting. Mr. Ellsworth, Pee-Wee's
scoutmaster, would have said that Wiggle lacked method.
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