Aunt Jamsiah took their enterprise good-naturedly;
Uncle Ebenezer said it was a good thing to keep the children out of
mischief. Miss Bellison, the young school teacher, bought ten cents'
worth of taffy each day as a matter of duty, and Beriah Bungel, the
town constable, being a natural born grafter, helped himself to
everything he wanted free of charge.
So the pleasant summer days passed and brought them little business.
Occasionally some lonely auto would crawl along the foliage-arched road,
its driver looking for a place to turn around so that he might get back
out of his mistaken way.
Most of these were too disgruntled at their mistakes and the
quality of the road to heed the voice of the tempter who shouted at
them, "Lemonade, ice cold! Get your lemonade here!" They usually
answered by asking how they could get to West Baxter. And Pee-Wee
would answer, "You have to go four miles back, get your hot doughnuts
here." Then they would start back but they never, never got their hot
doughnuts there.
If Pee-Wee's stout heart was losing hope he did not show it, but
Pepsy was frankly in despair. In her free hours she sat in their
little shelter, her thin, freckly hands busy with the worsted
masterpiece that she was working.
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