Across the side porch and into
the kitchen he went, pell-mell, shouting in a voice to crack the
heavens.
"It's a monolopy--I mean a monopoly! We've got a monopoly! Where's
everybody? Hey, Aunt Jamsiah, where are you? Where's Uncle Eb? Hurry
up and make some doughnuts? There's a detour! Cars--hundreds of
cars--from the highway--they're coming along the road. You ought to
see. Where's the ice-pick? Can I have some lemons? Are there any
cookies left? I left two on the plate last night. Where's the
sugar so I can--"
He paused in his frenzy of haste and enthusiasm as Aunt Jamsiah
opened the sitting room door, very quietly and seriously.
"Shh, come in here, Walter," she said.
Her manner, kind, gentle, but serious, disconcerted Pee-Wee and
chilled his enthusiasm. The very fact that he was summoned into the
sitting room seemed ominous for that holy of holies was never used;
not more than once or twice in Pee-Wee's recollection had his own
dusty shoes stood upon that sacred oval-shaped rag carpet. Never
before had he found himself within reaching distance of that plush
album that stood on its wire holder on the marble table.
This solemn apartment was the only room in the house that had a
floor covering and the fact that Pee-Wee could not hear his own
foot-falls agitated him strangely.
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