"I'm lucky," he said to himself as he trudged down to the post
office; "I'll fix things all right. I'll show them; I don't care,
I'll show them. They won't take her back to that place, not while
I'm around."
He did not know how he was going to prevent this but he had
unbounded faith in his capacity to fix things and in his good luck.
So, as he trudged along, stepping out of the way of many cars, he
came to the home of Doctor Killem.
"Hello, soldier," piped up a little thin voice upon the porch.
"I'm not a soldier," said Pee-Wee.
"My father can arrest people," said the little gnome, looking
straight ahead of him.
"That doesn't prove I'm a soldier," said Pee-Wee.
"You've got a uniform," said the gnome. "I'm not afraid of
soldiers. My father's got a lot of money, he's got two hundred
and fifty dollars and I'm not going to get dead."
"Where's your father?" Pee-Wee asked.
"He's up the road and he's going to catch people and put them
in jail."
"Is he?"
"Why do you say 'Is he?' I didn't go to the hospital last
night. Do you want to know why?" He asked questions as if they
were riddles.
"Yes, why?" Pee-Wee asked, half interested.
"Because the bridge burned down. Do you like bridges?"
"It isn't a question of whether a person likes them or not,"
Pee-Wee said; preoccupied with his own sorrow and worry, yet
amused in spite of himself at this queer little fellow.
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