Pee-Wee Harris | Page 4

highway again below the bridge.
About midway of this lonely road was Everdoze, and in a pleasant
old-fashioned white house in Everdoze lived Ebenezer Quig who once
upon a time had married Pee-Wee's Aunt Jamsiah. Pee-Wee
remembered his Aunt Jamsiah when she had come to make a visit in

Bridgeboro and, though he had never seen her since, he had always
borne her tenderly in mind because as a little (a very little) boy her
name had always reminded him of jam. The letter, as has been said,
bore the postmark of Everdoze and had been stamped by the very hand
of Simeon Drowser, the local postmaster.
This is what the letter said:
DEAR WALTER:
Your uncle has been pestering me to write to you but Pepsy has been
using the pen for her school exercise and I couldn't get hold of it till
today when she went away with Wiggle, perch fishing. Licorice Stick
says they're running in the brook most wonderful but you can't believe
half what he says. Seems as if the perch know when school closes, least
ways that's what your uncle says.
Pee-Wee reread these enchanting words. Pepsy! Wiggle! Perch fishing!
Licorice Stick! And school closing! And perch that knew about it. That
was the sort of perch for Pee-Wee. He read on:
I told your uncle I reckoned you wouldn't care to come here being you
live in such a lively place but he said this summer you would like to
come for there will be plenty for you to do because there is going to be
a spelling match in the town hall and an Uncle Tom's Cabin show in
August.
You can have plenty of milk and fresh eggs and Miss Arabella Bellison
who has the school is staying this summer and she will let you in the
schoolhouse where there is a library of more than forty books but some
of the pages are gone Pepsy says.
She says to tell you she will show you where she cut her initials but I
tell her not to put such ideas in your head and she knows how to climb
in even if the door is locked, such goings on as she and Wiggle have,
they will be the death of me.
Well, Walter, you will be welcome if you can come and spend the

summer with us. I suppose you're a great big boy by now; your mother
was always tall for her age. There are boys here who would like to be
scout boys and your uncle says you can teach them. We will do all we
can so that you have a pleasant summer if you come and tell your
mother we will be real glad to see you and will take good care of you.
I can't write more now because I am putting up preserves, one hundred
jars already. The apples will be rotting on the trees, it's a shame. You
will think we are very old-fashioned, I'm afraid.
Pee-Wee paused and smacked his lips and nearly fell backward off the
limb. One hundred jars of preserves and more coming, Apples rotting
on the trees! All that remained to complete his happiness was a bush
laden with ice cream cones growing wild. He read the concluding
sentences:
Your uncle would be glad to go and bring you in the buckboard but it
would take very long and he is busy haying so if you don't mind the
bad road it would be better for your father to send you in the
automobile. Be sure to turn off the highway to the right just above
Baxters. The road goes through the woods.
Your loving
AUNT JAMSIAH.
Steadying himself with one hand, Pee-Wee took the letter between his
teeth as if he were about to eat it. Then he cautiously let himself down
so that he hung by his knees, then clutched the limb with his hands,
hung for a moment with his legs dangling, and let go. In one sense he
was upon earth but in another sense he was walking on air. ...
CHAPTER IV
HE GOES TO CONQUER
Thus it befell that on the second day after the receipt of this letter
Pee-Wee Harris was sitting beside Charlie, the chauffeur, in the fine

sedan car belonging to Doctor Harris, advancing against poor, helpless
Everdoze.
He traveled in all the martial splendor of his full scout regalia, his
duffel bag stuffed to capacity with his aluminum cooking set and two
extra scout suits. His diminutive but compact and sturdy little form was
decorated with his scout jackknife hanging from his belt, his compass
dangling from his neck, and his belt ax dragging down his belt in back.
A suggestive little dash of the culinary phase of scouting was to be