“Then they’d come out good and mad,” Pee-wee said. “They’d be mad because I circumvented them. See? But as long as it stays in there they’re foiled.” “Just the same as if it were sealed with tinfoil,” I told her. “Do you all promise not to touch it?” Stella asked us. “Because I won’t be responsible for what they do, they’re all crazy,” Pee-wee said. “They’ve got to _promise_,” Marjorie said. “Do _you_ promise, Mr. Hervey Headstrong?” she asked. “Why pick on _me_?” Hervey asked her, all the while lying on his back with his hands behind his head, kind of careless like. She said, “Because you have a look in your eye. I just feel you’re going to do something _tragic_. I can just _feel_ it in my _bones_. Girls are good at reading characters. I know your type.” “Make Roy Blakeley promise,” Pee-wee said, all the while strutting around very important, sort of, “because he’s the worst of the lot.” Marjorie Eaton said, “Mr. Tall Boy with the spectacles, will you give your solemn word of honor——” “As a scout,” Pee-wee shouted. “As a scout,” Marjorie said, “will you give your solemn word of honor and cross your heart and hope to die that _none_ of these boys will _touch_ that wasps’ nest—will you?” “Why pick on me?” Brent said. “Because you have spectacles and I _feel_ that you’re honorable—I just _feel_ it,” she said. “Will you promise for all of them including Willis, or whatever that crazy boy’s name is who lies on his back, will you promise that not _a single, solitary one of you_ will touch that wasps’ nest? Because I won’t make a single jelly cone till you do.” “Make him raise up his hand in the scout salute and promise,” said Pee-wee. “Because I know that bunch; I’ve been out with them before.” Brent said, “Will you girls promise to make as many jelly rolls as we can eat in half an hour?” She said, “Why, _of course_ we will, we’ve got oceans of flour.” “Then we agree,” he said. “On behalf of the Boy Scouts of Temple Camp we pledge ourselves one and all separately and collectively——” “And unanimously,” Pee-wee shouted. “Make ’em do it unanimously.” “And conclusively and finally,” Brent said, “and thoroughly and left-handedly.” “No, not left-handedly,” Pee-wee shouted. “I had enough of that.” “We promise,” Brent said. “No scout hand shall touch that wasps’ nest. It shall remain as it is, a monument to the resourcefulness and heroism of P. Harris.” “Now will you start to cook the jelly cones?” Pee-wee wanted to know. “Because, gee whiz, I’ve heard so much about them, and anyway I’m good and hungry, so will you start making them—pretty soon?”