While he was cooking his breakfast he thought of Pee-wee--Pee-wee who was always so gay and enthusiastic, who worshipped Roy, and who "did not mind being jollied." He would be ashamed to face Pee-wee even if that redoubtable scout pacer were sublimely innocent of what had taken place. At about noon he saw Tom coming up the lawn. He looked a little shamefaced as Tom came in and sat down without a word. "I--I was going to go down to see you," said Roy. "I--I feel different now. I can see straight. I wish I hadn't----" "I've got a letter for you," said Tom, disinterestedly. "I was told to deliver it." "You--were you at Temple's?" "There isn't any answer," said Tom, with his usual exasperating stolidness. Roy hesitated a moment. Then, as one will take a dose of medicine quickly to have it over, he grasped the envelope, tore it open, and read: "Dear Mary--Since you butted in Tom and I have decided it would be best for Pee-wee to go with _him_ and I'll stay home. Anyway, that's what _I've_ decided. So you'll get your wish, all right, and I should worry. "ROY." He looked up into Tom's almost expressionless countenance. "Who--told--you to deliver it--Tom?" "I told myself. You said you'd call the whole thing off for two cents. But you ought not to expect me to pay the two cents----" "Didn't I put a stamp on it?" said Roy, looking at the envelope. "If you want to put a stamp on it now," said Tom, "I'll go and mail it for you--but I--I didn't feel I cared to trust you for two cents--over night." Through glistening eyes Roy looked straight at Tom, but found no response in that dogged countenance. But he knew Tom, and knew what to expect from him. "You old grouch," he shouted, running his hand through Tom's already tousled and rebellious hair. "Why don't you laugh? So you wouldn't trust me for two cents, you old Elk skinflint, wouldn't you. Well, then, the letter doesn't get mailed, that's all, for I happen to have only one stamp left and that's going to Pee-wee Harris. Come on, get your wits to work now, and we'll send him the invitation in the form of a verse, what d'you say?" He gave Tom such a push that even he couldn't help laughing as he staggered against the tent-pole. "I'm no good at writing verse," said he. "Oh, but we'll jolly the life out of that kid when we get him away," said Roy. It is a wise precept that where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise. Pee-wee Harris never dreamed of the discussion that had taken place as to his going, and he accepted the invitation with a glad heart. On the momentous morning when the trio set forth upon their journey, Mary Temple, as glad as they, stood upon the steps at Grantley Square and waved them a last good-bye. "Don't forget," she called, "we're coming up in the car in August to visit you and see the camp and that dreadful Jeb or Job or Jib or whatever you call him, who smokes a corn-cob pipe--ugh!"